Istoria Online- Square One

by Vic Connor

  But at least it’s no prank: Iku nods solemnly and mentions that the rotting sludge—which Yolotl called something like ‘xytehuetl’—is key to his brew.

  Following Kokumo’s advice, we wait outside the Inn. I take the chance to check once more the shops along the Northern wall: Radimir’s metal tools and hardware—my old guns still on display—Gottfryd’s clockworks, Naseem’s spices and little ivory statuettes. The Bedouin smiles warmly when I ask him about the ‘black beans to boil in water’ and shows me a few small bags of coffee beans.

  “Few Aztecs dare drink it,” he confides, “but some scribes and record-keepers have grown fond of it, as it allows them to stay awake during long, boring meetings. In time, I hope,” he adds with a wink, “other prominent Aztecs will develop such taste.”

  A growing wave of curses and profanities reaches Naseem’s shop from the Durojaiye Inn. Moments later, a waft of awful stench assaults our noses.

  “Ah,” Naseem says, quick to close his coffee bags tight. “That’s Iku, cooking his foul hangover cure. Somebody had too much to drink yesterday.”

  “Too much … drink, yeah,” I say.

  “Surely those Spanish merchants selling clothes, eh?” He laughs. “That’s why the Prophet forbids alcohol.” He wrinkles his nose as the reek intensifies. “And I thank Him for placing my shop as far away from the Inn as possible.”

  “A good thing you didn’t tell me you needed the gold for this,” bellows Radimir from his own door, his imperial mustache no barrier for the stench, “or I would have shot you with the guns you sold me.”

  I can see why. Or better said, smell. I’ll have to remember to thank Kokumo for recommending we wait outside.

  A blood-curling roar echoes across the plaza from the Inn. “Beelzebub’s demons be takin’ ya t’ hell, you damned witch!” Abe yells. “What has ya dids t’ me!?”

  “That’s not a Spaniard,” Naseem observes.

  “He is not,” I reply. “And I believe you’d even insult him by such assumption.”

  At least, judging Abe’s roars, he is very much alive.

  By the time I get back to the Inn, Abe has calmed down. In fact, strength has abandoned him once again after that first surge of roaring anger. He slumps at a table, looking drunk. His eyes are open, though, and he sits somewhat upright; Uitzli is hugging his huge arm tight, clearly delighted to see him, while his rough hand pats her on the shoulder.

  As soon as I enter, Kokumo says, “I shall say it once more, boss, and not mention it again: your friend is too weak still, ja-nee. Nothing hearty meals and good rest won’t cure, but I can’t suggest walking all the way back to the Dutch town today.”

  She leaves us alone, dragging Ayelén and Torunn along with her.

  I join Miyu, Hendricks, and Juanita around the table.

  “Everybody is here,” Juanita says, her speech a little slurred. “At last.”

  Abe doesn’t remember much.

  “Ya givens me that foul brew, witch, ya dids,” he growls, “an’ all goes black, an’ then the other witch, Kokumo, be givens somethin’ even fouler.” He spits to the ground, grimaces, raises his hand to massage his neck and throat. “An’ me throat be hurtin’ somethin’ awful, an’ be feelin’ thirsty like all t’ water in all ‘em Scottish lochs ain’t enough t’ quench it… What t’ hell be about?”

  “We saved her,” Juanita tells him. “Thanks to you.”

  Abe’s eyes have trouble focusing, and he seems to only now notice Uitzli hugging his arm. “Lil’ angel…!” He chokes up.

  “Tiachkautli!” She giggles, and hugs him tighter.

  Abe scratches his forehead with his free hand…

  Memory Unlocked:

  Rabid Dog (1 of 3)

  Abe lies face up, sprawled on the ground.

  His head rests in a lake of blood.

  His own.

  Gushing from a horrific wound in his forehead, close to his right temple.

  He’s been shot. Shot in the head.

  Uitzli kneels beside him…

  …softly, she chants something which sounds like, “ua pal ton tli ua pal ton tli ua pal ton tli…”

  …places both snow-white hands on the gaping wound…

  “…ua pal ton tli ua pal ton tli ua pal ton tli”…

  “Uitzli!” I shout. “What are you doing!?”

