Gold, Jade, and Quetzal feathers
“You ever seen people like that before, Boss?”
Chimalma, 10th scout commander for the town of Cihuatlan, spat out a wad of tobacco and looked back at the foreigners. “Nope,” he said.
“Those big canoes they got. And that ripply watery cloth? Those sure are something.”
“Sure are.”
“Well,” said Pochotl, the one who wouldn’t shut up, “where do you think they come from?”
“Does it matter?” sighed Chimalma.”Have you ever seen any people like that before? Ever heard of anything like them? Ever anywhere?”
“Never have, boss,” admitted Pochotl, and Xilotzin his nodded in agreement.
“Right,” said Chimalma. “Those guys are a fluke, a rain of gold and jade and quetzal feathers.” He showed his teeth. “A once-in-an-epoch opportunity.”
“If you say so, boss.”
They crested the hill and looked out over the dry scrub toward the fields and windbreak trees around the river and the town of Cihuatlan.
Grumbling from the foreigners climbing up the hill behind them. The dark-skinned ones in loin-cloths and capes led the pale-skinned ones in water-cloth robes, who made much slower progress. The old man with the peg-leg looked like he might not even make it up the hill before his heart gave out.
“Come on!” he called cheerfully, then said to Xilotzin. “It’ll be faster if we just kill them now, as soon as we’re out of sight of their big canoes.”
The scout wiped his brow and looked toward Cihuatlan, as if judging the distance he’d have to carry the loot. But of course it was Pochotl who voiced the complained. “Aw, boss! Why can’t we just let them carry their own damn stuff until we’re home? Then we can let the city guard kill them.”
“You’d let the guards’ obsidian drink this blood?” Xilotzin hefted his sword-club. “What’s wrong with ours?”
“And more to the point,” said Chimalma. “You want to let the guards and everyone else in town see the foreigners for themselves. Word might get back to the Tlatoani’s court, and then we really might have to trek all the way to Tenochtitlan.”
“Tenochtitlan?” Called up one of the foreigners.
“Yes yes,” Chimalma smiled and added the word that seemed to so interest these people. “Mekka!” Maybe it meant ‘treasure.’
“What if they send more men from the big canoes?” said Xilotzin as they descended onto the other side of the hill.
“I don’t plan to be here anymore,” said Chimalma.
“What if they follow us back home to Cihuatlan?”
“Then,” Chimalma hefted his own sword-club, “all of our obsidian will drink deeply.”
