by Zoe Saadia
“What is it made of?” asked Kuini, eyeing the Plaza from his newly gained height. So many people, he thought, his stomach twisting uneasily. How many of those are living in this great city? And where did the others come from? Oh Gods, what a powerful nation! To be able to build all those things, to concentrate the multitudes of people together, to make them go about their business, orderly, busy and purposeful. He bit his lower lip. His peoples' enemies were much more powerful than they had ever imagined.
“Those are made out of marble,” he heard Coyotl explaining. “Because it’s the Great Pyramid with the most important temple on top of it. But you’ll see that the other pyramids’ staircases are usually made of stone.” He winked. “Less expensive than marble. Shall we go?”
They crossed the Plaza and headed up the wide avenue, lined with temples aplenty. Surrounded by a multitude of people, sometimes jostled and elbowed, Kuini could not relax, his hand resting on the wooden handle of his dagger, its touch reassuring.
“It’s a market day, you see,” said Coyotl, pushing his way forcefully through the crowds. “It’s so good to spend a morning outside the Palace! I feel like a boy again. So good to run around the city unattended. I can get away less and less since I’ve been made an official heir. I miss my calmecac days.”
“What do you do now?”
“Well, Father usually wants me to attend the morning meetings. People are coming from all over both valleys now with the war looming. So the Emperor has to listen carefully, then make them do whatever he wants. To pledge their allegiance, in this case. To join the upcoming campaign.”
Kuini leaped out of the way as a litter with curtains swept by, carried by sturdy, grim-looking men. “Can’t he just order them to join? He is an Emperor.”
“No, he can’t. Some provinces are more independent than the others. Some are paying more tribute, some less. Some are not paying at all. They have a status of allies.” Coyotl smiled proudly. “A wise Emperor would try to make people serve him voluntarily. This way they’ll do more for him. If their hearts are with what they are doing, they’ll excel beyond their regular effort. See?”
“Yes, I see. You’ll be that kind of an Emperor.”
“Oh yes, be sure of that!”
Kuini eyed the high wall that separated the avenue from the surrounding buildings. “Can we enter any of the temples? Maybe the smallest one?”
Coyotl grinned. “Yes, and I have in mind just the place for you.”
The temple was dim, all its shutters closed against the brightness of the outside. Kuini stood there, blinking, his eyes having difficulty adjusting to the semidarkness. He watched the curtained niches and the damp, stony tiles of the floor, his ears pricked. The heavy stench of stale blood, typical for the temples, enveloped him.
He glanced at Coyotl, who conversed with a priest, then let his eyes brush past the bright entrance. Two, three leaps and he would be outside, he estimated. He trusted his friend wholeheartedly; still, it was better to calculate one’s way out. One could never know, entering the temple of avowed enemies. His heart would be more than welcomed in this place. Not as much as the heart of a seasoned warrior, like one of his brothers, but still.
Coyotl came back. “He says we can peek into their collection, but only for a short time. So let’s do it quickly.”
He led the way toward one of the niches, and Kuini followed uneasily, reluctant to leave the safety of the near-entrance. Yet, when he saw his friend lifting the lid of a large chest, he forgot all about his misgivings. Piles of scrolls and folded papers, bark-sheets and wooden tablets, lay in the box in seeming disarray. Some painted, some carved, some drawn, colorful or grayish, they looked at him, begging to be picked up and explored.
He gasped. “Can we?”
“Go ahead.”
He could hear a grin in his friend’s voice, but he didn’t care. He picked a scroll, then another. In the semidarkness he had to bring them close to his eyes, to see what they held.
“See this?”
Coyotl picked up a long sheet. Unfolding it carefully, he placed it on the floor. The ends of the sheet were most conveniently glued to a wooden plaque decorated with turquoise. Kuini peered into it, studying the multitude of pictures, separated by decisively drawn red lines.
“You read it from left to right, you see?”
Kuini just nodded, awestruck. So much knowledge in one neatly folded sheet of paper!
“What’s that?” he asked.
