by Zoe Saadia
Texcoco Emperor fumed, but could not do anything to relieve his anger. Not yet. Maybe one day, but now he still needed to keep the Aztecs happy as, at least, Huitzilihuitl promised not to send his warriors to fight with the Tepanecs against Texcoco. He would send a small amount to keep Tezozomoc happy, but nothing more would be done. So the marriage proposal, to seal the ties between the two altepetls, proceeded as planned, accepted graciously.
Iztac-Ayotl! Coyotl shivered, remembering how he had rushed to her quarters, only to meet a firm refusal. She was not allowed to receive visitors. Not even the Emperor’s first son, the official heir, her half-brother. He tried to argue, but to no avail. She had a whole new set of maids, no doubt appointed by her mother, tough hags each and every one of them. From the circulating rumors he gathered that she had been caught again wandering the Plaza only a market interval ago. Well, that would explain the firmness of her imprisonment this time, he thought, heart twisting. Oh, she was incurable. Why would she do something like that?
He sighed, remembering that he had been lucky enough to say his farewells, after all. The next day, when he was leaving to take his freshly recruited forces, he had met her palanquin heading down the main alley. Palace’s guards and officials, Emperor’s wives and concubines, musicians and many people dressed in their best regalia, surrounded it, proceeding with great pomp. The First Daughter of the mighty Emperor was sent away, to be given to another Emperor in all the splendor her status ensured. Coyotl made his warriors wait and followed the procession, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of her.
His effort had paid off. Upon reaching the Plaza, the procession stopped. The music picked up, and the groups of dancers began their performance. He peered at the palanquin, wishing the curtain to move aside. Yet, when it did, he gaped, blinking, finding it difficult to see the imposing figure perching on the edge of the large litter, frozen like a marble statue.
Dismayed, he came closer, pushed his way through the crowds, oblivious to their grumbling. While the rest of those present watched the show, he stared at her, trying to make out the familiar features under the huge headdress made of exquisite feathers and sparkling jewelry. She looked ill, small and pale, below the colorful magnificence. Her hands lay lifeless in her lap as if they were difficult to move under the weight of so much jewelry, her thin arms burdened by sparkling bracelets, her slender fingers overloaded with rings. She was sparkling like a golden statue, but her real sparkle was gone.
He came closer, pushing her maids aside firmly. They tried to block his way, but he glared at them, grateful that the Second Wife’s attention was distracted by the performers.
“Iztac,” he called softly, uncomfortable with looking at her from below.
She turned her head slowly, with an effort, as if afraid to make a sharp movement. Thinner than he remembered, her face looked at him, drawn and pinched, lacking in color, lacking in expression. The dark eyes watched him, empty and indifferent, reflecting no emotion. The generous mouth did not move.
“Iztac, it’s me,” he said, at a loss, not sure if she recognized him at all. “Sister, how are you?”
The corner of her mouth moved slightly. “I’m all right.”
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it back sooner.” Unable to stand the stare of those black empty eyes, he bit his lower lip. “Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
“You look beautiful,” he labored on, trying to break through this ghastly indifference. “You are the center of this event. The next Empress of Tenochtitlan. No more meaningless princess.”
Something flickered in the dark gaze, but he could not be sure what as she turned her head away quickly.
“Please, Iztac,” he pleaded, wishing they could be alone, even for a few heartbeats. “Please, say something. Don’t go away like that.”
She looked down as much as her imposing headdress would allow her, watching her bejeweled palms, lifeless in her lap. “I wish you a happy life,” she whispered. “Keep yourself safe in the battle. Don’t let anything happen to you.”
He swallowed to banish the knot forming in his throat. “I will,” he said. “We will beat those Tepanecs, and then, I’ll come to Tenochtitlan. You’ll show me all around this famous island-city, all right?”
She didn’t answer, staring at her palms, again motionless like a statue. Her, of all people. His heart squeezed, making it difficult to breathe.
