Beneath us was a flight of stairs going down into the darkness. A stone chest with its lid flipped open held torches, and a single flame was lit at the entrance. We both took a torch and set it aflame before going down.
It was damp, and dark, and unpleasantly cool. The deeper we went, the more the magic tightened around us – as if a snake, once pleasantly settled around the shoulders, had suddenly decided to constrict. Our breaths rattled in our chests until each inhalation burnt, and each exhalation seemed to leech heat from our bodies and from our hearts. Even Teomitl's light from his protective spell grew weaker and weaker; I could see him slowing down before I, too, adapted my step to his. Together, we moved through the growing thickness, moment after agonising moment.
We passed many platforms on our way. The Great Temple had been rebuilt several times, each incarnation grander and more imposing than the last, wrapping its limestone structure around the shells of all its predecessors. Altars shone in the darkness, faint smudges on them, the memories of previous sacrifices.
At last we reached the bottom of the stairs, the foundation of the Great Temple, and entered a wide chamber, its walls so covered with carvings that the eye barely had time to settle on one figure before another caught its attention.
At regular intervals lines had been carved into the stone, slight depressions linking the floor to the top of the temple, channelling the blood of sacrifices all the way down to pool on the floor. It reeked like a slaughter yard – even worse than an ordinary shrine, for there was almost no way for the air to escape such a confined space.
The floor itself was a huge painted disk, three times as large as the calendar stone that hung in the shrine above. It lay on the floor – in fact, it was the floor, for it filled most of the room from wall to wall, with only a little space for an altar at the further end. The carvings on it were almost too huge to be deciphered. I could see bits and pieces of them; an arm bent backwards, a severed foot, a gigantic head with a band and rattles, separated from the dismembered torso. There was a feeling of movement, as if all the pieces were still tumbling down from the original sacrifice. Blood coated everything, its power pulsating in the air above the disk like a heat wave.
I knelt by the disk, and carefully extended a hand to touch the
edge. There was a slight sound, like the tinkle of silver bells, and I felt the stone warm under my finger, the only warmth in the room, beating like a human heart, pulsating with Her anger and murderous rage, an urge to water the earth with my lifeblood, to tear me from limb to limb and inhale my dying breath, to scatter my essence within Herself until nothing remained…
"Acatl-tzin?"
With difficulty I tore myself from the stone and looked up at Teomitl. "She's still sealed here," I said. Otherwise I wouldn't just be remembering Her rage, I would be dead. The wards still held. The blood magic, renewed with the daily sacrifices of prisoners, was still as strong as ever.
I'd have breathed more easily, had the atmosphere of the room allowed it.
"You're sure," Teomitl said. "It's…" He knelt in turn, though he was careful never to touch the stone. "If She were to break free…"
Then She would regain the control of the star-demons, the creatures She had made in the distant past. She would stride forth as in the days before the Mexica Empire, hungry for blood and human hearts, eager to erase from the Fifth World all memory of Her brother's chosen people.
All gods were vicious and capricious, but Coyolxauhqui – She of the Silver Bells, who had once been goddess of the Moon – was the worst. The others could be cajoled with the proper offerings, bribed into protecting us; we were weak and amusing, but it was our blood that kept the sun in the sky, and our blood that kept Them satiated and powerful. Coyolxauhqui – She was war and fire and blood, and She would not rest until the Fifth Sun tumbled from the sky, and darkness covered Grandmother Earth from end to end, as in the very beginning.
"I know," I said. "But She's not free." Not yet. It was not only the blood of sacrifices that kept She of the Silver Bells imprisoned, but also the Revered Speaker, the living embodiment in the Fifth World of Southern Hummingbird's power.
And, at present, we had no Revered Speaker.
"Come on. Let's go back up," I said.
The return journey was much easier, as we climbed the weight lifted from our shoulders, and the constriction in our chests and necks gradually eased. The air grew warm again, and we emerged under the grey sky before dawn feeling almost refreshed.
Unfortunately, that feeling of relaxation lasted for perhaps a fraction of a moment. "Acatl," a familiar, imperious voice said. "I had a feeling you might be the one getting past the wards."
Of course. I turned and beheld Ceyaxochitl, the Guardian of the Empire, the keeper of the magical boundaries, resplendent under her feather headdress. She leant on a cane of red polished wood that had to have come from the far south, deep into Maya land.
She did not look sarcastic, for once, but by the gleam in her eyes I knew I was in for trouble.
"Star-demons," Ceyaxochitl said, thoughtfully. She had dragged us back to the Duality House, where slaves brought us bowls of cocoa and a light meal of fried newts and amaranth seeds. We sat around a reed mat in a small room at the back of the House, which opened onto one of the more private courtyards, a garden of marigolds and small palm trees. It was silent and deserted even at this hour of the morning, when every slave should have been out grinding the maize flour for today's meals.
