Sunlight shone across the blockade. Writhing vines and trees coated the roads, and little insects buzzed about. The minor deities of the forest held reign now, and Quezhal would have to brave them.

There was no getting through this, he supposed. I guess I’ll have to forge my around, unless there was some way I could get help...

The book spoke again, in a static filled voice,” I do not have enough essence to help. I depleted it saving you. If one of your companions would sacrifice themself, it would allow me to intervene.”

Quezhal politely refused. He wondered if he’d have to find willing sacrifices every time he needed a favor. If so, he should use them sparingly. He glanced at the small cat, with its deep black and shimmering gold fur, like the metal and obsidian the temples were paved with. He could never stomach sacrificing something like that unwillingly.

Using his crutch, he hauled himself over to the edge of the road.

“That path is the path of Chtalital, the Dealmaker. If you step foot on it, you will have to bargain with him,” stated Ulikali through the book.

You think I do not know my own legends, my divinity? I have heard of him, and he will not ask for much. Pardon my crassness.

“If you step on that path I cannot speak to you anymore. The mental connection is too dangerous to maintain with other deities about, no matter how inconsequential,” Ulikali warned. “I will not be able to guide you. First, you tell me you know, but I must make sure: what of the other two deities do you know? I cannot lose such a great opportunity for a prophet so soon.” He almost sounded bitter at that last part.

Quezhal hesitated before the path. I know of the Trickster and the Observer. I will not go forward recklessly, O divine one.

“Very good.”

He placed his foot on the path, then brought his crutch and other leg with it. Now in the jungle’s territory, he noticed something strange. Albino monkeys staring at him from the trees. Servants of the Observer, Xitato. Nothing was known about Xitato, but she did not seem to harm wanderers.

Trudging through the dense flora, the pathway was almost obscured by plants at some points. But he had to stay on it, for here he was under the protection of Chtalital, and would be safe from Yuticha. The Trickster would no doubt cause great harm to him if it could.

He remembered when someone had been ambushed by the deity outside of the town walls. The nasal screams of delight from Yuticha had haunted his dreams for days, indeed that was when he was still a boy, only twelve. It had been right after he had fled to Istuka.

Quezhal made his way through the winding jungle, Chako trailing behind with the cat seated upon his head, in a traditional spot. In fact, he wore a special brimmed hat to keep the cat on. Chako however, showed no signs of strain, nor tiredness despite the long hours in the sun.

It was a rather odd group, Quezhal with his dark brown skin and hair, thin frame and limp, with Chako’s paler – presumably due to his father – and unnerving eyes, and lastly, the black and gold jungle cat, who sat atop his head.

However, another companion had joined their group. A tall man with a large build, wearing black furs, and an expressionless wooden mask. He had been walking behind them for a time, but Quezhal only noticed him when he looked behind. The man made no noise. Chtalital.

Quezhal spun around to face the man, Chako doing likewise. The cat seemed agitated by the god’s appearance.

“Dealmaker, I have traversed your paths, what do you require?” he said, the standard line given by those from the old stories.

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Chtalital stood there, imposing. A voice seemed to sound from the jungle itself.

“I require a life.” Oddly, the voice didn’t sound as deep and resonant as it was supposed to.

Quezhal halted his reply for a moment. Chtalital never asked for something like that, then again, the legends could be false, after all, the path wasn’t as clear as was said, and his mask was supposed to change occasionally.

I don’t know what I’m doing, he realized. The legends were not accurate. I should have listened to Ulikali, I’m not prepared!

“What?” he responded, panicking.

The jungle spoke again,” I require a life.”

He stood there for a moment, thinking things over. Quezhal would not let anyone sacrifice themselves except for in the name of Ulikali. There had to be an alternative. Or maybe he could trick him. If he accomplished it nothing would happen, yet the only one who had done such a feat was Yuticha himself.

A blinding pain sprouted in his head, and he heard screaming. The jungle growled; it had been trying to pierce his thoughts. Ulikali had saved him from it. But if Chtalital was trying to enter his mind, it meant he knew he was going to be tricked.

“I cannot accept that offer. Find an alternative,” he tried. Quezhal had meant to say it boldly, but it had come out meek, and questioning.

“Accept. If you do not, I will take my payment.”

Normally Chtalital was open to bargain, but perhaps the events of the village had shaken him. He stood there impassively, waiting for Quezhal to accept. If he accepted the offer, he would have to fulfill it, he would have to sacrifice someone to it. He would have to murder.

“How much time do I have?” he whispered.

“Before your death.”

The god held out his hand. Quezhal moved to shake it but stumbled due to his leg. When he looked up, he began to ponder. What if the legends were right, what if Chtalital wasn’t acting normal for a reason...

The nasally voice, the strange mannerisms, the high bargains, were all signs of a different god: Yuticha.

Realization flooded Quezhal’s features as he backed away, but by walking on to the path he had already chosen his fate. Chako stood, unwavered, and the cat screeched horrifically. Yuticha began to change, guessing rightly that he had uncovered the ruse.

Yuticha was a powerful god. Not as powerful as Ulikali, but too powerful for Quezhal to defeat.

“Ah, I suppose I can make a new deal, now that you know the truth. I want Ulikali to grant me essence, or I will kill his prophet,” Yuticha boomed. It was partly to him, partly to Ulikali, loud enough for him to sense, apparently.

“How do you know this? My mind was blocked so you couldn’t see into it,” Quezhal replied loudly, now that he knew he wasn’t in immediate danger.

Yuticha laughed. “I learned all I needed to know from the shield. I would recognize the touch of Ulikali any day.”

“How much essence do you need?” Quezhal asked.

“Not much, only half,” Yuticha said. “So do we have a deal?”

Ulikali was silent. He could not talk to Quezhal here, he could not choose for him.

He held out his hand. “This is your only choice, besides dying.”

“It isn’t,” Quezhal said. He then did something he never did, he took a risk, and lunged for the man’s hand, all the while speaking,” I accept your first offer.”

Yuticha jumped back too late, the handshake had been performed, and the deal sealed.

“Damn you!” He roared. But the deal had been sealed, and passage had been granted. He could not harm them. “I won’t forget about the sacrifice. I will come to take it.”

Ulikali finally spoke, his voice materializing in its frightening self. “You can come take it when he is on his deathbed. Then you will have his life.”

Yuticha, the Trickster, had been outwitted. He wasn’t used to making deals. It certainly wouldn’t have worked on Chtalital. However, Quezhal would never be able to return to Yuticha’s domain. He wouldn’t play games the second time around.

---

Quezhal reached the end of the path. Yuticha had left him alone after their encounter, and had been unhindered the rest of the journey, though he suspected some of the detours in the path had been done to spite him. He now walked on the main road, the jungle pressing against the sides.

Night had begun to fall, and they sat down in the middle of the road, lighting a fire. The southmen would not send scouts for a few days yet. As they settled down, Quezhal cooked some food, which Chako ate quickly, before throwing a few scraps to the cat. The two settled down, falling asleep.

They would probably be safe, but he decided to keep guard for a bit, waiting until it was too dark for other travelers – or bandits – to move easily.

As Quezhal finally lay down, ready to sleep, he turned on his side, facing the jungle edge. There, staring directly at him, was an albino monkey.