“I have to go now,” he said, when able to speak. “But I will visit you, I promise. Please, don’t be so sad. It will be all right, you’ll see. I’ll make sure you are all right. You can trust me.”
She didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but the bracelets encircling her arms rang softly as her shoulders shook. He reached for her palm, squeezed the cold slender fingers. “Please, sister, cheer up. I will come to Tenochtitlan as soon as I can.”
He began easing away.
“Coyotl!” He turned back sharply, bumping into one of her maids.
Her eyes were back upon him, black and glittering, not empty anymore. “If you see your Highlander again, tell him that a market interval is five to six days. Not half a moon. He was learning so fast, but that one he got wrong, so badly wrong.”
Her lips quivered as she turned away. One slender palm shot up, pulled the curtain hurriedly. He noticed it was trembling too.
What market interval? he wondered, his sadness welling. The thrill of the flutes hit his ears, suddenly ugly, annoying in its insistence. What were they all so excited about? The Aztecs would not help them; the filthy bastards agreed not to betray their Texcoco allies, nothing more. She was sacrificed for nothing.
***
Dusk was nearing when Coyotl came out of the Emperor’s tent, having spent a whole afternoon listening to the warrior’s leaders and advisers. His head pounded, and his stomach churned, although, it was full, replete with refreshments served to the Emperor’s entourage aplenty.
Tomorrow with dawn they would attack, he thought, heart beating fast. Tomorrow they would engage in a great battle against the mighty Tepanecs. Oh gods, let us win, he thought fervently. Let us throw the greedy Tepanecs back into the Great Lake. Let us defend Texcoco against the ruthless, insatiable enemy.
A servant sprang onto his path, startling him.
“What do you want?” asked Coyotl angrily.
“Oh, Honorable Master, I’m so sorry for startling you.”
“You didn’t startle me. What do you want?”
The man hesitated. “I am to give you this.” A broad hand came out, offering Coyotl a folded piece of bark-paper.
His heart lifted. Fighting his impatience, he unfolded the sheet carefully, unhurriedly. In the remnants of the daylight the picture looked beautiful, vivid with its strong coloring, showing a warrior with an obsidian sword, standing proudly, watching a brownish spot that looked like a depiction of the lake on the maps. He eyed the warrior’s sword, magnificent, wonderfully detailed, its obsidian spikes almost sparkling, as black as the moonless night.
“Where is the youth who gave you this?” He found it difficult to control his voice.
“Over there, Honorable Master,” said the slave, pointing toward the hill Coyotl had ascended earlier in the day to watch the Tepanecs.
“Take me there!”
The path curved upward, passing another vantage point, then turning deeper into the woods. He sent the man away, then made his way hurriedly, his grin widening with every step.
“Oh, that was fast!”
The Highlander stood upon the edge of the cliff, outlined against the darkening sky, as always, oblivious to the height and the possibility of a long free-fall behind his back. Legs wide apart, arms folded, he watched Coyotl, eyes sparkling, his usual amused, slightly challenging self.
Yet, something was different. Whether it was the new scar upon the wide forehead, or the way the broad chest seemed to fill, his friend had changed, reflected Coyotl. He took in the wide, proudly straightened shoulders, the new, self-assured spark
le in the well spaced eyes.
“What happened to you, you crazy adventurer?” he called, nearing. He stared at the sword, tied to a new, decorated girdle. “It can’t be!”
“Oh, yes it can.” Kuini’s laughter rolled down the hill.
“How?”
“That story is too long to tell it all now. But to make it short, here I am, ready to serve you with my sword, oh Honorable First Son.”
“Oh, shut up. You are impossible. What happened?”
Kuini laughed again. “So many crazy things you would never believe a half of them, if I told you.” He came closer, put an arm on Coyotl’s shoulder. “But the main thing is that I came to fight with you. No more silly thoughts and no more misgivings. We’ll fight together. I trust you to find the way to smuggle me into your forces safely, with no filthy warriors dragging me into filthy courts.”