As was her wont, Ceyaxochitl did not sit down. she remained standing, towering over us. The slaves finished laying out the meal on the mat, and withdrew, drawing the entrancecurtain closed in a tinkle of bells.
"Star-demons are to be expected," I said. But it was much too soon for them.
"Yes, yes," Ceyaxochitl said. "However, strictly speaking, the heart of the Great Temple is the province of Southern Hummingbird's High Priest, Acatl. Not yours."
"It doesn't seem like Quenami is over-preoccupied with stardemons," I said, with a touch of anger.
Ceyaxochitl sighed. "These are difficult times, Acatl. Fraught with intrigue."
"I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it," I said. Especially not when it risked supernatural creatures in the palace, or in the streets of the city.
"You never did," Teomitl said, with some amusement.
I threw him a warning glance. He might be making progress with the magic of living blood, but we were going to have to work on the respect side of things. "Apart from the impressive costume, you don't look very involved in the succession either."
Teomitl didn't react to the jibe. "I'm not in a position to influence that, so I just keep my head down."
"You're Tizoc-tzin's brother," I said. "Master of the House of Darts, if all goes his way." Though I still couldn't quite reconcile myself to the idea of Tizoc-tzin's ascension.
"Perhaps." Teomitl fingered the jade beads around his wrist – an unusual evasion for him, who always spoke his mind without worrying about the consequences.
Ceyaxochitl banged her cane on the ground. "Let's keep to the original subject, please."
I winced. Our relationship had always been rocky and had not improved much in the past year. When Ceyaxochitl set about to helping you, she would do what she judged best for you, whether you agreed or not. Needless to say, I seldom shared her point of view.
"What more do you want?" I asked. "Someone summoned a star-demon and tore a councillor to death in a heavily warded place. I had to make sure that it didn't come from She of the Silver Bells."
Ceyaxochitl nodded, but it took her some time. "A good idea. But still–"
"Look," I said, determined to put an end to that particular matter. "I know it's the province of the other two High Priests. Right now, they're too busy trying to influence who will become Revered Speaker, or over-confident. I'd rather do it on my own than have the star-demons loose around us. You know that we're wide open now, vulnerable to pretty much anything. People will want to take advant
age of that."
"I suppose," Ceyaxochitl said. She did not look overly happy. "Still, I have other things to do."
As Guardian of the Mexica Empire, she was the agent of the Duality, the source and the arbiter of the gods. Her work was to protect the life of the Revered Speaker and, when that life was ended, to set wards around the Empire in order to keep the star-demons and the monsters of the underworld at bay.
"Then, if you're busy, just leave me in peace," I said.
"Not so fast, Acatl." She banged her cane on the ground again. "You must know where this is going."
I raised an eyebrow. "If it's not She of the Silver Bells, then it's a sorcerer, determined to sow chaos among us. The first of many. It's not the grievances that lack." The Mexica Empire was made of subjugated populations from whom we demanded regular, sometimes exorbitant, tribute; and foreigners were many in Tenochtitlan, though most would be slaves or under some form of indenture.
It could also be someone trying to influence the succession by other means. But still, you'd have to be mad to do it by decimating the council, not when there were so many other means of influencing it.
"And how do you plan to find such a sorcerer?" Ceyaxochitl asked, shaking her head.
As usual, she called my competences into question. "I am not without resources. Magic, especially magic that powerful, will leave a trail."
"Yes, yes," Ceyaxochitl said, shaking her head as if I were still a wayward child. "You need help, Acatl."
"I have my order."
The corner of her lips curled up in a smile. "You do. But I was thinking of more massive resources."
Over the course of the night, I had faced two High Priests and a vice-emperor, our most powerful god, and His imprisoned sister – not to mention that my last hour of sleep had been in the evening. I didn't have the patience to play along with her games of dominance any more. "Are you offering your help?"
"Of course. In recognition for past wrongs." She turned, and glanced through the entrance-curtain. The grey light was subtly changing colour, sunrise was not far away.
"Past wrongs?" A year ago, Ceyaxochitl had embroiled me in yet another set of intrigues, involving one of my brothers. She had not seen fit, though, to provide me with all the information at her disposal, or with more than a token assistance. The resulting conflagration had almost levelled Tenochtitlan; it had cost the life of my sister-in-law, and had tarred my family's reputation so thoroughly we were going to require years to even start our rehabilitation. "You'll excuse me if I'm not entirely ready to believe you're offering only out of remorse."
Her lips curled up again. "As I said before, you may not think it, but I always do things for your own good, Acatl."
And that was the problem. "Of course," I said. But I could ill afford to refuse her. "What did you have in mind?"
Ceyaxochitl had the grace not to look triumphant. "We'll keep a watch on the situation at the Imperial Court."
"You have information?"
"A little," Ceyaxochitl said. "I can tell you of the factions I know at court. Tizoc-tzin, the She-Snake, several of the princes, and the other rulers of the Triple Alliance, of course."
