by Zoe Saadia
“And the Aztec?” he asked, refusing to be pacified. She was right, of course she was right. What would his father’s origins matter? But his anger kept growing, impossible to control.
“What Aztec?” she asked, genuinely bewildered.
“The Aztec. The Chief Warlord. The man who had called him ‘little brother.’”
“Oh, that man.” She narrowed her eyes as if attempting to collect her thoughts. “This man, indeed, is your father’s older brother. He is a good man too. Not like your father, but good enough.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes. He saved my life once.”
“Oh, how exciting!” He heard his own voice growing louder, dripping with disdain. He could not stop himself. If he could, he would jump to his feet and run away, never to return. “What a lifesaver. He saved mine too, you know? Such a benevolent spirit, watching over our family. I’m sure he’ll be there if Nihi or the others would get into trouble, leaping from behind a tree or a rock, to save their lives too.”
“Kuini, stop it!” she said sharply. “I’m talking to you as to a grown person, and you are acting like a child.”
He clenched his fists, welcoming the pain in his shoulder this time. “Because I’m tired of this,” he hissed through his clenched teeth. “Because I grew up like a regular Chichimec of the Highlands, and now I’m discovering that what I really am is a filthy Tepanec and what-not. In Texcoco they all kept taking me for a Tepanec, and now I understand why. I am that. The filthy Tepanec. Maybe I’ll go back to the Lowlands and join Tezozomoc’s warriors now that they are landing on Texcoco shores. At least I’ll be fighting with my people! I’m sure they’ll be delighted to enlist me, a son of a nobleman from their filthy altepetl, whatever it’s called.”
She jumped onto her feet. “I don’t have to listen to this!” Her chest rising high with every breath, she glared at him, making a visible effort to control her temper. “I’ll bring you your ointments and food, and some water to wash up. You rest in the meanwhile. Rest and try to get back to your senses.”
Her steps were swift, hissing angrily upon the earthen floor. He shut his eyes. May they all go to the lowest level of the Underworld! To that lifeless vastness one had to cross on his way to the eastern sky paradise if he did not die properly, the warrior’s death. That place where the obsidian rocks would clash against each other, threatening to squash the careless passerby. He could imagine his father making his way in that grayish nothingness, against the slashing wind and the swirling dust.
Trembling, he opened his eyes. Did the man deserve that for being born a filthy Tepanec? No. But he deserved that for lying about it. He, Kuini, had grown up surrounded by lies, knowing nothing about the people who brought him to this World of the Fifth Sun. And Mother too! What was she doing in Texcoco those twenty and a half summers ago? Nothing worth mentioning. Of course. He believed her on that. Another dark secret that would probably make him feel even worse.
There was a small pottery bowl full of water. Hands trembling, he snatched it, then threw it against the wall, watching it break into many large pieces. The pain in his back exploded, but he welcomed it, grinding his teeth. It took the edge off his rage, if only for a little while. He stared at the wet blanket and his loincloth. He should have drunk the water first.
The sight of his loincloth sprinkled with drops of water brought back the memory of the pond and her, naked and laughing, splashing him out of its depths. He caught his breath. How many dawns had passed? Mother said he had been sick for three dawns, then another two or three while on the journey. Oh gods! The market interval was over. He was supposed to have been there, on the Plaza, today, or maybe even the day before.
He bit his lower lip until it hurt. All right, he thought. Think. There was no need to panic, not yet. He was late, but she would still be there, in the Palace. She wouldn’t be sent to Tenochtitlan that fast. So, even if late, he will find a way to reach her, to let her know.
He got to his feet with difficulty, wincing with pain. Stepping off his mat, he stood there, leaning against the wall, regaining his strength. He was in no condition to make his way to Texcoco, but then, in a day or two, or maybe three, he would recover. He was late anyway, so a few more days wouldn’t matter. She would have to wait just a little longer.
Unsteadily, he went into the main room, suddenly hungry. Eyeing the simple interior of the familiar house, he felt his rage returning. It was all so pleasant and simple once upon a time, before he went to Texcoco. This house, this town, the Highlands, his family, all so familiar, so trustworthy. But now? Now, they had all changed. Or was it him? He took a deep breath. Yes, it must be he who had changed.
