Harbinger of the Storm (27 page)

”Princess Xahuia came here,” I said.

”With a councilman. For an oath.” He didn’t even attempt to evade the questions. Clearly, he’d have preferred to wash his hands clean of the whole business.

What he told me was brief, but it confirmed Xahuia’s story that she’d convinced Ocome to swear an unbreakable oath of loyalty to her. Not that I had doubted it, but still…

Now Tizoc-tzin, the She-Snake and Acamapichtli were the ones with the strongest motive. Tizoc-tzin, strongest of all.

”Did you see other councilmen?” I asked.

”Of course.” I’d half-expected he’d deny that, but he was an honest man, a breed all too rare in the palace.

”Manatzpa?”

”Among others.” His voice was cautious again.

Others? “What do you mean?”

Ueman’s gaze drifted towards the expanse of the Imperial Palace, which appeared small and pathetic from such a height. “I’ve had ten councilmen come to me since the beginning of the month, Acatl-tzin.”

Ten was about the whole council, minus the inner circle. “I don’t understand. What did they want?”

”The same thing Manatzpa wanted. The Breath of the Precious Twin.”

There was a fist, slowly closing around my lungs, cutting the breath through my windpipe. “All of them? They all came to you for protection?” Still, there had been star-demons loose in the palace. Ocome had died, and they were under threat. Surely it was enough of a reason to buy a spell?

”Yes.”

”When?” I asked.

My heart sank when he gave me the dates, which all predated Ocome’s murder. Manatzpa had been the first to come, in the wake of Axayacatl-tzin’s death; the others had followed in small groups, almost jostling each other on the temple steps.

”This makes no sense,” I said.

”I can’t give you sense,” Ueman said, stiffly. “All I can tell you is what I witnessed.”

”I know. My apologies. I didn’t mean to impugn your honesty.” For once somebody wasn’t trying to defraud me or lie to me. It was a feeling I’d forgotten, and that was disturbing. The palace had its own rules, and it had slowly sucked me in, to the point I hardly was aware of what was normal.

Never again. As soon as this sordid business was finished, I’d go back to my temple, with only the occasional visit to the palace. Yes. I’d do that.

But, coming back to the matter at hand… I hadn’t been mistaken, back when I had interviewed all the councilmen: they had all been deathly afraid. There had been mundane and magical threats. But this huge, complicated, expensive spell… It seemed almost too much.

It was almost as if they had known the star-demons would come for them.

But how could they have?

It made no sense.

”I see,” I said to Ueman. I pushed the basket towards him. He took it with a puzzled frown, and opened it to peer at its contents.

Butterflies and jade ornaments, and the feathers of quetzal birds, as green as emeralds. “What are those for? Surely you’re not–”

”Paying you for your answers?” I shook my head. “Of course not. Those are for the god.”

”Have you a question, then?”

”No. I have a soul to entrust to His keeping.”

”I see.” His eyes were wide, his gaze as tender as that of a mother for her son. “The Feathered Serpent doesn’t own the Dead, Acatl-tzin. You should know that better than I.”

”He–” An unexpected obstruction had welled up in my throat, making the world swim. I swallowed. “He went down into the underworld once, for the bones of the Dead. He came back.”

”Yes.” Ueman closed the basket, but did not look away from me. “It was a long time ago. The Fifth Age hadn’t yet started, and the gods still had Their full powers.”

”Surely…”

”I can ask.” His voice was quiet, gentle. “He is benevolent and wise. It cannot hurt.”

But he wasn’t sure whether it would help. I hadn’t thought it would, but it was worth a try. Ceyaxochitl had deserved better than the darkness, and the cold, and the dust. “Very well. Thank you,” I said, and rose, and walked away from the Wind Tower, trying to forget the sting in my eyes.

I was hoping to catch Teomitl in the palace, and work out some plan for dealing with Tizoc-tzin, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. So instead I headed to the council room.

The funeral rites were underway, the palace rang with the lamentations of my priests, and everything smelled of incense and burnt paper. From far, far away, I caught a hint of a litany for the Dead:

“We leave this earth

This world of jade and flowers

The quetzal feathers, the silver…”

The council as a whole had nothing more to tell. They huddled amidst copal incense in the depths of their rooms, as if sunlight itself had become a blight, as shrunken and diminished as Tizoc-tzin, as if they were already funeral bundles arrayed for cremation after a long wake.