"Of course." Our brothers, our co-rulers in the Mexica Empire, dreaming, no doubt, of the day when they headed the Triple Alliance instead of being subservient to it. "They'll have sent runners to them."
Teomitl looked up from his bowl of cocoa. "It was done before you arrived, Acatl-tzin."
A blare of conch-shells and wooden drums cut us off. The Fifth Sun had risen outside. There was a pause, during which we all scratched our earlobes and spilled blood to honour His return, to pray for His continued existence and protection, even though Axayacatl-tzin's death had severed him from the Fifth World.
"In the place of light
You give life, You hide Yourself
Mirror which illuminates things
Follower of the Heaven's Path
Mirror which illuminates things…"
When it was over, Ceyaxochitl came back to the original discussion as if nothing in particular had happened – and, for her, perhaps it was the case. The Duality had no favourites. "The other two Revered Speakers of the Triple Alliance will be here in one, two days. The other rulers might take slightly longer, but then they don't have a vote in who wears the Turquoiseand-Gold Crown."
"But they still might be behind this, or give it their support."
"It's still only one isolated incident," Ceyaxochitl said carefully.
"Yes," I said. "It might be personal. It might be isolated. But the odds are that it won't remain so for long. Other people will emulate it. The usual barriers against summonings are weak, and everyone will know that." The emptiness in the fabric of the Fifth World was still there, an itch at the back of our minds – a hole that would only be filled by a new Revered Speaker.
Teomitl spoke in the silence with the voice of one used to command. "We must show our strength. And fast."
I thought of She of the Silver Bells, of Her hunger, of Her rage that we still dared to be alive, to imprison Her anew with every sacrifice, every drop of blood we shed in honour of Her brother Huitzilpochtli.
We had to show our strength, or we would be broken without recourse.
THREE
The Threat From Within
We walked out of the Duality House into a beautiful morning, the sun overhead already warming our limbs. It was the dry season, a time when we should have been preparing for war, but the death of the Revered Speaker had slightly postponed the preparations. The next war we launched would be the Coronation War, when the new ruler would prove his valour on the battlefield.
The Sacred Precinct, like most of its priests, awoke early. Because of Axayacatl-tzin's death, the plaza was already crowded. Novice priests scurried on errands to the marketplace. Some had already come back, carrying cages with offerings ranging from rabbits to monkeys. Nearby a fire priest and two offering priests led a chalk-painted sacrifice victim to the altar. The man walked with casual arrogance, proud of being selected for a glorious death, eager to rejoin the Fifth Sun's Heaven.
"I'll see you home," Teomitl said.
"I don't need–"
He smiled, in familiar, dazzling arrogance. The sunlight caught the gold on his wrists and around his neck, and mingled the blinding reflections with the radiance of his magical protection. In that moment, he did indeed look imperial, as if some of his brother's glory had rubbed off on him, some radiance passed between them. "We have star-demons among us."
"Just one so far." I hoped fervently there wouldn't be more.
Teomitl spread his hands. "You walk like a dead soul, Acatltzin. If anything happened…"
"I seem to remember you're the student, and I the teacher," I said, somewhat acidly.
Teomitl's smile was wide and innocent. "Isn't that proper respect? Attending to your master's needs?"
And I was the Consort of the Emperor. "Walk with me if you want. But for company, not for protection." Or, Duality forbid, for mothering me.
"As you wish." Teomitl fell in step by my side. People turned as we passed. I was still in full regalia, and the refined costume Teomitl wore could only have come from the Court.
"So," I asked. "How is Mihmatini?"
Teomitl had met my younger sister a year ago, and had been immediately attracted to her, and she likewise. I had grudgingly given my approval to the relationship, suspecting all the while that it would go nowhere. An imperial prince was not free to marry as he chose. Teomitl's principal wife would likely come from one of the neighbouring cities, as a token of goodwill and good conduct.
But, to my surprise, it still seemed to be holding, a year on, despite Mihmatini's acid tongue and Teomitl's carefree manners.
However, when I asked that question, Teomitl grimaced.
"Trouble under Heaven?" I asked.
He waved a hand, airily. "Nothing that need concern you, Acatl-tzin. Your sister is as lovely as ever."
And she'd likely tear
his head off if he attempted flattery like that. "Teomitl."
His gaze met mine, defiant. "I will soon be Master of the House of Darts, member of the inner council. No one can tell me what to do."
My heart contracted. I couldn't help it. Reason told me that, of course, someone would step in, someone would want to bring the wayward prince back into the norms, but still… Still, whenever she thought of him, Mihmatini's whole demeanour would soften, and her face shine like marigolds in the gloom. Teomitl would make excuses to leave our magic lessons early, so he could casually drop by the house and see her, even if it was with a chaperone. "Someone doesn't agree," I said.
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