“A calendar. But this one,” Unfolding another, shorter, sheet, Coyotl smiled proudly, “This one is an account of a battle.” He smiled. “The war we are facing will be documented too. I’ll see to that.”
It was already high noon when they emerged back into the brilliance of the outside. Delighted to breathe the fresh air once again, Kuini felt a twinge of disappointment. He would rather carry this whole chest out, to study it leisurely back upon the Tlaloc hill. Or better still, in the woods of his hometown. His head reeled. So much priceless information!
“Does every temple have so many scrolls?” he asked as they made their way up the wide avenue, the amount of people rushing past them growing with every step.
“Well, yes, but some temples keep only the papers that are related to them and their gods. Calendars and such.” Coyotl looked around. “Time to storm the marketplace, I would say. Before they come looking for me, all angry and indignant.”
“Were you supposed to be in the Palace?”
“Well, yes. But let us say, there was nothing particular this morning. So it’s not like I ran away against their direct orders.” He winked. “I can deal with them, and anyway, it was worth it. I never thought I’d see you so stunned, gaping like a woman at the jewelry stand. Quite a vision.”
“Oh, shut up!” Kuini shoved his shoulder into his friend’s side, but immediately felt uncomfortable in doing so. They might be friends, friends and equals, upon their Tlaloc hill, but here, in the mighty Capital, Coyotl was the Emperor’s heir. The careful glances of the people around them confirmed his impression. His friend seemed oblivious of the stares, or the way the crowds moved to clear their path, but Kuini felt every pair of eyes. So far, they had not been approached, but he knew that might change at any moment.
He frowned, trying to remember which nationality he was supposed to belong to. What was the name of the province they had agreed to mention?
“First we get that octli for you. And something to eat,” announced Coyotl as the marketplace appeared in a colorful mess of alleys, stands, and people. So many people! If he thought the Plaza or the avenue with the temples was crowded, he knew now that it was nothing compared to the marketplace. Oh gods! Did that many people exist in the whole world? He clutched his fists tight and concentrated on his attempts to stay beside his friend in the turbulent human river.
“Here!”
Breathing with relief, Kuini followed Coyotl into a side alley. It was also full of stands and people, but not to the extent of the main road. An oasis of peacefulness.
A plate of stuffed tortillas and a cup of octli - indeed a much more pleasant beverage than a pulque - helped him feel better. But the good feeling did not last. As they ate, watching the market frequenters playing a bean game, a group of warriors appeared at the far end of the alley. Kuini tensed, watching. The warriors seemed to be heading their way. His hand found his dagger, fingers slick against the string tying it to his girdle.
As the warriors neared, even the bean players stopped their game, eyeing the symbols upon the warriors’ cloaks suspiciously.
“Revered First Son,” said the leading man, addressing Coyotl. “Your presence is required in the Palace.”
Coyotl frowned. “Who sent you?”
“Your Revered Father,” said the warrior, lowering his gaze.
“Is this to be an official audience?”
“Yes, Revered First Son. The Chief Warlord of the Aztecs has just arrived in the city.”
“Oh,” Coyotl gazed around as if pondering as to how to pro
ceed. It was strange to see him losing some of his cheerful confidence. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll be in the Palace shortly. You can go now.”
The warrior shifted uneasily. “We have orders to escort you, Honorable First Son.”
Coyotl’s teeth sank into his lower lip. “I have a guest touring this city. I have to see him off first.”
The leading warrior looked at Kuini for the first time, his gaze curious. “Why does your guest not accompany us?”
Coyotl’s eyes lit up, and he grinned slightly, eyeing Kuini with a silent question, a challenging one.
Kuini shook his head. “Listen,” he said, fighting the urge to clear his throat. “It’s all right. I can find my way out. I’ll be all right.”
Coyotl frowned. “No! Wait for me,” he said imperiously, back to his confident self. He gestured for the warriors to step back and turned to Kuini. “Listen, wait here,” he said quietly. “I’ll send two of my most trusted slaves to guide you out of the city. It won’t take long, so just stay here and eat and drink some more.” He pressed a small bag into Kuini’s hand.