Coyotl wanted to whoop with joy. “The easiest thing!” He clasped his friend’s arm. “Oh, it will be such tremendous fun!”
“You have no idea.”
They turned to watch the Great Lake, spreading far below their feet, still covered with busily moving warriors, ant-sized from such a height, and as purposeful.
Kuini shook his head. “Quite a sight.”
“Oh, yes. I watched them the whole afternoon as they ran down there, so busy, like stupid ants. I can’t wait to fight the bastards!”
“They are so many. I've never seen that many warriors before. I mean, one’s head spins trying to count them.”
“Easy. Twenty times twenty of canoes. Two, three warriors per canoe. It comes to, well, a lot.”
“And your people?”
“Much more than that!” exclaimed Coyotl proudly. “The provinces yielded more than expected.” He glanced at his friend. “Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worrying.”
Coyotl squatted upon the dry grass. “So, how was it with the Aztecs?”
“Insane. Unbelievable. Impossible.”
“I told you, you should have come with me.”
“It’s not like I had much choice, with them bolting for the back gates in the darkest of the night.” Kuini dropped beside him, making himself comfortable, half laying upon the damp earth.
“So they did go through the gates. The back gates?”
“Yes, the small gate behind the pond.”
“Oh, then the Chief Warlord was right. You should have seen the Emperor, blue with rage and the Chief Warlord shaking on the floor.”
“I’ve seen enough of the Palace guards blue with rage, mostly with me,” Kuini chuckled. “I don’t want to see the Emperor, whatever color he takes when angry.”
Coyotl laughed, then shook his head. “No, I suppose you are right. You don’t need to be anywhere near the Emperor.” He thought about the Aztecs sneaking away in the dead of the night. “But there should have been warriors guarding the gates, I would think. There were guards out there, weren’t there?”
“Yes, sure, there were a few. For a while, at least.”
“Oh, what a dirty manure-eater!” Surprised by the suddenness of his anger, Coyotl looked away. That Chief Aztec Warlord was beyond any words. “So, what happened next?”
“Oh, lots of things. But the Aztec Warlord did make it to Tenochtitlan, eventually. I know you would rather he did not, but I have to tell you that. I came to like that man. So careful with your tongue when I’m around and we are on that subject.”
Coyotl raised his brows, but his elation refused to give way to anger. “Oh, you get your sword and now you are presuming to tell me what to talk about?” He poked his elbow into his friend’s ribs. “So how did you get away?”
“Easily.” Kuini flashed one of his rare, unguarded smiles. “I’ll tell it all to you one day, after this battle is over and we are feasting on some of those wonderful tamales and drinking octli like real warriors.” He rolled onto his back and watched the sky, smiling contentedly. “There is another thing,” he said quietly. “And I’ll need your help with that.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing special.” The Highlander stretched, but there was a tension in his movements now. “It can wait until after the battle. Until we are back in that pretty altepetl of yours.”
Coyotl shut his eyes, pitting his face against the slight breeze coming from the lake. “We won’t be back in a hurry,” he said, enjoying the rare peacefulness. “If we beat those Tepanecs…” he paused. “When we beat those Tepanecs off, Father is planning to invade the other side of the Great Lake. So we are in for a long campaign.”
“Oh,” There was a note of disappointment to his friend’s voice now.
“What’s wrong?”
“No, nothing. Nothing at all.” More sky observing. “Do you think it’s wise, to tempt the beast like that?”
“What beast?”
“The Tepanecs. You have to fight them now, I understand that. But to cross into their lands would be kind of pushing it, no? They are quite an empire and, well, won’t they get angry for real?”
