My chest tightened.
“We haven’t even asked the question yet,” Ren said, frowning. “How do you know our mission is futile?”
“Such limited thinkers.”
“What did you say about fate?” I drew in a sharp breath. “Are you saying the gods knew they would be devoured?”
“Not all fates are revealed, son of fire.”
Our destiny ribbons floated a few inches closer to each of us—so close to our faces that we had to step back.
Louie nudged my arm. “She knows who you are. That can’t be good.”
“I know who you are, too, son of Chaac,” she said. “And you, Alana, daughter of Ixtab. I see all.”
“Eep,” Louie chirped.
If she could see all, why hadn’t she detected Itzamna? And why didn’t he want her to see him?
Ren lifted her chin and said, “Then you know my mom is Pacific, the great goddess of time and fate. The one who hid you here.”
“Ah, yes. You look like your mother—in the eyes. Maybe the cheekbones, too. But you are here to ask a question, to discover what you cannot see on your own. And I am growing weary. So, let’s get on with it, shall we?”
We all nodded. I had just started to open my mouth, when K’iin said, “And before you speak, I must make you aware of the fine print. Knowledge is expensive. Your question will cost you. Nothing is free. And sacrifice is the price for all things worthy. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Ren said even before K’iin’s question mark hung in the air.
I jerked a Storm Runner chocolate bar out of my pocket, and the second I held it out, I knew I’d made a mistake.
“That will not do,” K’iin said. “Do you wish to proceed, or shall I carve you an exit?”
The four of us shared a worried glance. Everyone nodded, except Louie. He kept his head down and whispered to me, “Can I have the chocolate?”
“We want to proceed,” I said as my gut clenched.
“I will choose who asks the question,” K’iin said. “And who will pay for the answer.”
Ren snapped her hand up, careful to avoid her destiny ribbon. “It should be me. My mom is Pacific and—”
“Yes, we have established your bloodline.”
“I’m the one who saw your image in the labyrinth,” I said. “I should pay.”
Silence. A long silence. Like a something-is-broken silence.
“Hello?” Alana’s voice echoed across the chamber.
The mirrors shimmered pink, purple, green, and blue. “I’m processing. Looking across time, weighing consequences,” K’iin shot back. “Ah, yes. I have chosen.”
I held my breath.
“Renata Santiago,” K’iin said, “I choose you to ask the question.”
Ren’s expression was total shock at first, but then she managed a small triumphant smile.
“Wait!” I started to argue, when K’iin added:
“And you, Zane Obispo, will pay the price.”