Harbinger of the Storm (6 page)

Teomitl cut the guard off with a stab of his hand. A pale green light was dancing in his pupils, the power of Jade Skirt, his protector. The Duality only knew what he thought Chalchiuhtlicue could accomplish in this situation. She was more subtle than her husband the Storm Lord, but not by much.

I was slightly taken aback, but not surprised. Teomitl had absolutely no sense of humour when his face and his heart were questioned, or his reputation cast in doubt.

Better stop this before it went too far. Given the tense atmosphere of the palace, I had no intention of explaining why my student had attacked two guards. “Teomitl.”

He lifted his eyes – ageless, cruel, malicious – towards me. “They’re wasting our time with lies.”

”Yes,” I said, carefully. “I think dismissing them would be enough, don’t you? There’s been a lot of blood shed.”

For a moment I saw not him but Jade Skirt in the murky reflections within his eyes, in the way he seemed to grow taller. “There is never enough blood, priest,” She whispered, Her gaze piercing my flesh, holding me squirming like a fish on a pike. Distant, rhythmic voices whispering in my mind, like songs through underwater caves and then She left, the divinity draining out of Teomitl like water through a pierced vessel.

If I was shocked for a moment, and had to pause to recover my breath, it was nothing compared to the guards. The colour had gone from their faces, leaving them as white as sacrifice victims or drowned bodies.

The veteran looked from his colleague to Teomitl, and finally spat on the ground. “Who cares about her?” he said. “She’s not even Mexica. It was Xahuia-tzin, my Lord. She asked us.”

Xahuia was one of Axayacatl-tzin’s oldest wives, the daughter of Nezahualcoyotl, former ruler of our neighbour Texcoco, given to the Mexica Revered Speaker in marriage to cement the Triple Alliance. Her father had been a canny politician, and he had no doubt taught her all she would need to survive at Court. I was a fool; I had been so obsessed on imagining foreigners within the city that I had forgotten the most obvious, those already in the palace.

”What did she want?” I asked.

”An interview with Ocome,” the veteran said, cautiously. “She had an offer to make.”

”And she asked you?” Teomitl’s voice was contemptuous.

The burly guard, still visibly shaken, said, “Xahuia-tzin wanted us to let her inside, and leave her alone with him. She said he wouldn’t dare throw her out if she could find her way into his rooms, that turning her away at the door was one matter, but once inside, she’d have enough time to speak to him.”

I didn’t ask what Xahuia had wanted to speak to him about; it was obvious. Ocome, as Teomitl had said, was small and insignificant, a failure by his family’s standards, except now, at the one moment when his opinion would make a difference.

”So Xahuia came here,” I said. “And you left?” The body had been discovered in the middle of the night, around the Hour of Lord Death; but the death could have occurred well before that.

The guards glanced at each other. “Yes, soon after nightfall. She said she’d warn us when she was done.”

And they hadn’t returned until the She-Snake sought them out, which made a good four hours unaccounted for. Four hours left unguarded.

By their gazes, they knew they’d made a mistake; and I didn’t need to tell them. I wondered how much Xahuia had offered, what riches she’d turned their heads with. And why she’d wanted them away, at all costs. What was it that she’d done, that warranted total privacy?

The answer seemed obvious, a little too much so.

”I see,” I said.

”About the dismissal–” the burly guard started, but the veteran cut him off.

”There is something else you should know, my Lord.”

I wasn’t quite sure if he’d addressed me or Teomitl; but Teomitl was the one who reacted fastest, inclining his head towards the man in a grave, regal fashion. The feathers of his headdress bent, like hundreds of birds bowing at the same time. “What is it?” he asked.

”He was a man much in demand,” the veteran said. His lips curled into a smirk. “Many people came to see him, the other councilmen, Tizoc-tzin, Quenami-tzin, and Acamapichtli-tzin.”

The Master of the House of Darts, and my two peers. Not much surprise here.

”There were envoys, too,” the veteran said. “They came two or three times, and they didn’t look very friendly.”

”What envoys?”

”They had blackened faces, and heron-feathers spread in a circle around their heads. It was silent inside when they came.” He paused, and smiled without much amusement. “I imagined they didn’t find it necessary to talk much.”