“We have more people!” said Coyotl hotly. “And we are angrier now than they could ever get. We’ll take many of their altepetls, and we’ll lay siege to Azcapotzalco. You’ll see.” He glared at his friend, but his glare was quite wasted as the Highlander still lay on his back, gaze wandering the skies. “You will see.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I will. But I do wish you luck with the crossing.”
Coyotl straightened up. “Won’t you be coming with us? What a coward.”
“Shut up,” growled Kuini, refusing to take the offense. “I would love to, but I have some things to do. Something to settle at home.”
“What? Did you come here to fight with us without your father’s consent?” He chuckled. “The delegation from the Highlands returned a few days ago, and quite pissed they were. The Chief Warlord was near to exploding. He is sure to piss boiling water for some time.”
“No, nothing to do with my father. Or the problems of the Texcoco Warlord to relieve himself.” Kuini was silent for a long time. “I need your help with something.”
“What?”
“I passed through your altepetl this morning. That’s how I found out where you were. And I need to ask you for a favor. But I want you to promise you won’t get angry with me asking you that.”
“Ask away.”
“Would you deliver a note to that girl? The princess. That sister of yours.” More silence. “I promised her and, well, I can’t send her notes if I don’t get into the Palace. And it didn’t seem possible this morning.”
Coyotl swallowed, remembering the last time he had seen Iztac, with her heart-shaped face so taut, so lifeless under all the splendor of her elevated status. Unable to speak, he watched Kuini sitting up abruptly.
“Are you angry with me because of that?”
Coyotl just shook his head. “You can’t send her notes anymore. She is not in the Palace.”
“What?” The dark eyes stared at him, filling with fear. “Where is she? Don’t tell me…” The wide shoulders sagged of a sudden. “Tenochtitlan?”
“Yes.”
The broad face peering at him lost some color, became haunted, then turned away. He could hear a few convulsive breaths drawn through the clenched teeth.
“How damn stupid.” The mutter was hardly audible. He could not recognize his friend’s voice, so low and contorted it was.
“There was nothing we could do,” said Coyotl helplessly. “There was no way to prevent that.”
“Maybe there was.”
“No, there was not. And anyway, why do you care?”
The dark gaze leaped at him, in control once again. “I don’t.”
“You liked her, didn’t you?”
A shrug.
“Neither of us could do anything.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Actually, she did ask me to tell you something.”
A flicker of fear passed through the large eyes, this time unmistakably. “What?”
>
“Well, it’s something strange that didn’t make any sense. Something about market intervals.”
Kuini leaned forward so abruptly, Coyotl felt like backing away. “What? What did she say about the market interval?”
“Something silly. She asked me to tell you that a market interval is six days, not half a moon. She seemed upset with the fact that you didn’t get it. She said you were learning other things fast, but not that one.” He shrugged. “She was not really herself through the ceremony, so I suppose it’s only natural that she didn’t make much sense with this statement.” He peered at his friend. “Don’t you know what market interval means?”
“Yes, I do know that now,” said Kuini through his clenched teeth, voice still strained, trembling a little.
Abruptly, he turned away, hugging his knees, peering at the lake. Coyotl watched the Tepanecs too. The air seemed suddenly diluted, empty. He glanced at his friend, seeing the tight jaw, the clasped lips, the white knuckles of the clenched fists.
“I’m sorry,” he said once again, his compassion welling. Whatever happened, the Highlander seemed to take it even worse than he took it himself. Was he in love with her? Probably. He could not blame his friend for feeling that way. Was she not his sister he, Coyotl, would be in love with her too, he realized. But it was all for the best. There could be nothing between the exalted Acolhua princess and the commoner boy from the Highlands. She might have been nice to him, but she would never allow him to as much as to touch the rim of her gown. Coyotl shrugged. His friend was better off without such infatuation.
“I guess we should get moving back to the camp,” he said, getting to his feet. “So, let us rehearse our story. You are the young warrior from the provinces I picked on my way. Say from Acolma. Or Coatlinchan. Which one?”