Harbinger of the Storm (35 page)

Pezotic. “And you don’t know why,” I said, carefully. If that wasn’t what she wanted to tell me… “But you know what happened to him.”

”I know where he went. Pezotic,” Xahuia said, with a quick, fierce shake of her head. “For all I know, it isn’t where he is now. But still–”

“Go on.”

”I had him followed because he was a coward, and a weakling. A man who could be bought.” Her lips curled up, halfway between a sneer and a smile. “He bought passage on a boat headed east.”

”East?” I asked. “Into Texcoco?” It would have been convenient, but I was reasonably sure luck was not with us. From the start, it had never been.

”No,” Xahuia said. “To Teotihuacan.”

Of course. Teotihuacan, the Birthplace of the Gods, a sacred place where the gods had made the sacrifice that had led to the birth of the Fifth Sun, a place of pilgrimage and of worship, a place of safety, the bastion of Their strength.

”He might have moved,” I said.

”He might,” Xahuia agreed. “But it’s all I can give you, Acatltzin. Take it and use however you wish.”

”Thank you,” I said. I rose and bowed to her, in the same fashion as if she still had been imperial consort. Her gaze rested, for a moment, on me; that of a weak, broken woman, grounded by her brother’s magic and utterly at his mercy. “I’m sorry,” I said.

”Don’t be.” She did that peculiar half-smile, with no hint of joy in it. “It’s a game, Acatl-tzin. That’s what you never understood. You have to be ready to gamble it all in order to win. And sometimes, you lose.”

”I can’t play that kind of game,” I said.

”I know. But you’ll find that all Revered Speakers can.”

Xahuia’s words still echoed in my mind as I walked back to Nezahual-tzin, who stood waiting next to a scowling Teomitl with a half-amused smile on his face.

”So, did you find out anything?”

”What you expected me to find. It’s all a game to you, isn’t it?” I asked.

He watched me, as dispassionately as one might watch a mouse or an ant. “Perhaps. Perhaps nothing is real, after all… just the gods, putting us on the board with the other
patolli
pieces.”

“You’re the one putting us on the board,” I said.

“Why so much anger?”

”Because we’ve wasted time,” I said. “Because we’re here in Texcoco, indulging your taste for mysteries while Tizoc-tzin is getting elected.”

Nezahual-tzin’s shoulders moved in a gesture I couldn’t read. “There was nothing you could have done about it, Acatl.”

I knew. And the Southern Hummingbird strike me, it hurt, as much as obsidian shards, as much as salt in wounds. He’d disgraced me, sent Teomitl fleeing away from his own city, insulted my sister, who, unlike us all, had no means of defending herself. I hoped she was safe, that Tizoc-tzin hadn’t thought to follow her out of the city. “Still,” I said, as we walked away from the basin, “still, there was another way.”

”Not that I could see.” Nezahual-tzin’s face was serene.

”And now what?” Teomitl asked.

Nezahual-tzin stopped, looked at us, pondering for a while. His eyes rolled up again, becoming the uncanny white of pearls, of milk and the looming Moon in the Heavens. “It depends.”

”On how much we’re worth to you?” I asked.

He smiled. “You’re learning.”

”Not what I wish to learn.”

”All knowledge is good.” He smiled again.

”You want to sell us?” Teomitl’s hand strayed to his
macuahitl
sword. “You’d dare to–”

”Teomitl,” I said, warningly. The palace wasn’t ours and it was full of warriors, not to mention whatever sorcerers Nezahual-tzin might have in his service. “He’d sell his own sister.” He already had, unless I was grievously mistaken.

”Of course,” Nezahual-tzin said. “But she’d understand.”

”You lie.” Teomitl’s face was all harsh angles, his skin slowly whitening to the pallor of jade.

The worst was, I didn’t think he was lying. He and Xahuia – and Tizoc-tzin, and Quenami, and even the She-Snake – seemed to operate by a different set of standards, as alien to

me as the ways of the southern tribes.

”Of course not,” Nezahual-tzin said. “You’re a fool, pup. I’m ruler of Texcoco. I do what is best for my city, and that includes not going to war against Tenochtitlan. Making, how would you call them, peace offerings to the new Revered Speaker?” His teeth, when he smiled, were the same uncanny white as his eyes.

”Why help me escape then?” I asked, and then realised that he had been caught in the same accusation as I. “Of course. You weren’t welcome in Tenochtitlan either, after my arrest.”