”Intimidation?” Teomitl asked. The wrath of his protector

Jade Skirt was creeping back into his features. Had the boy learnt nothing in a year? He seemed barely able to control his powers tonight.

”It’s to be expected,” I said, more dryly than I’d intended to. “Threats or rewards are the way you move the world.” Even with gods – the only thing that changed were that the stakes, desires or fears had nothing in common with mortals. “When was the last time they came?”

The veteran thought for a while. “Three, four days ago. They might have come while we weren’t on guard, though.”

Odd. Why had they ceased coming? Had they got what they wanted?

”How long ago did Ocome shift his allegiance?” I asked Teomitl.

He made a dismissive gesture. “More than ten days ago, Acatl-tzin. That’s not it.”

It didn’t quite make sense. Was there yet another faction, or had one of the visitors decided to send others to intimidate instead of coming in person?

Teomitl nodded to the veteran. “Thank you,” he said. He looked at both of them, his eyes narrowing. “Which doesn’t excuse the fault.”

”My lord–” the burly guard started, but the veteran shushed him.

”I’ll take it into consideration,” Teomitl said. “In the meantime, you’d better think on what you’ve done.”

He waited until we were out of earshot to speak. “Gods, what fools.”

I didn’t know why I felt moved to defend them. “You don’t know what she offered them.”

 ”I can guess.” His face was still as harsh as carved jade. “Gold, feathers, silver. They’re no better than Ocome, they’d rather trample their faces and hearts than be destitute.”

”Many men would,” I said, at last. As High Priest for the Dead, I oversaw inquiries into all kinds of suspicious deaths; and I knew all too well the depths to which the human soul could sink. “Not everyone has your fortitude.” Or his fortune, indeed.

“That’s no excuse,” Teomitl said, a trifle abruptly.

I had seldom seen him like that; it was in moments like these that I felt much younger than him, less hardened to life at Court. I knew that his tutors at the palace had taken him back in hand since last year, but it was as if his brother’s death had cracked open a shell, revealing a pearl stuck inside, so luminous and warm that it would burn whoever touched it.

”Well, I hope it’s not Xahuia,” I said, as we walked out. It was evening, and the palace bustle was slowing down; the braziers’ red light shone in the rising gloom. Time to find some dinner, and then head home. It had been a short day which had started late, because of the sleeplessness last night.

”Why?” He looked puzzled. “That would finish the investigation quickly.”

”And launch us into a war with Texcoco.” The Revered Speaker of Texcoco, Nezahual-tzin, had acceded his throne when young with the support of Tenochtitlan. At sixteen, he remained a beleaguered young man eager to prove himself to his detractors. If we executed his sister, he would at the very least want compensation for her death, if not use the pretext to unify his people against us.

”We’d win the war in any case,” Teomitl said. He sounded smug. “We have twice their strength, and the better men.”

”I don’t think we need that kind of war on our hands right now.” As usual, he thought like a warrior first and I, no matter how high I’d risen, would always think like a peasant. His numbers presumed every single able man was pulled from the fields, which would be disastrous for the harvest. Glory was all well and good but not even the warriors would have food if the harvest was not gathered.

”Acatl-tzin.” He shook his head, mildly amused. I wasn’t entirely sure I liked the way his careless arrogance was turning into something much more contemptuous.

But, then again, I knew exactly who he was borrowing from, and I’d never liked the man’s arrogance.

His brother, Tizoc-tzin, perhaps our next Revered Speaker.

I shook my head. “In any case, we need to arrange protection for the remaining councillors.” I would have done it myself, but my patron Lord Death wasn’t exactly a god of protection against anything.

Teomitl barked a short laugh. “I’m not a priest.”

”You’re watched over by a goddess, though,” I said, but I knew he was right.

Teomitl looked dubious. “I’m not really sure…”

I shook my head. “No, you’re right.” Any spells Teomitl worked were likely to be large and unsubtle, and shine like a beacon. They might protect, but they’d also draw unwelcome attention. “We’ll offer them protection from the Duality.” I was sure Ceyaxochitl wouldn’t mind. She might groan and protest a little theatrically if she was in a bad mood, but she would understand the stakes.

She always did.

