Mihmatini shook her head. "There has to be something I can do, Acatl."
Was there? I couldn't be sure. "You know him better than anyone else," I said, slowly. "You'll think of something."
She took in a deep breath. "I guess." But she didn't sound convinced.
"I need your help," I said to Neutemoc.
Neutemoc raised an eyebrow. "That's… unexpected."
"I'm not finding this funny."
"Me neither." There was a flash of something in his eyes, as if he remembered for a moment that I was part of the reason his wife was dead, and his house deserted. "What do you want?"
"Nothing much," I said. "I need you to look into Eptli."
"Why? The man has been dead long enough, surely?"
"I don't know," I said. "I've got a gut feeling he wasn't picked at random." The first victim of the disease would have had a high symbolic weight, if nothing else – but something in the way he had been set up suggested personal rancour, and if it wasn't Chipahua, or the merchant Yayauhqui, or Xiloxoch, then I couldn't understand why anyone would hate him.
"I can ask," Neutemoc said. "But unless you can think of something more specific…"
"Anything that would have made him an enemy."
"Still rather broad." Neutemoc grinned with far too much amusement.
"Look, if I knew, I wouldn't be here. I don't think it's anything obvious, like people who couldn't stand him as a warrior. If it were, we'd have found out by now. It has to be something more insidious; some secret of his past we haven't found."
Neutemoc sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
Afterwards, I walked with Mihmatini in the courtyard, under the gaze of the white moon – Coyaulxauhqui, She of the Silver Bells, who was the Southern Hummingbird's sister and His bitterest enemy.
"He loves you," I said in the silence. "But–"
"But not enough to listen to me? I don't know if that's love." She sounded miserable. "He's doing a foolish thing."
"The gods come first." They always did – except my own god, who always came last. "The Mexica Empire comes first."
Mihmatini shivered. "He belongs to the Southern Hummingbird after all, doesn't he?"
I was silent, for a while. "You have to realise it's not only the Southern Hummingbird who drives the Mexica forward. The other gods feast on our offerings as well, and would crush anyone foolish enough to try and get in their way."
"But other people would make them just as well, wouldn't they? We're not the only ones worshipping Tlaloc the Storm Lord, or Xochiquetzal."
"No," I said. I stopped by the pine tree, ran a hand on its rough bark, breathing in the smell of crushed needles and dry wood.
"It's not fair."
"It's not about fairness. It's about balance first."
"And you believe that?"
"Yes." I had to – or what else could I cling to? "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. That's the problem, Acatl – I just don't know." Her face in the moonlight was gentle, and she seemed not so much the Guardian or a priestess, but just my sister, as bewildered as the day the dog had bitten her. "There has to be something…"
I didn't know what to say. I could have lied, and told her it would get better, but that would have been wrong.
She sighed, at length. "Never mind. Let's see what tomorrow will bring. Good night, brother."
"Good night."
I emerged from dark, deep dreams of the plague sweeping through Tenochtitlan – among which swum Acamapichtli's blind face, his hands questing for my own, never quite meeting them – and found myself in a sunlit room, with one of Neutemoc's slaves waiting by my sleeping mat. "Acatl-tzin, there is someone to see you."
"Someone?" I rolled over painfully – I no longer needed the cane to stand up, but I did still feel as though I'd been pummelled repeatedly. "I'll be outside in a moment."
Alone, I pulled myself upwards – reached out for my obsidian knife and offered up my blood to the Fifth Sun and Lord Death.
I didn't know who I had expected – Ichtaca with further news, perhaps, or the She-Snake, come to apprise me of yet another disaster. But the person waiting for me in the courtyard was Xiloxoch – her face painted the yellow of corn, her hair unbound like that of a young courtesan about to dance with warriors. "Acatltzin." She smiled, uncovering rows of black-stained teeth – unfortunately for her, so much seduction was wasted on me. I had once faced the goddess she worshipped, and compared to Her raw power, artifices were rather paltry.
"I hadn't expected to see you again."
She raised a thin, artful eyebrow. "Why not?"
"The She-Snake's guards are looking for you."
She had the grace to look amused. "Let them look. It's you I've come to see."
"To mock me? I'd have thought you'd played your part," I said.
"My part." She tossed her head back, in the familiar fashion of courtesans trying to appear coy. "And what do you think my part is exactly, Acatl-tzin?"
"False accusations. Sowing discord." When she said nothing, I added, "And attempting to steal sacrifices."
That got a smile, if nothing else. "Please. I wouldn't attempt to scrape corn from the belly of another god. The sacrifices were merely… irresistible."
Irresistible. The proximity of death; of godhood – and something else, something in the way she said it… What hadn't I seen? "Sex," I said, flatly.
"I prefer the term 'lust'," Xiloxoch said. She smiled again, stroking the pine tree as she'd hold a lover's arm. "My mistress takes power where She can."