They wore the Breath of the Precious Twin. They had paid for it, most of them. But why?

Something
was
wrong, it was more than star-demons poisoning the atmosphere of the palace, but the more I pressed them, the more I got the feeling of standing amidst an elaborate pageant like a sacrifice victim, already removed from the preoccupations and the cares that plagued every other participant from the priests to the worshippers.

The Duality curse me, what was I missing?

There was not much to do for it, I would
have
to see the SheSnake again. He was the only one who might still cooperate. Quenami had become just an extension of Tizoc-tzin’s will, and Acamapichtli, the High Priest of Tlaloc, was following his own purposes away from Court, which worried me, but I couldn’t do much about it. The She-Snake’s guards were all over the palace, and he had to have some inclination of what was going on. The only question was whether he would share it with me.

I headed to the half of the palace which held the SheSnake’s quarters.

”Acatl-tzin!”

I turned, half-expecting Quenami again but instead I saw Nezahual-tzin, the boy-Emperor of Texcoco. He had changed into the regalia befitting a Revered Speaker; a turquoise cape, its hem embroidered with hundreds of tiny eyes, though he still carried his small shield with him, emblazoned with a coyote woven of feathers, the emblem of his father, and his
macuahitl
sword, its embedded shards shimmering with green and red light, the touch of the Feathered Serpent. Two warriors followed him, not the Jaguar Knights he’d had with him before, but I presumed Texcocan elite guards.

”I need to speak with you,” he said. It was an order as much as a request, coming from a man with whom no one dared argue.

Of course, I had no choice.

He walked me back to the courtyard of the imperial chambers and climbed the steps to the terrace, where he chose one of the other two doors, the apartments held aside for the rulers of the Triple Alliance, Texcoco and Tlacopan.

Inside, frescoes spread across the walls, depicting the descent of Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, into Mictlan and His return, with the broken bones of the Dead made whole by the shedding of the gods’ blood. The braziers burnt copal incense, but not a variety I recognised, a more spicy, tangy smell than what I was used to, almost as if some medicinal drugs had been added to it. I could only hope they were not meant to induce visions, for as a High Priest, my mind hovering on the boundaries of the Fifth World already, I would have little defence against those.

Nezahual-tzin sat cross-legged on a low-back chair without much ceremony, though the setting was imperial – a jaguar pelt under his feet, a turquoise cloak, negligently wrapped around the wicker back, and a golden cup of steaming chocolate set before him on the dais. Something glimmered behind him, the limned maw of a great snake, the collar spread like blossoming daffodils, the pearly fangs closing just above his feather-headdress. Quetzalcoatl in the Fifth World. I had been wrong: Nezahual might actually be the agent of the Feathered Serpent on earth, the repository of all His wisdom.

”What did you want to ask?” I said. I stood; for he had not invited me to sit down.

”I have an offer to make you.” Nezahual-tzin considered the chocolate in front of him, as if it held the key to the Fifth World.

”An offer?” He made it sound like something illegal. “In exchange for my support?”

He smiled, looking like a younger version of the She-Snake. The Duality take him, he had learnt politics at the She-Snake’s knee; not the current one, but his father before him, the man who had forged an insignificant city into a wide-spanning empire. “Don’t be a fool, Acatl-tzin. I have enough trouble in Texcoco without adding more.”

But of course he’d be interested in having a sympathetic Revered Speaker, one who would respect his place in the Triple Alliance.

”Actually, what I wanted to offer was my assistance in tracking down Xahuia.”

”We’ve already got men after her,” I said. I had no doubt he would sacrifice her to further his own ends. He would not have survived for so long, or remained Revered Speaker in his own right and not a vassal of Tenochtitlan, if he had been naïve. But I didn’t know what his own ends might be.

”Efficiency does not appear to be a quality of your men.” He sounded amused. “She’s disappeared for four days. Knowing my sister, she’s already making other plans, and you won’t like them.”

”We’re doing what we can,” I said, stung.

