Path of the Jaguar Read Online Free PDF

really had nothing against the Guerreros, or for that fact, against Joseph. It was no doubt the responsibility of the hidden money that made her feel so wary.
    "Is there any news of Delores?" she asked anxiously. Joseph shook his head. "Not yet," he replied. "But surely she'll arrive soon."
    Lennea slowed to admire the scattered pieces of artwork that decorated the lobby. A unique sculpture set in a dark hollow caught her eye. She moved to get a closer look at the magnificent, crouching jaguar carved in black onyx.
    "The jaguar." Joseph had come up behind her to gaze with admiration at the powerful sculpture with its sleek, taut lines and glittering stone eyes. "A classic example of Pre-Columbian art."
    Joseph inclined his head slightly to read the Spanish inscription below the jaguar to Lennea, "By day the Supreme Ruler governed the sky; but at night he took the form of a Jaguar and descended into the underworld."
    Lennea knew facts about the Mayas. She had learned them by rote, like a child learns the times tables. But the heart of their culture, their art and philosophy, had remained a mystery to her. "I've never quite understood the Maya concept of dualistic gods," she said aloud. "How could such a benevolent god by day suddenly turn around and become a creature of evil when darkness falls?"
    She turned toward Joseph, seeking an answer. His eyes were the color of the sculptured jaguar, clear, black onyx. "To the Mayas, the Jaguar was not evil. He was a protector. It was the Jaguar who led the spirits of the dead safely through the darkness into the underworld. The path of the Jaguar always leads from darkness —into the light." Somberly, he mused, "Eventually, mustn't we all follow the Jaguar's path?"
    She gave an uneasy laugh. "You seem to be an expert on Mayan theology. And jaguars." Perhaps it's no wonder, she thought, stealing a sidelong glance at him. His dark hair and lean, sinewy strength put her in mind of the powerful sculptured beast. Protective, even playful, and yet dangerous.
    With a little shiver, she followed Joseph through the spacious lobby, past the huge vases at the portal, and into an elegant dining room.
    The room was full, but not uncomfortably crowded. A waiter instantly appeared to lead them to their table near an empty stage.
    "At night they have entertainment—dancing and singing," Joseph explained. Lennea stared at the fancy menu, printed only in Spanish. Joseph was smiling at her. "May I recommend the taco and enchilada combination?"
    Lennea was hungry. Her last actual meal had been the dry sandwich on the flight into Mexico City. "I'll trust your judgment," she said.
    The Mayan waiter wore a white shirt of gauze-like material similar to Joseph's. "The entire room, you and I included, seems to be dressed in white," she commented.
    "Traditional. The men wear white, woven shirts and the women plain, square-cut dresses with embroidered flowers about the neck called "huipiles". His dark eyes swept approvingly over her simple, cotton outfit. "You'll find that light colors are practical for this steamy climate."
    Even with the ceiling fans whirling overhead, the air contained a damp warmth. She imagined that outside it would be stifling.
    "Sid must employ many Mayas to work at the hotel."
    "Yes, they come from nearby villages of Tahmek, Hoctun, Cantumil. Some Maya villages are quite isolated. The hotel is often their first contact with the outside world."
    "I've read so much about their history, but little about the present-day Mayas," Lennea commented. "It's hard not to think of them as a vanished race."
    "Many books would have you believe that they disappeared when the temples were abandoned. In reality, there are over 2,000,000 Indians of Maya descent still living in Latin America." Joseph added with a smile. "Did Sid tell you his mother, Neysa, is a full-blooded Maya?"
    Lennea visualized Sid's charming mother. Lennea had imagined the Mayas as a band of hostile, spear-carrying savages. Now she