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ever.
    Maybe he had received a sign that Ah Bahlam would truly be a warrior-priest and not just a warrior. That he would help Chichén heal its relationship to the gods. Cauac cleared his throat, signaling for Ah Bahlam to listen to him. “I have dreamed of this beach covered with white-skinned people. Of men and women wearing the fins of fish swimming in the water and speaking to each other across far distances. I dreamed of stars set back the way they started, with the black dream place overhead and the snake of time eating its tail.”
    Ah Bahlam shifted beside him, but held his silence. A good student.
    Cauac swallowed. “I will continue to try to understand these dreams, and how they might link to your spirit girl with footprints from today.” He crumpled the strange paper in his hand, then opened it again, amazed at its strength. “I fear they mean you will have a great role to play.”
    Ah Bahlam swallowed. “In the ball game?”
    “You are a strong player.” He held the paper-leaf out to Ah Bahlam. “Maybe more than that.”
    Ah Bahlam waved his hand at Cauac. “Keep that leaf. It is a gift. I will do my best to use all that you have taught me.”
    He still looked shaken and excited. Perhaps at his vision, perhaps at their impending departure. Best to focus him. “Take a few hours this afternoon and return to the jungle.”
    Ah Bahlam looked about to protest.
    “Not so far. Just past town. Call your jaguar again, and ask it to help you understand the vision it sent you today.”
    Ah Bahlam nodded. “I will go prepare.”
    Cauac watched him walk away, wishing he had more time. Ah Bahlam had heart, and he had honed his body/self connection well enough to become a good warrior.
    The gods appeared to be calling on him for much more than that, and yet Cauac couldn’t read what they wanted.
    How could he know if he had done enough?

CHAPTER 7
    The sun had fallen halfway down the afternoon sky when Ah Bahlam finished getting ready. His slight frustration at being sent back into the jungle had been replaced with anticipation. Another chance. This time, he would find the right place to call the jaguar.
    Carrying only his bow and arrows and a small water skin, he walked quickly across the grounds. As he passed the walls of Zama, he broke into a ground-eating jog, breathing easily.
    He passed the village, a large cleared area where bleating goats and silent tapirs stood crowded in wooden pens outside of simple stick homes with thatched roofs. A few people waved at him, and he waved back.
    Howler monkeys leapt from tree to tree above, calling to each other about him. He slowed to a walk, silencing his steps and breath. He looked for signs of water, for a good, powerful place where he could begin his call. The howler monkeys shifted their attention, going back the way they had come.
    A low throaty growl stopped him in his tracks.
    In the shadow just ahead, a black jaguar watched him with sun-colored eyes. The barest traces of spots, black on black, covered its slick fur.
    He hadn’t even called! He slowed his breathing, forcing the racing surprise in his blood to calm.
    The cat took a step toward him.
    Ah Bahlam kept his eyes on the animal. He had only seen a black jaguar one other time, an old one that lay on a rock in the sun looking like it waited for death. This was a young adult: strong haunches, unblemished skin, bright eyes, and a short tail that flicked back and forth as it watched him.
    The cat took two more steps. It was close enough to kill him.
    He didn’t move.
    The cat crossed one paw in front of the other, turning a bit, keeping its gaze on him. It circled him slowly.
    He was being tested. He dropped slowly to a crouch, using all his inner strength to keep his muscles soft and unthreatening.
    It finished its second circle and then stopped again, standing directly in the middle of the trail, regarding him. Wise. It looked wise, and very strong.
    Ah Bahlam struggled for openness and silence, to become