”No,” Nezahual-tzin said. “But it will change, when I come back.”

”As long as Tizoc-tzin doesn’t find out you helped me.”

Nezahual-tzin smiled, in that smug way I was coming to hate. “I’ll explain to him it was the only way to get his brother to reveal his true allegiances. And he’ll have both of you back; and that will matter more to him than alienating a valuable ally. The forms will have been respected. I will have made my amends for dealing in magic on his territory.”

”We’re not bundles to be passed on!” Teomitl snapped.

I noticed, from the corner of my eye, the warriors getting closer, circling us like vultures hoping for an easy kill. Teomitl’s skin shone with sweat, and with something else – the otherworldly light of Chalchiuhtlicue, Jade Skirt.

”Everyone is a tool, at one point or another. Better get used to it, pup, or your life will be brief.” Nezahual-tzin watched the warriors converging on us with the distracted interest of a man pondering the words of a poem. “Briefer than it could have been, at any rate.”

Above us were the stars, an oppressive reminder of the stakes if I ever needed one. “You’re intelligent enough to know what is upon us,” I said.

”Of course I am. As you said, Tizoc-tzin will claim the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown. The Southern Hummingbird’s power will once more flow into the Fifth World, and that will be the end of this incident. Meanwhile, I’ll have worked my way back into favour at the Mexica Court.”

”With our deaths.” Teomitl’s face was frozen, halfway to divine light. Sweat dripped on his cheeks.

Nezahual-tzin laughed. “Don’t bother. The ground you’re on is blessed by the Storm Lord, and your goddess won’t have any hold here.”

He might have been right – and it was my duty to see the Fifth World preserved, beyond any selfish grievances I might have. No, the Storm Lord’s lightning strike me, I couldn’t do this. “You do know how I escaped.”

”With our help.” Nezahual-tzin shook his head, contemptuously.

I snorted. “You do have tremendous faith in your abilities.”

”I serve a god.”

”So does the She-Snake,” I said.

”The She-Snake? I don’t see what he has to do with anything.”

”The She-Snake said…” I swallowed, remembering darkness all around us, the rustle of something large and malevolent which hated all life, all movement, all sound, and wouldn’t rest until everything was silent and dark. “He said that Tizoctzin wouldn’t be able to channel the Southern Hummingbird’s favour into the Fifth World.” He’d said, too, that Quenami might have a trick, a way of bending the rules to his advantage. But Quenami had miscalculated before.

”You’re lying.”

I met his gaze head on, staring into the numinous white of his eyes. “I’ll swear it by my face and by my heart, or by any god you name.”

Nezahual-tzin didn’t move for a while, his eyes still on me. There was a chasm, deep inside them, colours, swirling amidst the white like oil on water, a spiral that opened and drew me in…

I came to with a start, the air burning in my lungs. Nezahual-tzin was standing next to me, one hand on his
macuahitl
sword, another holding up my chin. His touch was as cool as shadowed stone; and I could barely hear his breath. Teomitl had shifted, caught by surprise; but he’d been too late, his sword barely drawn.

”All right. I believe you.” Nezahual-tzin released my face, and took a step away from me. I fought the urge to reach for the knives at my belt. It would only show weakness.

The warriors remained where they were, while Nezahual looked up into the sky, his eyes on the largest star, the Evening Star, which belonged to the Feathered Serpent, the only one which would not fall upon us, when the time came.

”From here to Teotihuacan, it’s a two-day trip.” The Birthplace of the Gods was on the same side of the lake as Texcoco, but much further to the north, on the banks of a large river that descended from the nearby mountains.

”By land.” Teomitl’s voice was defiant.

”You almost collapsed on the way here.”

”You’re accusing me of weakness?”

It might have been comical in another context. “Look,” I said, fighting to control the mad beating of my heart. “This isn’t the best time to quarrel.”

”I’d like matters to be clear,” Teomitl said. He looked straight at Nezahual-tzin, who equably returned his gaze.

”You’re right, let things be clear. I think you’re a naive, impulsive fool who keeps overstretching himself. You no doubt think me arrogant, manipulative, and heartless.”

That, if nothing else, shocked Teomitl into momentary silence. “It changes nothing to the original offer.”

”The
ahuizotls
? I’ll apologise for not wanting to be in the middle of the lake when you falter.”