Small, paltry offerings of semen and vaginal secretions – nowhere near full blood sacrifices, but perhaps enough to keep an exiled goddess satiated.
"I could call the guards," I said.
"Ah, but will you do such a thing, without even listening to me?"
"Perhaps I don't want to listen to you," I said. But my curiosity was too strong – even though I suspected she was going to feed me more lies. "Fine. What do you want?"
Xiloxoch tossed her head back. "Oh, Acatl-tzin. This isn't about what I want. This is about you."
"You have nothing I want."
"Do I not?" Her eyes were mocking – and for a moment, they reminded me of Xochiquetzal's burning gaze, of Her face in the moment She'd risen from her lowbacked chair to confront me, the embodiment of a force beyond human imagination or control. "Or perhaps I do. Perhaps it's time to make alliances, Acatl-tzin."
"Alliances." I dragged my voice back from where it seemed to have fled. "Alliances. I don't need help."
"You don't? I'm glad to know you have a good understanding of what's going on, then." Her lips quirked up. "Tell me you do, and I'll leave you alone."
And she knew very well that I wouldn't, the Duality curse her. "What are you offering?" And at what price?
"A little help," Xiloxoch said. "A little… destabilisation for certain parties."
"You speak in riddles."
"Of course." She smiled again. "Why should I make life easier for you?"
"Then why are you helping me at all?"
She smiled again; her blackened teeth seemed to have turned into the maw of a jaguar. "Because I don't particularly appreciate any of the sides taking part in this. Because as long as you're all weak, Xochiquetzal is strong."
And as long as she could lead us astray, she would. "You'll forgive me for not feeling particularly trusting."
"No matter." She leaned against the pine tree, looking at the sky. From the slaves' quarters came the rhythmic sound of maize being pounded into flour. "I'll give it to you regardless."
"At what price?"
"I told you. As long as everyone is busy…" She opened out her hand, revealing a bundle of cotton clothes. "I thought you might want to see this."
When I took it from her, I felt the weight of Chalchiuhtlicue's magic, a smell like brackish swamp water, or the bloated flesh of drowned men. Carefully, I unwrapped it, and found a torn feather quill, filled with powder, which looked for al
l the world like the one Palli had found on Eptli's body. Except that the powder was a different, richer colour, more dark orange than yellow: I'd have said cacao, except that it was not dark enough for that.
I wasn't crazy enough to rub it between my fingers. "Where did you get this?"
Xiloxoch pursed her lips, which were as red as chafed skin. "You'll remember I collected Zoquitl's possessions. This was among them."
"And we didn't see it."
She smiled, as if my scepticism was of little matter. "It was well hidden, and you didn't search the room that well."
I wasn't altogether sure I believed her, but then I couldn't see why she'd want to give this, and how she'd have filled it with Chalchiuhtlicue's magic. "You have the bravery of warriors about to die, then. The sickness–"
"Please. I have my own protections. In any case," she smiled again, an expression that was no doubt meant as seductive, but was starting to be decidedly unpleasant, "it's all yours. You'll know what to make of it."
Other than the fact that it had been the vector for the sickness, and slightly different from the one that had killed Eptli… no, I didn't. "Well, that was helpful. I certainly feel more knowledgeable."
"Make of it what you wish. I could tell you you're looking in the wrong place, but you already know that."
"Yes," I said. "Was that all you had to say? You're wasting my time, once again."
"Once again? Whenever did I waste your time, Acatl-tzin?"
"The bribe," I said. "It was all a fiction you devised to keep us running in the dark."
She smiled again, as radiant as the rising sun. "I sow chaos, Acatl-tzin. I do my goddess' will. You know all this. Does it matter if I lied to you?"
"It might make me slightly distrustful," I said, darkly.
"You're a disappointment. Too frank, that's your problem. I lie when it suits me, and tell the truth when it doesn't. And, right now, the truth is more convenient."
I'd had enough. "If you're just here to mock me, you might as well be gone."
She shrugged. "Fine. But remember what I've given you."
She was gone in a heartbeat, but, just as she'd intended, she'd sown the seeds of doubt.
TWENTY-ONE
Merchants and Warriors
After Xiloxoch was gone, I stared at the powder for a while, but try as I might I couldn't make anything of it.
"Up already?" Mihmatini's voice asked.
I sighed. "And already swamped with problems."
"As usual." Mihmatini settled on the rim of the well, watching me with bright eyes – her hair neatly brought up in two horn-shaped buns, the traditional style for married women. "The problems don't go away, you know. You might as well enjoy the quiet bits in the middle."
"You're one to talk," I said, sharply, looking at her.
Her face was dark – as taut as a rope about to snap. "Perhaps I'd like to be able to take my own advice." She stopped, her gaze dragged to the thing in my lap. "What in the Fifth World is that?"