He thought about Coyotl, unable to suppress a grin. His friend would be stunned when he told him. He could picture the slender face of the emperor’s heir, eyes wide, mouth gaping. He had been the first to state that Kuini looked like a Tepanec. How ridiculously correct he had been.
He hit the wall with his fist. He’d go back and join Coyotl in his fight against the Tepanec invasion. That was it! He had wanted to do it all along, but was afraid to betray his people should his father, the Leader of the Warriors, decide not to join this war. Oh, but the honorable leader turned out to be not as pure, not as honest as previously thought. So he, Kuini, had no obligations to that man anymore. He smiled bitterly. There was nothing to stand in his way now. He hit the wall once again, wincing with pain.
“I suppose this wall is built to hold up against all this pounding.”
Gasping, Kuini turned around, recognizing the amused derisiveness of the familiar voice. The Aztec stood in the doorway, arms folded, legs wide apart, blocking the late afternoon sun with his broad shoulders, tall and even more imposing without his cloak, the necklace upon his wide chest glittering. The man looked well rested, refreshed and sunburned, younger than his years again. Not the same man Kuini had remembered last seeing, old and exhausted, gray with fatigue, preparing to die with honor.
“Glad you to see back among the living,” said the Aztec, coming in unhurriedly. “Even if spitting with rage, attacking those helpless walls.” The man squatted beside a low table and reached for an unpainted flask. He filled two cups and nodded to Kuini. “Come. Sit and have a drink with me. I wish it was octli, but your people seem to be fond of pulque, and I wouldn’t touch that drink even had it been the last beverage left in the whole Fifth World.”
Clasping his lips tight and trying not to sway, Kuini crossed the room and sat on the opposite mat, almost weak with relief. He needed to recover his strength fast.
“So, I see you didn’t take well to all this family history revealed to you under somewhat dubious circumstances.” The man drank thirstily. “I can understand you, you know. It was too much and not the best of the timing. I was feeling like fainting myself, I have to admit.”
Oh, he remembered that, the face of the Aztec, lifeless, covered with dust and drained of blood, thrown off his usual confident self. He remembered thinking that the man would faint any moment. Another meal, shared with this man, surfaced.
“You told me you had a brother somewhere around the Blue Mountain,” he said quietly. “But I never thought…” He shrugged, forgetting his wounded shoulder.
“Oh, neither did I. Although, upon reflection, you looked familiar, almost painfully so. But I was too busy to think about it. The filthy Acolhua Emperor took my mind off that wild market boy.” The amused grin widened. “If you looked more like your father, I would have noticed. But when a boy looks like a reflection of yourself, one tends to miss the connection all together.”
To take his thoughts off this new realization, Kuini reached for his cup. The water refreshed him, took away the bitter taste in his mouth. “I’m going to join Texcoco in their war against the Tepanecs,” he said, studying the cracks upon the old table.
“Why would you do that?” There was no trace of amusement in the Aztec’s voice now.
Kuini looked up. “Because I owe nothing to any of you n
ow. Because the only person who was honest with me is now facing this war, and I want to help him, if for no other reason than because he has never lied to me, never told me half-truths.” He stood the hardening gaze. “Yes, the First Son, the heir, Nezahualcoyotl, my friend of many summers, was the only person who never lied to me.” He tried to stop his hands from trembling, his rage welling, impossible to control. “So yes, I will fight those Tepanecs, yours and my father’s people.”