  “…ua pal ton tli ua pal ton tli ua pal ton tli”…

  “Uitzli!”

  “She saved your life,” I tell Abe.

  “Ol’ Abe’s hide, it be worthless.” He nods, eyes unfocused. “A chance to save Ol’ Abe’s rottin’ soul, that be what our lil’ angel dids.”

  “You are talking nonsense, pirate,” says Juanita.

  “It be yarr fault, witch,” he replies, “an’ that foul brew o’ yours. But it be true, Lord Almighty be me witness: no harm will come to our sweet lil’ angel.” His hand, half clumsy and half tender, caresses Uitzli’s white hair. “Not while blood be in Ol’ Abe’s veins.”

  Juanita gives me a tired stare.

  “That’s…” I search for words. “That’s actually accurate, I have to say.”

  The pirate nods as a drunken man would.

  Kokumo, Ayelén, and Torunn have been busy recruiting and assembling battalions of beans and tortillas, and they make march our way, now; the food is similar to what the Dutchman and I shared for breakfast. Abe leaves words for another occasion and devours the food like he doesn’t expect to eat ever again. Hendricks eagerly joins him, and so do I. Uitzli focuses only on the beans, paying no mind to the tortilla.

  The Noh mask’s onyx beads survey the scene as though unsure of what’s going on, but finding it mildly amusing.

  Juanita toys with some tortillas, apparently forcing herself to munch and gulp. We exchange glances, but I cannot puzzle out what’s on her mind.

  “’Tis be much better, Devil be damned,” Abe says without pause in his munching. “Much, much better.” He looks at me. “Worry not, me lad: Ol’ Abe’s strength be back in no time!”

  “That be t’ Abe we wants to hear, arrr!” I reply. “It be a long way back to Duurstad, me mate.”

  “Jus’ as long as t’ way here, lad.” He gulps down his food. “Bain’t no hangover, be it from ale or wine or a witch’s brew, that can prevents this sea dog from walkin’, ya can be certain o’ that, lad!”

  “There is half dag walk to Duurstad still,” Hendricks says. “And is now mid-dag.”

  I look outside. “It’s midday now. We could make it to Duurstad by sunset, if we leave now…”

  “The pirate and I need rest, my child…”

  “Speak fer yarrself, witch! Ol’ Abe could swims all t’ way back t’ London if needed!”

  Hendricks shrugs and keeps eating.

  I look at the onyx beads behind the Noh mask.

  “Jake choose,” Miyu says.

  “By me everlasting torments, let’s be leavin’ ‘tis accursed pagan town behind as soon as we can, me lad.”

  “I have said my piece,” Juanita says quietly. “So, what shall we do, young Jake?”

  We leave as soon as we’re done eating. We need that map fast, and I want one of those gun schematics.

  We rest today, and we leave first thing tomorrow. The map is what matters, so better make the trip well rested.

  Yeah. The map should unlock the next step in the main quest, but I want one of those schematics, too.

  “Chop-chop, crew,” I say. “We leave as soon as we’re done.”

  27

  Common Enemy

  We have no luggage; after quick farewells with Kokumo and the girls while Abe cleans up the tortillas, we’re on our way.

  Crossing the plaza one last time, we hear Axolotl calling us. When he catches up with our group, he says, “I’d rather not travel too far from our walls. But would you mind if we walk together for a while?” He looks like he has something to share, but away from eavesdropping ears.

  “By all means,” I invite. “Please do.”

&
nbsp; We cross the wide arch of the Eastern gate and turn south as soon as we exit the city. The five Jaguar warriors, their disc-shaped talismans glowing bright under the noon sun, have the deference of offering a slight nod when we walk past them.

  “Thanks for health,” says one in crude English. “Health for little child.”

  Juanita replies in Nahuatl; her words sound harsh and bitter, but the warriors seem to appreciate them. One of them smiles.

  “Remember not to molest the young saplings,” Axolotl says as we make our way through the endless maize fields.

  His warning isn’t so easy to heed. The noon glare blinds Uitzli, and she needs to be led by the hand. I can’t do that, busy as I am with my crutches, so Miyu lets Uitzli grab the back of her kimono to use as a guide. Juanita, leaning drowsily on her staff, doesn’t look much better off, each step a new struggle.