"A parting gift," I said. "One of the vectors for the sickness." It might have been an elaborate lie from Xiloxoch, but then why give us two, one on Eptli's body, and one directly? The most likely explanation was that it really was the vector of the sickness.
"This?"
"Yes," I said, gloomily. "It's meant to be money from a symbolic standpoint, but what's inside is not gold. I can't figure out–"
My sister made a sound – I thought she was going to cry, but after a while I realised she was laughing. "Oh, Acatl. Sometimes, you're such an idiot."
"What?" I asked, looking at the cloth again – what had I missed.
"Men," Mihmatini snorted. "You're all the same. What was the last time you actually entered the slaves' quarters?"
"Fairly recently."
"For an investigation, right?" She wiped tears from her eyes. "Sometimes, I swear, you're useless."
"If you're finished with the mocking," I said, strongly suspecting I was going to end up looking like a fool again, no matter what I did – why could I never win anything against her? "What is so funny?"
"If you cooked at all, or dealt with food at all, you'd know what the powder is."
"I cook," I said, stiffly.
"Only when you can't find food at your temple or at the palace kitchen." Mihmatini shook her head, amused. "The powder is cacao pinolli – cacao powder mixed with maize flour."
"It's a drink."
"And a base for flatbreads, yes," Mihmatini said.
"Someone is killing people through food?" It made no sense. "Try this one," I said. I gave her a brief description of the other powder, the one Palli had found.
"A deeper yellow than maize flour?" Mihmatini asked. She puffed her cheeks. "It could be many, many things, and I can't be sure without having a look at it. But I think it's chia pinolli – chia seeds and maize flour."
"I detect a pattern," I said. Unfortunately, it was the kind that stubbornly refused to coalesce into anything coherent.
"Yes, me too, but why would anyone want to use those for propagating a sickness?"
"I don't know," I said. I rose, wrapping the broken quill into a piece of cloth, and tucking it into my belt. "If anything occurs, do tell me. I'll be at the palace." I needed to speak to Coatl again – and to see what I could get from either of them about the bribe.
In the corridors and courtyards, the bustle was worse than ever, and the crowd abuzz with the rumours of Tizoc-tzin's departure. Apparently, he'd left at dawn with a close circle of his faithful, leaving Quenami and the She-Snake in charge – a radical departure from tradition, and one that had tongues wagging from the military courts to the treasure halls.
When I reached Coatl's quarters, though, he wasn't there. According to the slaves, he'd left in the night and hadn't come back. "He's going with Tizoc-tzin?" I asked.
The slave shook his head. "Not that we know of. We have received no orders for the removal of his household."
Not knowing what else to do, I went to see the SheSnake, but he was busy with Quenami, and the line of supplicants and noblemen was already overflowing the courtyard of his quarters. I chatted, briefly, with one of his slaves, but it didn't look as though his guards had even started looking for Xiloxoch or Yayauhqui.
Coatl had left. No matter how I turned this around, I didn't like it. He'd said he hadn't taken the bribe, and he was honest, I was sure of that. But why leave at all, in such circumstances? He might have been frightened of the plague, but in this case he would have removed his whole household, not disappeared himself.
Why?
I walked out of the palace, preoccupied, back to my temple, where – to my surprise – I found Neutemoc and Mihmatini in discussion with Palli.
"What are you doing here?"
Neutemoc was dressed for war in the fur-suit of Jaguar Knights, with his helmet tucked under his arm and his macuahitl sword in his right hand. And Mihmatini wore her Guardian clothes; her slave Yaotl trailing behind her, holding a basket of fruit and flowers – offerings for calling on the power of the Duality.
"Mihmatini told me about the powders," Neutemoc said. "Why didn't you ask me?"
"You know about cooking?" I couldn't hide my surprise.
His lips quirked up, in that smile that wasn't a smile. "It's not about cooking." His voice took on the singsong cadences of sacred texts. "Forty baskets of cacao pinolli, and forty baskets of chia pinolly every eighty days, eight hundred mantles of cotton every eighty days, and eighty white and yellow cuextecatl costumes every year."
"It's a tribute list," Mihmatini said. "For Tlatelolco. For the last eight years they've been paying this every year."
"Tlatelolco?" The merchant, Yayauhqui.
"Yes. I asked about Eptli," Neutemoc said. "Other than what you told me, nothing much that was new. Except this: his father was a messenger, originally. He was the one who carried back the news that Moquihuix-tzin, the Revered Speaker of Tlatelolco, was plotting against the Mexica Empire. That's how he became a nobleman."
"Tlatelolco." I took in a deep breath. No wonder they'd wanted our fall, our failure in everything. "Let's go."
"Where?"
"To find and arrest someone, before it's too late."
Master of the House of Darts: Obsidian and Blood Book 3 Page 32