Part 23 (1/2)

The Healer's hold over the crowd snapped, and they began to hiss.

Still he was not chagrined. ”I see indio blood in your veins,” the old sage said, shaking his head sadly, ”but you favor your Spanish ancestry.”

”I favor knowledge over ignorance,” I said.

”The question is,” the old man said smiling, ”how much knowledge can a boy bear?”

Chanting quietly in Nahuatl, his hands pa.s.sed over my eyes. Swaying, my face flushed fevishly, and my eyes teared. Breath whooshed out of me, and all my skepticism died.

I was especially taken by his eyes. Black, bottomless wells filled with world weariness and tacit understanding, they gripped me like a vise. Helpless in their gaze, they wrung everything from me, knew everything about me, my people, my past, my blood-before the conquistadors, before the Aztecs, before the Mayans, time immemorial, time out of mind.

Reaching for my crotch-as if he was about to grab my garrancha-he drew a long, black snake out of my pants, writhing and hissing and spitting. The crowd erupted into laughter.

TWENTY-SIX.

After the crowd dispersed, I sat with him. Still dizzy from his magic spell, I now felt humbled. Handing me a piece of locust cake, a bit of maize, and a gourd of mango juice, he said gently, ”Never forswear your indio blood,” he told me. ”The Spanish think they subjugate our flesh with whips and swords, with guns and priests, but there is another, separate world beneath our feet, above our heads, and dwelling in our souls. In this blessed realm, the sword slays not, and the spirit holds sway. Before the Spaniards, before the indio trod the earth, before the earth itself was blasted and forged out of the void, these sacred shades wrapped us round, nourished our souls, and gave us form. Forever they cry to us, 'Respect! Respect!' Forsake your blood, grovel before the Spaniard's inane G.o.ds, spurn the specters of our hallowed pale, you do so at your peril. Their memories are long.”

He gave me a black stone-two fingers wide, one long and iron hard. One side glistened, a gleaming ebony mirror. Its interior glinted eerily, and I could feel myself falling into its lightless depths, as if its center were not mere rock but the pit itself-an infinite abyss, eternal as time, its heart the heart of an ancient star.

”Our indio ancestors traversed the stars,” he said, ”were the stars and carried in their hearts star-stones that foreordained our fate-all fate. Look into the smoking mirror, boy.”

I was no longer of this earth but staring into a world before light and time. My hand trembled at its touch.

”It is yours,” he said.

He had given me a piece of a star.

I dropped to my knees... overwhelmed.

”It is your tonal, your destiny, to have it.”

”I am not worthy.”

”Really? You have not asked what you must give in exchange.”

”All I have are two reales.”

His palm pa.s.sed over mine without touching it, and the money vanished as if it had never been.

”The gift is immaterial. In the heart the blessing dwells, and your heart harbors the G.o.ds.”

TWENTY-SEVEN.

I found Fray Antonio under the tree where we had set up camp. I told him of my experience with the Healer, including the snake concealed in my loins. He was singularly unimpressed.

”Describe to me what happened-every detail.”