  Abe has kept his word about being able to walk straight, yet from time to time he trips and loses his footing. I fear that if he falls down, the voices of maize saplings crying out in terror as they get smashed would disturb the Maize God and the Aztecs who, without a doubt, are watching us from atop their wall. Just as when we first arrived to the city, the feeling of being watched by vigilant eyes is physical, palpable.

  After traveling an arduous half-mile, we reach the sturdy bridge across the wide, lazy river cutting the cornfields in two.

  “You might as well tell us what you wanted, friend,” I mention to Axolotl, perhaps a little too abruptly. I stop in my tracks, because in response, he produces a large gold coin.

  “You’ve seen one like this before, then?” he asks, watching my expression.

  Of course I have. We also use gold coins in the sunrise lands, as you very well know.

  I think I have. It’s the sort of coin that would pay for a resurrection, correct?

  I may have. Why?

  Yes. I’ve been resurrected recently, and I paid with a coin such as that one.

  I doubt Axolotl would come all this way to play games. “I have,” I say, and tell him how I recently got resurrected and paid with one such coin.

  “Not just such as this, no,” he explains, “but this same coin.”

  I glance back at Tepetlacotli’s tall wall. “Would I be wrong in assuming I’d be covered in arrows in a heartbeat, were I to attempt wrestling that coin from you?”

  “You wouldn’t be wrong.” He smiles.

  “Yet you’re taking a risk,” I say. “Some of those arrows could hit you, too.”

  “They could. But I put less trust in our archers than I put in my own eyes. You are not a thief, my friend. I don’t know what your goals are, but you came to Tepetlacotli to save a friend, not to steal gold.”

  “Truth be told, we came for an escort job.” I nod toward Hendricks. “Of course, we were also looking for Uitzli, but we didn’t know for sure if she was here.”

  He stashes the shining piece of gold away. “How did you come into possession of this coin?”

  “I don’t seem to remember.”

  “How convenient.” He smiles.

  “Really? Do you think not remembering why I’m here could be convenient? That having access to only small, foggy fragments of my past makes life easier? Having to accept what others say I did or said or hated or liked, is that convenient?”

  His smile vanishes. “I did not—”

  “I don’t remember how I came by that coin in my previous life,” I repeat, annoyed. “Feel free to question your Smoking Mirror, Lord of Here and Now, for why he does things that way.”

  “I apologize,” he says. “Yes, I know that the Enemy on Both Sides demands a steep toll to those who return from the Other Land.”

  “Good. Don’t get me wrong, friend. I appreciate how you helped us reunite with Uitzli, and get Abe back on his feet, regardless of what advantage you may have gotten for yourself.

  “But you’re not just a simple slave who happened to escape and got lucky that we found you, so whatever it is you’d like to say or know, either spit it out now or let us be on our way. We don’t have time for games.”

  He studies me for a while, as if weighting how much to reveal and what to leave unsaid. “Your wise woman,” he says finally, with a glance toward Juanita, “described whoever would poison the Hight Priest’s little girl as an ungodly dark soul.”

  “Yes…”

  “Lord of Storms and Rain has many rivals among other Aztec Gods, and as such, High Priest Tlaloc has many enemies among other highbloods,” he says. “One of them—we suspect, but we are uncertain who—has taken the bold step of allying themselves with the enemies of Lord of Storms and Rains outside our walls.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you, my friend.”

  “The Spanish landlord I was fleeing from when you found me,” he explains. “El Señor Barboza. High Priest Tlaloc suspects he’s behind the little girl’s poisoning. That’s the reason I became a slave at Barboza’s plantation. It was my way to infiltrate his estate and find out what I could about Barboza’s doing. And uncover who among us Aztecs he’s working with.”

  “Oh, I suspected you were a high born. That’s why you speak several languages so well…” I nod. “Although you kept this to yourself until we arrived to Tepetlacotli.”

  “I couldn’t run any risks until I knew what your intentions were.”

  “Did you succeed? In finding out who Barboza is working with, I mean.”