There were many feasts that night in the palace, loud and boisterous, the various candidates for the Turquoise-and-Gold crown showing their largesse and gathering their support. Teomitl, who disliked pomp, led us to the courtyard just outside his rooms, where we sat under the night sky, eating a simple meal of frogs and amaranth dough.

Afterwards, I headed back to my house to sleep – deeply and without dreams. The trumpets of the Sacred Precincts proclaiming the return of the Fifth Sun woke me up just before dawn. I got up, dressed, and found Teomitl already waiting for me, as much at ease as if it had been his own inner quarters he was sitting in, instead of under the lone pine tree in my courtyard.

”I could have picked you up on my way,” I said.

He smiled at me sweetly, innocently. “The palace is a dangerous place, Acatl-tzin.”

I snorted, but made no further comment.

”Where to?”

”The council,” I said; time to see if we could get answers out of them.

We entered the palace through the gates, where Yaotl’s wards shone in the sunlight, and headed towards the state room. We were perhaps halfway to it, bypassing the House of Animals where cages held everything from webbed-foot capybaras to dazzling quetzal-birds, when someone called out.

”Acatl!”

It was Quenami. The High Priest of Huitzilpochtli the Southern Hummingbird appeared to have found another set of ceremonial clothes: a heavy feather headdress falling on his back, and huge plumes hanging from his belt, spread like the wings of a hummingbird. He smiled at me with paternal condescension, never mind that he was the younger one here. “Just the man I wanted to see. Come, we need to see the council, and reassure them that nothing is wrong.”

Treating me like a peer when it suited him, not that I was surprised. “We were already on our way.”

If I’d expected to faze him, I was disappointed. “Perfect. Then let’s go together.”

I hid my grimace of distaste as best as I could, and fell in step next to him. He was going to be surprised, though, if he thought what I had to say was going to reassure the council.

We had a powerful summoner within the palace, capable of calling star-demons, and ruthlessly determined to influence the succession. Unless things went their way, I very much doubted that they would stop at the murder of one councilman.

Our only hope was to catch them before they struck again.

FOUR

The Council’s Quarrels

The state room was on the ground floor, below the Revered Speaker’s reception room. To reach it we crossed the courtyard, which, in daylight, was now deserted, order having presumably been restored by the She-Snake’s men.

By the noise that came through the entrance-curtain, the council was locked in a bitter discussion. I did not relish having to take part in it, but I also knew that anger made evasions more difficult. I might learn things I wouldn’t have found out from clear-headed men.

Teomitl touched my arm as Quenami lifted the entrancecurtain. “Acatl-tzin.”

”Yes?”

”I won’t be much use in here.” His eyes were fierce, still lit with something close to battle-frenzy. “I’ll go ask around, to see whose envoys they were. There aren’t that many liveries in the palace.”

I doubted that whoever had sent the envoys would have been so transparent, but, then again, I might be surprised. Subtlety wasn’t the hallmark of the nobility. They were all warriors, over-obsessed with their faces and their hearts. I nodded. Teomitl straightened up in a brief salute, and strode away.

Lucky man. I’d have given much not to have to face the whole council. With a sigh, I followed Quenami inside.

Like the reception room, the state room had been calculated to impress, painted with rich frescoes of Huitzilpochtli striding forth on the battlefield, holding four spears in His left hand, and a reed shield in His right. The Southern Hummingbird’s face, arms and legs were painted the deep blue of imperial tunics, and a huge eagle hovered over Him, its wings spread out over the whole of the Heavens.

The council sat on reed mats spread around the room. In the centre was a light lunch of maize wraps with mushrooms and frogs.

They were all men, most of middle age or older. One of them in particular looked old enough to have seen the founding of the Triple Alliance. He sat like a king, wrapped in intricate magical protections that clung tight to his body. No doubt he was the council’s leader in magic, if not in politics.

Tizoc-tzin was still nowhere to be see, but furthest away from the entrance was the She-Snake, engaged in what looked like a heated debate with his neighbour, a middle-aged man with a round face and traits reminiscent of an older Teomitl.

Quenami released the entrance-curtain. Whatever I thought about the son of a dog, I had to at least admit that his sense of timing was impeccable. The bells jangled and jarred against each other, and every gaze in the room turned towards us.