CHAPTER 4: (Tulio's POV) Conscience

Miguel and I are living it up at the festival. There's more food and drink here than we've ever had in one sitting before, and all of it is simply divine. I start the night off rather uneasy, but slowly start to relax. Miguel's jovial company and the natives' enthusiastic music and dancing has a lot to thank for that. I join Miguel in partaking in the local drinks of Pulque and Xocoatal. Apparently, I'm in a better mood than I realize, because Miguel makes no attempt to cut me off. At some point toward the end of the night, even the horse has gotten into the alchohol, as he seems to be staggering and whickering at every move. I don't recall all of the night's events. We both fall asleep happier,
drunker, and with fuller bellies than we've ever had in our lives.

"Good morning, my lords!" Tzekel-Kan's voice breaks.

Miguel and I both jump and give a startled shout. "He's back," Miguel whispers, hugging his pillow tight.

"Oh, no," I groan. My head is throbbing, I'm not sure I can take dealing with the high priest today. I stumble out of the Litter, and quickly jump to my feet, trying to strike a confident pose. The music makes my headache worse, but I do my best to ignroe it. We're somehow on top of a large cliff, overlooking a whirlpool. We must have gotten more sloshed than I thought last night. Chel looks nervous as she walks past us, tossing flower petals about. "Chel, what's going on?" I ask.

"It's NOT gonna' be good," she answers in a horse whisper.

Uh... What? Um... "Thank you?"

"This city has been granted a great blessing," the priest proclaims. Miguel and I both cringe at Tzekel-Kan's voice. Apparently I'm not the only one with a hangover. "And what have we done to show our gratitude? A meager celebration. The gods deserve a proper tribute! The beginning of a new era, the dawning of a new age..." What's with that bag next to the priest? "Demands..." Why is it wiggel... Oh God!
"Sacrifice!" The bag opens to reveal a native man, tied up and clearly drugged. There's a gasp of concern from the crowd below us, and from the chief himself. There's all kinds of colored smoke and the native seems to be staggaring in sync with the priests's movements.

"I don't like this," I say out loud. I feel Miguel's hand on my shoulder and hear the unease in his voice as he urges me that we have to do something.

Tzekel-Kan stands behind the intended sacrifice and pushes him closer to the edge and raises his blade. "STOP!" Miguel and I exclaim. The priest stalls his hand and turns to look at us. Miguel rushes up and catches the native man, just as he faints.

"This is not a proper tribute!" I insist, approaching the priest, acting as a parent scolding a child.

"You do not want the tribute?" the priest asks confusidly.

"No, we want tribute," Miguel says, "It's just... Um... Tulio, tell him..."

My arms fall flat at my side when I hear this. Thanks a lot, Miguel! Put me on the spot, why don't you? Ok, think, Tulio. This has gotta be good, gotta be believable... Think fast! Ahha! "The stars are not in position for this tribute!"

"Like he said," Miguel pipes in, dragging the man past us, "Stars can't do it. Not today."

Well, at least he's backing me up. I give the priest a disappointed, disaproving look and shake my head at him. "Ah," Tzekel-Kan stammers,
"I supose," he bows and steps aside, "It's possible I misread the heavens." That actually worked? Damn, but that was close! I'm a conman,
not a cold-blooded murder! I couldn't forgive myself if I hadn't put a stop to this, but I didn't think he'd actually buy that!

Miguel slaps the priest on the back and gives him some spiel about, 'To error is human, to forgive divine,' or something like that. But, he's cut off by the chief. "My lords, may the people of El Dorado offer you our tribute?"

Looking toward the chief, we see a multitude of native women emerge each one carrying a plater, almost as big as they are, made of pure gold,
filled to the point of almost over flowing with golden trinkes of varying shapes and sizes. Oh my God, now THIS is a beautiful site to wake up to. "My lords, does this please you?" the cheif asks. Miguel and I give our words and praises of approval. "The gods have chosen!"
the chief proclaims. "To Xibalba?"

Miguel and I exchange looks and nods. Don't know what it means, but what the hell? Sounds good to me. "To Xibalba!" we both say. Wait? What's?
What's going on? The gold begins sailing over our heads, off the cliff, and into the whirlpool. You've gotta' be kidding me!? Do they really value it so little that they'll just toss it out like that?