  “I didn’t,” he admits. “I saw an Aztec messenger sneak into Barboza’s villa a few times, bringing and taking messages. I attempted to follow him and find out who he was, but I was careless. So many other slaves joined my escape that the guards noticed us. You know what happened then.”

  “You were lucky we found you, Axolotl.”

  “Gods leave little room to luck,” he tells me seriously. “They put my life in your hands.”

  “As I said back in the city: We helped you return to safety, you helped us get Uitzli back. You owe us nothing, as far as I’m concerned.”

  He gives me a warm smile. “And I thank you for your generosity. But the fact remains: We have a common enemy. You’re going after Barboza, are you not?”

  “As far as I can remember…” I smirk.

  “Then remember this, my friend. There’s a powerful man in Tepetlacotli who’d like to see you succeed, and someone equally powerful who’ll prefer to see you fail. And while your sunrise skin will bar you from entering our city proper, you and your crew will always be welcomed in the foreigner’s plaza.” He hands me what looks like a parrot’s feather, bright green with some blue hues. “At night, it’s closed to all, but from dawn until dusk, the eastern gate will be open to whoever carries this.”

  I take the feather; there’s a subtle electrical tingle in my fingers as I grab its stem. “Thanks.” I hide the feather inside the pocket near my heart.

  “And for you,” he says to Juanita, “wise High Priest Tlaloc sends this.” He hands her a tiny clay jug painted in an intricate multicolor pattern of red, black, yellow, and orange, its top sealed with beeswax.

  Juanita, head bowed low, holds the tiny jug with what looks like reverential fear.

  “You may need it soon,” Axolotl adds, “although I’ll pray that you do not.”

  “What’s this?”

  “A blessing,” Juanita explains. “From Lord of Thunder and Water.”

  “There be only one true Lord, ya accursed pagans…” grumbles Abe, his eyes still struggling to focus.

  “I disagree,” says Axolotl, “but hopefully, some tokens of gratitude are universal.” He produces a small, heavy-looking pouch and throws it to Miyu. The samurai catches it in the air, making its contents tinkle.

  She unties the cords keeping the bag shut and reveals what’s inside: a fistful of silver coins.

  “This should cover a few nights of food and lodging in Duurstad,” Axolotl says, “since you seem in too much a hurry to enjoy the hospitality in our city. Speaking of which, you have an appointment before su
nset, I believe?” He makes a point of looking up at the early afternoon sun.

  “That we do,” I confirm.

  He turns back toward his city and walks away silently.

  “That is een good gift,” Hendriks tells me. “The feather.”

  “I’d have preferred old-school Town Portal scrolls, to be honest,” I admit.

  “What is that?”

  I chuckle. “Never mind. By the way, Juanita, I thought you favored Lord of Mirrors over Lord of Thunders?”

  She offers a faint smile. “One cannot have too many gods on one’s side, my child.”

  “Maybe.” I smile back. “At least as long as our side doesn’t get so crowded they start quibbling and stepping on their toes, I guess.”

  The tiny multicolored jug disappears into the folds of her poncho. “We should be on our way, my child.”

  “Indeed.” I turn to the sturdy bridge across the lazy river. “C’mon, crew. Let’s get moving.”

  Dutchman and samurai lead the way east through the Southern Road, naginata and pistols at the ready. The pirate follows them, grunting and panting and sweating under the heat, massaging his neck and throat from time to time. His steps are insecure as he treads over the muddy trail.

  Uitzli and Juanita help each other along the path. Our progress is painful and much slower than when we came this way. I have no trouble at all keeping up, though; at least this time, I’m not the one dragging our party down.

  Juanita requests we take a break. Miyu and Hendricks keep moving forward to scout ahead; I stand on my feet and crutches, and Uitzli keeps me company while the witch and pirate sit down.

  Juanita wheezes, visibly struggling to catch her breath. “The little child’s poison,” she explains. “My body is still fighting what the Priestess purgative failed to leach.” She closes her eyes and winces. “And Lord of Here and Now is not pleased…”

  “What be yarr false lord bein’ pissed ‘bout, witch?” Abe demands. He pants too, profuse sweat drenching his bloodstained bandana. “Whatever ya dids last night, it be workin’ a’ight, aye?”