The Aztec’s grin returned slowly. “Oh, you are a mess, kid,” he said, the twinkle creeping back into the dark, well-spaced eyes. “I suppose it’ll do you good, you know? To go away on this campaign. You have great potential, you are brave and fearless, and your instincts are good. Yes, you’ll make a great warrior, and I suppose it’s about time to start your training for real.” The man’s grin widened. “I would take you with me to Tenochtitlan, but in the state your mind is in now, you won’t have it. Although, it would be a perfect solution.” He shrugged, gulped the last of the water. “While away, you will see that your father did nothing wrong. You are frustrated, wounded, and you came to discover your family secrets at the worst of timing, so now you are taking your anger out on him. But it’ll change.” The grin disappeared. “Your father is a great man, you see? He did a remarkable thing. With unusual courage, he left his own people for the sake of the unknown. I left too, but I went to Tenochtitlan, another well-known altepetl, almost the same customs, almost the same people. While your father switched a winning nation for the defeated one. The Highlanders were defeated, scattered by the Tepanecs, who had done this for the sake of their Acolhua cousins. The slaves markets were bursting back then with all those Chichimec women and children. Ask your mother.” He shrugged. “They are still not an empire, those Nahua and Chichimec Highlanders, but they are better off now. And your father played a considerable part in this recovery. He is not the Leader of the United Clans for nothing, kid. Think about it.” The large eyes held Kuini’s gaze, penetrating. “After so many summers of being a Highlander and a leader he must have forgotten his past all together. Why should he remember? Why should he repeat the old story all over again to each of his numerous sons, informing them of some irrelevant, forgotten past?” The dark eyes narrowed, this time accompanied by a slight grin. “Your brothers seem to not take it badly, you know? In fact they couldn’t care less. They were living the regular lives of the Highlanders, and they’ll go on doing just that. While you,” The piercing gaze bore at him, difficult to stand, as though the man was looking into his soul. “You were different from the very beginning, I gather, sneaking around the Lowlands, gaping at the Texcoco altepetl, attracted to its majesty, striking up friendships with all sorts of people who are irrelevant to you. You did whatever you pleased, kid. And you will go on doing just that. I can see it. But don’t blame your father for this. His revelations would change nothing for you. You played with the idea of joining Acolhua forces or even going with me to Tenochtitlan for days now. Do you think I didn’t notice? Nothing changed, kid. Nothing at all. Only now, you have found an excuse to blame someone else for your frustrations. And as tempting as it may be, get it out of your head, boy. Your father has nothing to do with it.” The grin widened. “Go away and find your own path. But talk to your father before you go. I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to supply you with good weapons and good advice.”
“I have my own weapons,” muttered Kuini. “I have the obsidian sword now.”
“Oh, yes. That you have.” The Aztec smiled. “And I was impressed, I can tell you. You got your first sword through your first battle, and you used it well, all things considered. Quite a feat for a boy of your age.” The grin widened. “So just forget your frustrations and go and turn yourself into a warrior. But talk to your father first. Be brave enough to face him.”
“And what about you?” muttered Kuini.
“What about me?”
“Will you go back to Tenochtitlan?”
“Oh, yes. We are leaving tomorrow at dawn. It was a nice diversion, this vacation in the Highlands, but one must go back to his duties. Regretfully so.” The twinkle was back, sparkling out of the dark eyes, derisive, challenging. “If my Emperor decides to honor his obligations to the Tepanec Empire, I may be facing you on the battlefield. A dangerous prospect, with you and that sword of yours.”
Kuini stared at the man, perplexed. “You can’t be serious. The Aztecs would never do that to their allies.”
The Warlord shrugged. “Well, we won’t join that war in force,” he said, thoughtfully. “But some groups of our warriors may be found on those Texcoco shores, to keep Tezozomoc at peace. Nothing to warrant the presence of the Chief Warlord, so no need to worry. We won’t be fighting each other. Therefore, just keep yourself safe, and I’m sure we will meet again. I should like to meet you in a few years as a seasoned warrior.” He shook his head as if waking from a daydream. “Is it not a time for an evening meal? I am starving. The air in the Highlands makes one hungry.”
With a surprising agility for his years, the Warlord sprang to his feet. “Come to think of it, I should visit here more often, now that I know I won’t be sacrificed on your altars right away,” he said with a laugh, heading for the doorway. “Get yourself together, kid, before your family gathers here. Your brothers were quite anxious to make sure you were all right. Especially that broad-shouldered fellow, the older one. He would make a good elite warrior too.” Another merry chuckle. “I swear you, Highlanders, have huge potential.”