”Of course you are.” Nezahual-tzin lounged on the chair looking thoughtful. The smell of incense grew stronger as if he had fanned it himself, prickling my nostrils. “But still, you are not blessed by the Feathered Serpent.”

”So you are His agent?” I asked. No point in dancing around each other like fighting jaguars. Diplomacy had never been my strongest quality.

”Perhaps.” Nezahual-tzin smiled again. His grey eyes rolled up, revealing eerily white pupils, filled with a single pinpoint of light. I did not back down, having been expecting something like this for a while. Besides, whatever he looked like paled beside star-demons. “I have quite enough power for this, I assure you.”

”But I have no idea what you’re using it for,” I said.

”Fine. Let’s be blunt with each other, then. It ill suits me to see the Fifth World endangered. I have vested interests in seeing who becomes Revered Speaker, I will confess, but being torn apart by star-demons is not part of my plans, now or in the future.”

Everything about him sounded or looked older than he was. I couldn’t be sure if being Revered Speaker had aged him, or if Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, was indeed speaking through him. Either way, he worried me. I could deal with Teomitl’s brash innocence, but with Nezahual-tzin I kept thinking I was speaking to a spoiled adolescent, but he wasn’t one. He had probably never been.

”And you’re offering–”

”You know true sight,” Nezahual-tzin said. “You’ve probably used it.”

”Of course.” It was one of the rituals anyone could use without being a devotee of the Feathered Serpent, not one of the god-touched mysteries.

”There is another ritual.” Nezahual-tzin’s voice dropped a fraction, echoing as if through a great cavern. “A deeper, more ancient one from the Second Sun, of which the true sight is but a faint remembrance.”

The Second Sun had been the Age of Quetzalcoatl, presided by the Feathered Serpent in all His glory until the Smoking Mirror, Quetzalcoatl’s eternal enemy, had changed mankind into chattering spider-monkeys. “That’s what you want to do? If it was that simple–”

”Oh, no, it’s not that simple.” Evening had come and Nezahual-tzin’s teeth shone white in the gathering darkness. Slaves moved to light the braziers, the smell of charcoal overwhelming that of copal for a brief moment. “The Feathered Serpent does not require human blood, but he does ask for penance, and preparation.”

”Fasting, and meditation,” I said. “I’m not totally ignorant.”

”Good,” Nezahual-tzin said. He pushed the cup of chocolate aside. “A full night’s vigil is what is usually required, from the emergence of the Evening Star until the Morning Star’s dawn.”

Another way of telling me he needed my answer now, or we would have to wait another day to track down Xahuia.

Teomitl had not trusted him, but Teomitl’s judgment was hardly impeccable. Still…

”I’m not your enemy, Acatl-tzin,” Nezahual-tzin said. “I assure you.”

”You…” He was a politician; a born liar. “I can’t trust you.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think.

He looked at me, his eyes rolling up again in that eerie way. Had he been Tizoc-tzin, I’d already have been on my way to the imperial cells but instead he said nothing. Silence spread in the room, grew oppressive.

”Nezahual-tzin…”

”No, I understand your reluctance. But understand, Acatltzin, as long as Xahuia is loose in Tenochtitlan, I am at risk. I am her countryman; worse, her brother. If she is accused of destructive sorcery, then…”

”I shouldn’t think your reputation was so bad.”

”It has been better,” Nezahual-tzin, with not a trace of humour. “As you said to the pup, I know who to sacrifice, and when. Xahuia has done her time.”

I wasn’t sure whether to admire his frankness, or to despise him for his calculations. I said the first thing which came to mind. “You underestimate Teomitl.”

”Perhaps.” He did not sound convinced. The ghostly serpent behind him swayed in a rustle of feathers. “But that is beside the point. Will you take my help, Acatl-tzin, if only on this?”

It wasn’t safe. Quite aside from the fact that I didn’t trust him or his motives, there was also the question of his allegiance. He was of the Triple Alliance, but not Mexica, and Tizoc-tzin would seize on any association between us to make me look worse in the eyes of the Court. I ought to have refused him. I ought to have walked away from whatever he proffered, trusted my instincts and let Yaotl’s men continue the search. But the Duality was weak, and the Southern Hummingbird had retreated to safer climes and could not help us any longer.