I hear Miguel ask Chel what's happening, and something about "The...spirit world...?" Chel goes to speak to the chief, as Miguel and I stand by, helplessly looking on as all that glittering gold continues to sail over our heads and disappear into the swirling abyss below.

"STOP!" the chief shouts. I hear a golden platter rolling past me, and determined to save SOMETHING, I use my foot to catch it. "They wish to bask!" Miguel and I turn. Quick thinking on Chel's part. "Take the tribute to the gods' temple!"

I smile at Chel and lean past Miguel, "Nicely done," I praise her. Oh, if only we hadn't agreed that she was off-limits... Bad, Tulio! Don't think like that! Well, I guess, we can just say the portion that was thrown out was ensuring God, or the gods got his, or their proper share of the tribute?

Chel is mounted onto Altivo, as Miguel and I climb back into the Litter and are carried back to the temple. Miguel and I can't help but start singing on the way back.
"Tons of gold for you, hah!"
"Tons of gold for me, hoo!"
"Tons of gold for we, ah!"
I can't remember the last time I felt so alive, and judging by the look on my partner's face, neither can he.

"Not bad for a day's work, eh?" he asks.

"Not bad at all," I reply, "Amigo, we just became richer than the king of Spain."

"Speaking of kings, have you noticed the chief and high priest are a little tense?"

"So, we just play one against the other," I say, "Little god dance, mystic mumbo jumbo, some smoke and mirrors, then get the hell back to Spain."

"Tulio? How are we ever going to get all this gold BACK to Spain?" Miguel asks.

I hadn't thought of that. "Give me a moment. I'll think of something," I assure him.

"Don't you always?" he chortles. "By the way? 'The stars are not in position for this tribute?' Where did that come from? It was damned brilliant."

"Thank you, thank you," I try to be modest, but I tell him the truth, "I'm surprised it worked."

"Me to, but I'm glad it did. I couldn't have lived with myself if..."

I wave my hand in the air to cut him off. I knew he felt the same way I did. There was no need for him to say it. "Hey, hey! I know, old firend, I know. But don't dwell on it. Nothing happened, so let's not ruin the moment with thoughts of 'what if', ok?" Miguel nods and drops the subject. But I can tell he's thinking the same thing I am, now. Tzekel-Kan might try it again.

"Speaking of brilliant ideas, I'm starting to feel better about letting Chel in on this. If not for her, we probably wouldn't have been THIS successful," I say, changing the subject.

"She's off-limits," he says teasingly, "We shook on it, remember?"

"Of course I do, of course we did! Of course she is!" I reply. Why do I suddenly feel like my face just turned as red as Miguel's shirt?

We arrive at the temple and Chel meets us with three golden goblets and a golden pitchure of Xocatal in hand. "My lords, shall we toast your bountiful tribute?" she giggles.

"That sounds marvelous," Miguel says, taking one of the goblets from her.

"No, no," I say, "None for me thanks." The adrenaline and excitement is wearing off and my hangover's coming back.

"Oh, c'mon, Tulio," Miguel says, realizing my affliction. "Just a little hair of the dog that bit you? It's just a celebratory sip. I promise I'll make sure you don't go overboard with it."

I pause and look at him for a moment, hands on my hips. After that week in Barcelona, Miguel's always been sort of a gaurd dog for me on matters like this. If he thinks there's any danger of me drinking myself into a drunken stupor and becoming violent, and a danger to myself and others, he cuts me off before things get out of hand. As much as I hate being locked up, he's willingly put himself between me and a door, with objects flying at his head on more than one occassion, keeping me locked in a room until I was sober. But again, my mood depends on the kind of drunk I become, and he has no problem encouraging me to partake in a good time, either. I sigh. I can trust him to keep me on the straight and narrow, and I know it. "Alright, just a small sip," I agree, wrapping an arm around my partner's shoulders, "Then you and I are going to speak with Chief Tannobok."

"We are?" Miguel asks.

"Oh yeah," I nod.

"Why?" Chel asks, pouring the drinks.

"Because there's only one way we're getting all this back to Spain," I answer.