As the man’s wide back disappeared behind the doorway, Kuini let himself lean against the wall. Exhausted, he sat there, stomach rumbling, head empty of thoughts. This Aztec was all right, he reflected randomly. And he did make some sense. Well, the man made much sense, and he was brave and good at everything. He was all right for an Aztec. Or a Tepanec. Then the realization struck and he cursed aloud. The damn man was his uncle, curse his eyes into the lowest level of the Underworld.
Chapter 14
Posing upon the top of a hill, Coyotl watched the Great Lake, his breath caught. From his vantage point, he could see the distant shore swarming with warriors, and the muddy waters of the lake swarming with canoes. So many of those! Twenty times of twenty canoes and more. Twice as many warriors, if so. His eyes kept counting and recounting, unable to follow. He never thought the Tepanecs would come in such force.
He glanced at his warriors, who had followed him here. They stood there, peering down at the lake, their strained faces reflecting his feelings. Oh gods, he thought. Oh mighty Tezcatlipoca, please give our warriors strength. Please fortify their spirits. Please make us strong in spirits and firm in bodies, let us face the upcoming struggle with joy, let us kill many enemy warriors and sacrifice more of them for you to feed upon their life forces.
He shut his eyes. Please, help us win, he added quickly, knowing he should not ask any of the mighty gods for such a thing.
The Lowlanders were spread between the two nearby hills, presented in even greater numbers, he thought with satisfaction. Two days before, coming straight from the Great Capital, bringing along the reinforcements he had managed to gather on his mad dash through all the provinces, Coyotl was impressed. Almost a thousand warriors and auxiliaries. How could they lose with so many people? He alone had brought almost twenty times of twenty warriors from five provinces. Admittedly, it took him much longer than a market interval, more than two in fact, but what he did pleased the Emperor greatly. They would throw the Tepanecs back into the Great Lake, achieving an enormous victory, killing many and capturing more.
But now, looking at the colorful gathering down below, at the multitude of the foreign warriors wandering their shores as if already possessing them, the obsidian of their swords sparkling, their cloaks plain or brilliant-blue swirling, he felt a twinge of anxiety rising. Those Tepanecs lost very few battles, if any. They had ruled all the areas of both Valleys around the Great Lake for so many summers the elders could not remember when the land had not been dominated by
them.
Coyotl shook his head. Stop thinking about it! he ordered himself. You are not going into a battle, thinking how to lose it. You think only of the fighting itself, of the joy a good hand-to-hand provides, of the glorious victories, of the glorious death upon the battlefield, the paradise of the eastern sky there and waiting, beckoning.
“Let us go back to our people,” he said, turning to the warriors.
They followed sullenly, not yet accustomed to their duty as the Emperor’s heir's bodyguards. Coming straight from the Capital, they wanted to fight with their fellow Texcocans, Coyotl knew. Yet, he was responsible for the warriors of the provinces. Not to lead them, of course, but to organize, to keep everything in order until the battle would ensue.
He smiled to himself. He loved his new duties. Good at organizing things, he made his tour of the provinces run smoothly, bringing back many more men than expected. The pleased Emperor praised his First Son and made him responsible for those twenty times twenty of warriors, hinting that should he manage he would be entrusted with even greater responsibilities.
He made an effort to hide his smile. The Emperor, otherwise irritable and edgy, was pleased for a few heartbeats. What an achievement! He could see this sentiment reflecting in the faces of the advisers, and it made him want to laugh, nervously so. What was amiss this time, besides the Tepanecs swarming their shores? Still the very same Aztecs, he was quick to discover.
The filthy neighbors and so-called allies would not send a single warrior to fight the invaders. The delegation, sent two market intervals ago, came back just ahead of Coyotl. Bypassing the arrogant Aztec Warlord did not help. Huitzilihuitl was adamant. In so many flowery words and protestations of sympathy and good will, the Aztec Emperor said no. Tenochtitlan would not fight the Tepanecs. Tezozomoc was Huitzilihuitl’s father-in-law and Tenochtitlan had many obligations to Azcapotzalco. Both altepetls had had a long history of cooperation. As if Texcoco had no history with Tenochtitlan whatsoever. Oh, the filthy Aztecs!