“What’s that?”
“Cocoa beans. To pay for things. Do you think they’ll just feed you because of your pretty tattoos?”
Kuini looked into the dancing eyes. “Take away your filthy beans!” He laughed, pushing the bag away. “I’ll find my way out myself. Don’t need your nursemaids around.” He grinned, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’ll sleep on the hill tonight. Come and see me tomorrow if you can.”
“Are you sure? I don’t think it would be wise.”
“I’m sure. Now, go before those manure-eaters grow restless and start wondering about these pretty tattoos of mine.” He returned the warriors' gazes, incensed with their study of him. The obsidian swords tied to their girdles sparkled against the strong sun. He wished he’d had enough sense to bring his club.
“See you on the hill,” he said, turning around. He took a deep breath and dove into the hubbub of the main road.
This time it was somewhat easier to make his way among the crowd, he discovered, surprised. The stares that had followed him with Coyotl were no more. No one paid him any attention, no one bothered to look. He was just a youth of no significance. A foreigner with tattoos on his face, but still just one of many.
Feeling better by the moment, replete with food and a spicy drink, he strode along the main road, eyeing stalls with colorful materials and jewelry, mats with plenty of fruits and vegetables, and the low tables of the food owners. This altepetl was something he could not comprehend.
He lingered beside a pile of cloth, marveling at the rich coloring. If he dared, he would touch it to make sure it was real.
A tall, slender girl in a plain maguey blouse and skirt brushed past him, halting next to the colorful pile. She picked a brim of the deepest turquoise and eyed it dubiously.
“It’s nice,” she said. “Nice touch. Are these Mayan cloths?”
“Yes, they are,” answered the stall owner grimly. He looked the girl up and down, taking in her dusty outfit. “And don’t you touch any of it, unless you have enough cocoa beans to pay for them.”
The girl tossed her head, throwing her thick shiny braid behind her shoulder. “Don’t you talk to me like that! You have no idea how many of those beans I do have.” She looked around, meeting Kuini’s eyes. “And what are you staring at?” Her eyes were large and very dark, sparkling like a pair of polished obsidian earrings.
“Nothing,” he said, unable to fight a smile.
“Then go about your business,” she said imperiously, then turned back to the stall owner. “I don’t have any right now, but the next time I’m here I will make a point not to buy any of your things.”
“Go away,” was the man’s answer. “I know all about your type.”
The crowds parted, and Kuini’s attention leaped toward another group of warriors, his heart accelerating. These wore shorter, unadorned cloaks of a spotted pattern, and they moved through the crowds aggressively, clearing the path. A large litter progressed at some distance, swaying lightly with the paces of the litter-bearers.
His instincts took him off the road, made him dive between the stalls and the packed gaping people. Calming down, he watched the warriors sweeping by, fascinated by their fierce looks.
“Who are they?” he asked the man beside him.
“Aztecs, who else? See their spotted cloaks? Arrogant bastards.”
The Aztecs! Kuini took another step back, treading on someone’s toes. He saw the palanquin nearing and felt the people pressing backwards. Contemplating going deeper into the crowds, he glanced back at the road, his eyes catching a glimpse of the girl who had argued with the trader earlier. She turned away from the pile of materials and watched the nearing warriors, seeming to be somewhat at a loss.
“Move away, you stupid cihua,” barked one of the warriors.
She took a clumsy step back, but was not fast enough. Turning to her impatiently, the warrior shoved her aside with a swift thrust of his elbow. The girl lost her balance and crashed into the crowds behind her. Kuini watched, unsettled. She looked so helpless and lost, sprawling there in the dust. Damn warriors, he thought, then gasped, seeing the girl springing to her feet with surprising agility considering her previous clumsiness.
“How dare you?” she screamed, leaping toward the warrior.
The armed man whirled around and stared, his eyes wide with obvious surprise. Fists clenched, the girl grabbed the edge of his cloak and tried to punch the man’s wide chest. The rest of the warriors roared with laughter, and even the litter-bearers chuckled.
