Quezhal glared at the monkey, unnerved by its presence. The Observer did not get close, it was part of their fundamental nature. However, nature is a fickle thing, and established rules of survival were more often than not subject to change in most things, barring the select few. The Dealmaker was said to be one of them.

The furry beast sat there, making a guttural, curious noise. It was inspecting him. That at least was normal. The one piece of lore known to men about her was that she sent her servants to watch, to gather information. For what purpose, no one really knew, when asked, even experts shied away from theories. Theories about gods were too often accepted as truths, very dangerous truths.

Though he couldn’t tell, Quezhal probably had an increased amount of essence, due to his connection with Ulikali. Xitato could definitely sense it and had sent her servants to interact. He just hoped they wouldn’t get any closer.

The albinism was supposedly caused by the seizure of free will from creatures, but this monkey seemed like a monkey. In that it wasn’t a motionless stone-still servant that watched him raptly, like in the stories. Instead, its wide eyes seemed to have a slight intelligence behind it, though not that of a higher power. All the servants would be female, as they were innately connected to the god.

Bushes rustled behind her, and three more monkeys appeared, all staring at Quezhal. He jumped up, backing to the middle of the road. Chako was still asleep, the cat resting next to him.

“Come,” said one of the monkeys. “Leave the book behind.”

Her face contorted unnaturally to speak. Quezhal backed further away, moving to wake up Chako to flee.

“Do not. I can make an oath. To not harm you. It will be binding,” another said.

Ulikali could not advise him here. He would have to decide by himself...

“Come!”

He obeyed.

Quezhal removed the book from his satchel and placed it next to his other items. He felt reluctant to leave it, and almost turned back when he left it, as parts of his knowledge seemed to fade. However, he eventually sighed and turned around, looking towards the lead monkey.

She proffered a hand and gestured for him to follow the band of monkeys into the forest. Indeed, two had already left, launching off into the jungle, lost in the foliage. The green covered branches began to wrench apart, forming an unnaturally straight path. Though forming from nothing, the path was paved in obsidian, glistening blocks creating a road into the night itself.

The lead monkey wandered over to the path, and bounded down it, paws scraping against the gleaming floor, blocking the reflections of the stars.

Quezhal followed skeptically, then set one foot on the path. Just like before, something had changed, but this time, it was different: he lost control. His body hurtled down the path at a breathtaking pace, following in line with the monkey. For a second he heard a faint screech of rage in the distance, though he couldn’t determine the source. Everything else was masked by the sound of wind rushing past, buffeting his eyes and ringing in his ears.

Then, it stopped. He was standing at the end of the path, the other side completely out of view. Quezhal smiled. His leg had never let him run that fast, or anything close to that. His legs weren’t even sore.

The monkeys did not wait to let him savor the moment, instead walking forward.

How far did I travel? he wondered. Where did she take me?

The answer was obvious of course, the temple of the Minor Deity Xitato. Less power than that of Ulikali, she still resided in the 4th plane. One of the things the book had ingrained in his mind before it had been disconnected from him.

And there was the temple. Huge obsidian blocks rested on top of each other, forming a tall pyramid. In the foremost middle of the structure there was a large doorway inset partially into the blocks. The head jamb was made of gold, or plausibly something plated with gold due to its weight and was otherwise plain. The two vertical jambs, which were more akin to pillars, were made of a rich red wood only found in the Near-South. Carved into the wood’s maroon bark were intricate designs, with polished red wood peeking out from beneath. As he approached closer to the entrance, he realized the designs were in fact murals, murals that told a tale. A very long one at that, he mused. The doors themselves were of the same thick red wood and bore no other markings besides a gold circle in the center.

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When they arrived, the door opened by itself, the maw of the temple dawning before them.

The group passed under the doorway, and a presence seemed to overwhelm him, similar to that of Ulikali’s palace in the 3rd plane. The monkeys suddenly became more silent. Almost reverent, or perhaps fearful.

The hall was made of obsidian and those same red logs, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. Such an odd color choice, he noted. Strong red with dark black? There were more murals inside here, painted inside with a luminous gold covering. Quezhal recognized the figure on these as Xitato, the peculiar woman who waited. There were pictures of her doing many things, none of which he had heard of; Xitato was very secretive about her accomplishments, a subversive trait in the world of gods.

Eventually the monkeys stopped before another set of doors in the wall, with the same gold circle. A second later, as before, the doors swung inward, revealing the next chamber.

Quezhal hobbled forward, then entered the room. He hastily shut his eyes at the blast of light that followed. After squinting for a moment, everything was visible once more.

There was no throne. In its place was a statue, a crude figure. It was a man, standing tall and holding an open tome in one hand, and a javelin in the other. The only identifiable features were the objects and the simplified shape of his body, along with two scars running down the statue's left eye.

There were carvings on the wall, similar to the ones outside. There were also stone benches, and two square rock platforms, presumably for giving speeches and sermons.

“Welcome servant of Ulikali. I am Xitato.”

Where did that come from? This isn’t right, that statue isn’t Xitato... he thought anxiously.

A laugh sounded. “Indeed, I am not Xitato. At least not the one you are accustomed to. The old Xitato was tired of her position, so she gifted me her essence. And, if you have not noticed, I had garnered enough to ascend.”

He didn’t know how to respond. This had been a mistake, the new Xitato was on the same level as Ulikali now, so there would be no protection against the god.

“Ulikali cannot reach you here, I made sure of that. Now, I do not wish to harm you, I simply wish to inform you.”

Quezhal did not relax. Instead, he cowered down, despite the god’s insistence that he was safe. This could be it. The end. Not a very fulfilling life. At least he had survived long enough to start something important.

There had been countless invasions, the worst being the Oathsmen nine years back. He had still been a boy then and had just arrived in Istuka. They had recovered soon enough, as many people had children afterwards to make up for the loss. Or the one that happened a few days ago. He was, after all, one of only two survivors. And now, a final blow might obliterate the remains of Istuka.

“In-inform me?” he stuttered.

“In the future there is something you will need to know. I will visit you once more after this,” the god explained. “I can sense your reluctance, but I am adamant in the fact that I do not harm utyal. Good luck.”

He stood there for a minute, the monkeys disappearing into the shadows, other forms vaguely visible. He then got an odd sensation that spread through his body.

And suddenly, Quezhal’s stomach dropped. He started flying backwards, the doors – still wide open – passing past him in a blur. His feet were lifted off the ground, and he tumbled through the air, soaring, the world moving in a blur.

***

He opened his eyes. It was morning, and he lay upon his mat. Chako sat beside a small fire, cooking some food Quezhal had packed. An oddly resourceful boy he was.

Meat sizzled on skewers, as well as pieces of spiced bread. It would be ready soon, and Quezhal was already starting to feel the pangs of hunger.

But what of the events last night? They had happened, Quezhal knew because of the book’s placement, but the entire experience had been odd, none of it making any sense whatsoever.

He sighed and moved over, preparing to bring himself to his feet. As he was about to lift himself and meander towards the fire, he noticed something.

Beside him there was a parcel, long and thin, wrapped in cloth. He leaned over and opened it, revealing its contents.

It was a cane, made of sturdy red wood and had golden pieces and designs. The cane was very fine and must have been quite expensive to procure.

As he lifted it up, he noticed writing on the cloth.

For your next task, you will need to be a tad more polished. This cane will make you look respectable, and I have religious garments in the upcoming town. Tomorrow you will arrive.

-Ulikali