Perusina, Perusino, and Franz in Narihualá

Perusino stepped on something hard.

Crack.

He stopped. Perusina looked at him. "Please tell me that wasn't a bone."

Perusino slowly lifted his foot. There was no bone beneath it. It was a small piece of fired clay, triangular, with an incised line. Franz sniffed at it, sneezed, and jumped back as if the thing had offended him.

Before them, Narihualá rose from the plain: adobe walls, ancient steps, bright edges smoothed by the wind. Not a place for running around. Rather, a place that watched you if you were too loud.

"This was a center of the Tallán people," Perusina said. "Very old. The people built with adobe, knew waterways, trade, and large plazas."

Then it suddenly became silent. Not normal silent. The wind stopped. The grasses stood motionless. Even Franz held his breath.

The pottery shard in Perusino's hand grew warm. A fine crack ran across the ground, circled once around Franz, and ended at an old adobe wall.

Then there was a knock. From inside.

Three times. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The adobe wall darkened. Sand trickled down. A figure emerged from it, as if it had been waiting inside for a long time.

It was a boy. Perhaps thirteen. Barefoot. With a short cloak of coarse fabric. Around his neck hung a small clay pendant, shaped like a bird.

"Who carries the sign?"

Perusino immediately pointed at Franz. "He does."

Franz looked indignant.

Perusina stepped forward. "We found it. We didn't mean to damage anything."

The boy looked at the shard. Then at the ancient complex. "Then the air passage is open."

Perusino swallowed. "The what?"

The boy turned around. At the edge of the pyramid, sand trickled into a narrow opening. Little at first. Then more.

"If the sand fills the air passage, the tunnel beneath will collapse," the boy said. "Then Narihualá will lose a memory."

"Who are you?" Perusina asked.

"Ayar. From the time when the walls were still new."

Ayar ran off. Not like someone visiting the place. Like someone who knew it. He jumped over low edges, avoided brittle spots, and stopped before a row of flat adobe bricks.

"Here," he said. "The waterline."

Perusina knelt down. An old channel was visible in the ground, almost covered by sand.

"A canal?"

"For rainwater," Ayar said. "When it comes heavily, it must not hit the wall. It must be guided."

Perusina understood first. "The sand is falling because the wind is driving it directly into the opening. If we uncover the old channel, we'll divert it away."

Then a piece of the adobe edge broke off above them.

Not big. But fast.

Perusina pulled Ayar back. The chunk landed in front of them and burst into dust. A deep sound came from the opening. Whoosh.

This time, something below responded. A second sound. Dull. Closer.

Ayar turned pale. "The chamber."

"Which chamber?" Perusina asked.

"The chamber of voices. Signs were pressed into clay there. Names. Paths. Water. Fields. If the ceiling falls, everything will be gone."

They worked immediately. Ayar showed them where to step. Perusina pushed sand out of the channel with a flat stone. Perusino dragged dry mats to slow the wind. Franz pulled on a string that no one had noticed.

The string was attached to a half-buried basket. The basket tipped over. Inside were small clay tablets. Each had a symbol.

A fish. A line. A circle with dots. A jagged wave.

Ayar froze. "The counting symbols. We were looking for them."

He grabbed the tablet with the jagged wave and pressed it into Perusino's hand. "Put it in the channel. Where the wind sings."

Perusino crawled to the channel. The wind blew sand into his face. Franz braced himself beside him, as if a fox could hold a pyramid. Perusina held the mat against the wind. Ayar called out, "Further left! Not there, the ground is hollow!"

Perusino placed the clay tablet into a small indentation. Immediately, the sound changed. The sand flow broke away to the side and slid into the old channel.

For a moment, it looked like they had won.

Then Franz sank in.

Only up to his chest, but enough.

"Franz!"

Perusina threw herself to the ground. Perusino grabbed Franz's front paws. Ayar knelt beside them, not digging wildly, but carefully pushing the sand away with both hands.

"Don't tear it," he said. "The adobe holds if you don't scare it."

Ayar loosened Franz's scarf with two quick motions. Perusino pulled. Perusina held the edge. Franz was free.

Behind him, a small crevice opened. Dark. Cool. Inside lay a clay tablet, larger than the others.

Ayar bowed. Then he lifted it. On the tablet were three symbols: waterline, bird, open hand.

"He who shares water protects the place," Ayar said.

The wind returned. Ayar's cloak became transparent at the edges. "Preserve the air passage," he said. "And don't dig for gold when the ground gives you stories."

Then he was gone.

Only a faint imprint of his feet remained in the sand. From the depths, a soft sound came once more. Whoosh.