The man had no difficulty clutching the girl’s slender wrists in one hand. “What a wild ocelot!” he cried out, eyeing his companions. “What should I do with her?”
His attention still on his companion, he didn’t notice the girl’s arm slipping away. Only when the sharp, polished nails sank into his face did he pay attention. Letting out a surprised gasp, he tore her hand off his bleeding face, now clearly enraged.
“You slimy, dirty, stupid market rat!” he roared. His palm rose again and again, and the girl lost her fighting spirit, whimpering and trying to cover her face to avoid the blows. “I’m going to kill you, I swear!”
Kuini’s legs carried him through the crowd of their own accord. Before he could give it any thought, he had locked his hands around the warrior’s arms, pushing the man away with a strength he hadn’t suspected himself capable of. The warrior staggered and fought to keep his balance, cursing, almost spitting with rage.
Another warrior stepped forward.
“Shove off, boy,” he said, pushing Kuini violently. “Unless you are looking for a good beating.”
Breathing heavily, Kuini tried to control his temper. To pick a fight on the marketplace, in the midst of his enemies’ city, was the last thing he should have been doing.
He was about to move away, when the first warrior regained his balance. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the man pouncing and ducked as much out of an instinct as out of training. A fist that was supposed to crush him senseless brushed against his shoulder. He saw the exposed ribs of the man, and it felt only natural to shove his elbow into the softness of the man’s belly. The warrior gasped, and Kuini saw his chance, his sandaled foot crushing against the man’s knee, sending him groaning into the dust. Leaping aside, he felt more than saw another warrior moving toward him. This one had his sword already out.
“I swear I’ll kill you, filthy manure-eater,” hissed the man. Broadly built, he looked short, but only because of his wideness. Face twisted with rage, he leaped toward Kuini, trying to reach him with a simple thrust.
Pressed against the crowds behind his back, Kuini had no difficulty avoiding the first blow. He tried to dash toward the open road behind the palanquin, but the other warriors blocked his way. They did not have their swords out, not yet.
Ducking to avoid another blow, he listened to his instincts urging him to try
the other side of the palanquin. He dove between the legs of the stunned bearers and rolled over into the road, scratching his limbs against the rough wood of the palanquin’s floor.
The freedom of the open road beckoned, but some of the warriors guessed his intention, and two of them already waited on the other side, their swords out. He rolled away in time to avoid the touch of the sharp obsidian, the sword crashing the dusty ground. Springing to his feet, he leaped backwards, only to collide with another warrior. The blow in the side of his head sent him reeling, but he managed to keep his balance, leaping aside to avoid another one.
Dizzy, he tried to see where the warriors were not present, but the obsidian spikes seemed to be sparkling everywhere, reflecting the fierce midday sun.
“Stop it!” A powerful voice rang loudly in the dead silence.
Kuini’s eyes leaped toward the palanquin as the curtains moved aside and the man stepped out, his shoulders wide, his bearing imposing. The broad arrogant face looked at him briefly, then moved toward the warriors.
“What is this?” asked the man, voice dripping with disdain. There was a slight accent in his speech, different from the Nahuatl spoken in the Lowlands. “A free hunt? My glorious warriors fighting with unarmed children? I’m impressed. Deeply impressed.”
The warriors dropped their gazes, and the man with the damaged knee tried to get up, a guilty expression twisting his face.
“So this is what we have come to? And the boy made you work, I see. Alone, and almost unharmed, while one of my warriors is wounded, and the rest can’t breathe from the effort to hunt this one down.” The man’s lips quivered. “What a show for the benefit of the market frequenters. Shall I enlist this boy to fight the Tepanecs instead of you, lot?”
Fascinated, Kuini watched the man, knowing that he’d been temporarily forgotten, and this would be the best time for him to slip away. Still, he could not tear his eyes off the broad face. There was something familiar in the wide cheekbones, in the widely spaced, large eyes, in the way the man stood there, so straight and dignified. And there was this accent too. Somewhere he had heard this accented Nahuatl before.