Orson Card - THE CRYSTAL CITY

So when they came to the next city, they weren't just a hundred white men, they had a brightly costumed troupe of reds with them, singing and chanting. Again the alcalde came out and begged them to pass on through, giving them food and water and another five hundred men to accompany them. Calvin was getting a little frustrated, so this time he crumbled part of the stone wall of the city so there'd be more to the story. The alcalde fell to his knees and offered them anything they wanted, but Austin only glared at Calvin and told him that there would be no more city walls when he ruled in Mexico City, because all the land would be at peace.

"What did you do that for when they'd already surrendered?" said Austin afterward.

"They've got to see that we come with power," said Calvin.

"Well, what you showed them was that we come to tear stuff down."

"I'll find something better to do next time," said Calvin. "Nondestructive."

"Thank you kindly," said Austin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

So it went all the way up to the high Mexican plateau and through villages and cities, and by the time they got within sight of the great volcanic mountains that ringed Mexico City, they had at least fifteen thousand reds with them, a mighty army indeed, marching ahead of them and behind them and singing and chanting and dancing at every opportunity.

It was a glorious entrance they made into the valley of Mexico. But Calvin was getting more and more uneasy. "Where are the Mexica soldiers?" he asked Austin.

"All run away, if they've got any brains," said Austin.

Jim Bowie was riding close by, and he seconded Calvin. "This is all too easy," he said. "I don't like it."

"We raised up the conquered people against the oppressor. The Mexica soldiers aren't going to waste their lives resisting the irresistible."

"There's a trap waiting for us here," said Bowie.

So while Austin beamed and waved now and then, as if he was in a parade, Calvin and Bowie and a handful of others kept their eyes open, looking for some lurking army in hiding. Calvin sent his doodlebug ranging ahead as far as he could, but all he found were civilians, and most of them were in plain sight, standing outside to watch this army pass along the wide avenue that led to the lake in the middle of the valley.

Not until they actually reached the long causeway that led to the ceremonial city in the middle of the lake did they finally see any kind of Mexica opposition. And while there was plenty of pomp and color, lots of flags and feathers, there weren't many that looked like soldiers. In fact, there weren't many of anything-maybe three hundred men in the whole group that came down the causeway to meet them.

"Do they think this is going to be a picnic?" asked Bowie.

"How many men do you think it takes to surrender to us?" said Austin. "Calvin Maker, you are worth your weight in gold. We didn't have to fire a shot, and here we are, victorious!" Austin kicked his horse and moved forward through the throng, the other white men following. Soon they were lined up near the front of the vast army, within earshot of the dignitaries coming from the city.

"We demand that you surrender!" shouted Austin. "If you surrender your lives will be spared!"

He turned to look for an interpreter, but apparently they hadn't kept up when the white men had ridden forward. No, there was one, and Austin beckoned him over. "Tell him to surrender," said Austin. "Tell him what I said."

But before the interpreter could go forward with the message, a befeathered Mexica standing on a huge litter borne by a dozen men began to speak.

"What's he saying?" asked Austin.

The interpreter listened. "He is the high priest and he thanks the people of... all these tribes ... for bringing so many fine sacrifices for the god."

Austin laughed. "Does he really believe these people came to offer sacrifice?"

"Yes," said the interpreter.

"What a fool," said Austin.

"There's a fool all right," said Bowie, "but it ain't him."

All at once, the reds who were surrounding them gave a great shout and dragged the white men off their horses. Bowie managed to get knives into a couple of them before they got him down. And Calvin was trying to work up some flames, but he couldn't get anything going before they had him down on the ground and hit him in the head with a club.

Calvin woke up in pain, and not just from his head, which was throbbing. He was also tightly trussed, and lying on a stone floor. He was also blindfolded.

He could make his bonds break apart, but he figured he ought to find out first where he was and what was going on. So with his doodlebug he worked on the threads of the blindfold and soon he had an opening he could see through. He was lying on the floor of a large dimly lighted room-a Catholic church of some kind, from the look of it, but not one that was used much. A couple of statues of saints stood against one wall, and there was an altar near the front, but everything looked shabby and dusty.

All the white men were sitting or lying on the floor, and at the doors stood heavily armed Mexica soldiers.

Calvin sent his doodlebug to see behind him, and sure enough, there were four soldiers standing over him. He was the only one of the white men with a special guard. Which meant the Mexica knew he was the powerful one. He was surprised they hadn't just killed him outright-but no, he was the prize, he was the one they'd be proudest to sacrifice.

Ain't gonna happen, he told himself.

He continued to lie still, checking the condition of the other men. It might still be possible to bring this thing off and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Then a door opened, putting a wedge of light into the room, and four women came in, carrying golden cups. They began offering drinks to the men, who took them eagerly, some of them even thanking the women. Calvin almost called out to warn them that the drink was drugged, but decided it was better to deal with it himself. One by one he went into the cups and separated the water from the drug, making it sink to the bottom of the cups and stay there, under the pure water. Except for the first few who had drunk, none of the others were getting any of the drug at all.

So when they got to him, Calvin offered no resistance. He pretended to be groggy-which wasn't hard, with his head hurting so bad. Pain shot through his head when he sat up, and he wished he'd paid more attention when Alvin tried to teach him how to heal injuries like this. But after the mess he had made of Papa Moose's foot, he wasn't about to start fiddling with his own head.

They put the cup to his lip and he drank eagerly.

No doubt they'd become complacent soon, thinking that even the great white wizard was under control.

Except, of course, only the first few men were acting drugged. The women were beginning to be confused, talking to each other, probably wondering why most of the men were still awake.

So Calvin put them to sleep, one by one, until they all lay unconscious on the floor. That was what the women wanted, and out they went. Out, too, went the Mexica soldiers, even the ones guarding Calvin.

As soon as they were gone, Calvin woke all the ones he had put to sleep. The drugged ones, though, were another matter. It was simple to separate the drug from the water in the cups, but impossible to do anything of the kind when the drug was already in somebody's blood. So they slept on while the others sat up and looked around.

"Talk softly," said Calvin. "There are still guards outside the door, and we don't want them to hear us."

"You bastard," said a man.

"Don't tell us what to do."

But they talked softly.

"Are you so stupid you blame me for this?" said Calvin. "I never claimed to be a mind reader. How should I know we were prisoners the whole way here? Did any of you guess it?"