I finally managed to intervene. “Then we’ll make regular stops. Nezahual-tzin, this isn’t time for tarrying.”

”A day,” Teomitl said, defiantly. “A day and a half, at most.”

At length, Nezahual-tzin nodded. “You’re right. The lake it is, then. I’ll have boats prepared. Come.”

Teomitl and I exchanged a glance as we walked between the warriors. His gaze was still the murky colour of the lake’s waters, in which flickered the distant radiance of the goddess. “Acatl-tzin…”

”I know,” I said, curtly. Nezahual-tzin might be on our side for the moment, lending us his resources. But all of that wouldn’t prevent him from selling us, once he was sure the Fifth World was safe.

We needed an escape plan, and we needed it fast.

NINETEEN

The Fifth Sun’s Birthplace

The journey to Teotihuacan was tense, but mostly eventless. When we stopped for our first and only night, Teomitl, palefaced, glared at Nezahual-tzin, who glanced aside elegantly as if whatever Teomitl thought of him didn’t matter. Of course, it only made Teomitl glare all the more fiercely.

Meanwhile, I kept my hands on my obsidian knives, wondering how to escape Nezahual-tzin’s vigilance. A distraction would serve us well, but the only distraction I could think of was summoning a creature from the underworld, and with the balance of the universe already skewed, there was no telling what that would do. Most of the other spells I knew were either for tracking or for examining a dead body, neither of which would be any use in the current situation.

I managed to catch Teomitl while Nezahual-tzin was preparing for his evening meditations. “How are you?”

He shrugged, in what was meant to be an expansive way but soon turned pained.

”You overreached again,” I said.

”I’ve been better,” Teomitl admitted reluctantly. He crouched on his haunches in the dry earth by the riverside, watching the water flow across his outstretched hands. “Not that I’m going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that.”

“He probably already knows.”

”I’ll take my chances. What are we going to do next, Acatl-tzin?” He looked up at me, a student waiting for his master’s instructions.

”We might need the
ahuizotls
,” I said, slowly. The beasts frightened and repulsed me, and I’d have taken any other solution, but it looked like we had little choice left.

Teomitl grimaced. “So far from the lake… I don’t know, Acatl-tzin. They’re not river creatures.”

”I know.” They feasted on the drowned within the lake, lived within murky waters, not the clear clean ones of the mountain streams. “But I can’t summon anything from the underworld, not at this juncture in time.”

”Hmm.” Teomitl looked at the river water for a while, as if he could discern starlight within its depths. “We’ll have to see, then. Hold ourselves ready.”

I glanced at Nezahual-tzin, who sat cross-legged near our campsite, his eyes closed, his face relaxed and inert, like a mask of flayed skin. There was a good chance he knew exactly what we were going to do, and a small but not insignificant one that he was somehow listening to every word we said.

”Yes,” I said finally. “We should be ready.”

We arrived in Teotihuacan, the Birthplace of the Gods, the following morning as the Fifth Sun crested the nearby mountain. The first thing we saw looming out of the morning haze were the pyramids, the towering monuments left by the gods in the beginning of this age. They were massive, as large – or even larger – than the Great Temple, mounds of ochre stone dwarfing their boundary wall, their white steps like a beacon of light.

The city itself was away from the religious complex, in a curve in the banks of a river. It was a much smaller affair than Tenochtitlan or even Texcoco, a profusion of temples and houses of adobe, with barely any ostentation. The streets were narrow but straight, set in the same grid pattern as all the cities of the valley. I kept expecting to see canals, but we were on dry land, and the only water was in the mud squelching under our sandals.

It was, and had always been, a place of pilgrimage, and as a result many residential complexes had been turned into temporary accommodation. Nezahual-tzin settled us into a mid-sized one – two courtyards, seven rooms spread around them – before dragging us out again to the nearest temples to ask if anyone had come looking for a powerful protection spell.

When we came back empty-handed, he snorted, and retired into the adjoining sweat-bath.

”The same ritual?” Teomitl asked.

”Why waste energy trying something else?” I couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

”Acatl-tzin?”

”He’s not thinking properly,” I said. “There is a much easier way of finding our missing councilman.”

Teomitl looked at me blankly. I sighed. “Think on it. Whatever happened at the palace, it had them all frightened for their lives. Pezotic came here looking for safety–”