Cortes snapped his fingers and I responded to my cue, retrieving a document that had been sealed by Governor Velazquez of Hispaniola. It was an entreaty to begin trade between our two peoples and had since been rescinded due to some disagreement between Cortes and the governor. Of course, Moctezuma could have no way of knowing that. I gave it to a guard who took it to the Emperor.
“Trade, culture, and ideas, Your Majesty,” said Cortes. Hearing that phrase from his mouth sent a shiver up my spine. “Who knows what could happen if we opened relations between our two nations?”
The Emperor broke the seal with his thumb and unrolled the document. He frowned. “You send me a trade agreement in a language I cannot read?”
“Language is a barrier between our two cultures that will soon fall,” said Cortes, waving away the problem like it was a biting insect.
Moctezuma passed the document over his shoulder to Canez. The High Priest, in turn, gave it to a subordinate who had peeled away from the wall for just that purpose. The Emperor held his hand out a moment longer, and in it was placed a silver dagger.
Cortes didn’t blink, but that in itself betrayed his emotions. Several of his men tensed up, but they were experienced enough that none of them went for their weapons.
Moctezuma smiled as he gauged their reactions. “You know what I believe, Hernan Cortes?” He flipped the blade around, grasped its hilt, and then dug at the armrest of his throne. He peeled away a sliver of gold leaf and then cast it onto the floor in front of Cortes. “I believe that you are after this. Gold. Is that true? Are you offering to pay for it with ‘ideas and culture’?”
“They are far better currency than iron and gunpowder. Which I also possess,” responded Cortes dangerously.
The Emperor let his frown dissolve into a disarming smile. “I think that’s enough talk for one meeting. I look forward to discussing your treaty, once my people have translated it. For now, can I suggest that we adjourn to dinner? I assure you that Aztec food far outshines the rations you have been enjoying on your journey.”
Cortes relaxed visibly and his men took their cue from their leader. We adjourned in relatively good spirits, despite the almost-confrontation with Moctezuma, but instead of accompanying the Spaniards to the feast the Emperor had prepared, I peeled away and made for the docks.
Tenochtitlan was truly a huge city and I had to ask for directions several times before I got there. I had expected the citizenry to be more wary of a Spaniard, but the Aztec capital was cosmopolitan enough that they were used to dealing with foreigners and did their best to guide me to the right location.
The docks at “Old Houses” turned out to be the main docks of the entire city, and were busy even at this late hour. I navigated the maze of watercraft uncertainly. The wharfs were full of crates and littered with gangplanks. At last I gave up and simply followed my senses. They led me down a nearly forgotten wharf that was home to smaller skiffs. Most had been patched many times and some were half-full of rainwater and listing dangerously.
Inez was fixing the rigging on a single-sailed skiff when I arrived, and invited me on board.
“I’ve heard it said that it is dangerous to sail at night,” I said. The sun had set over an hour ago, but few boats carried lanterns.
“You are destined for greater things than a drowning in Lake Texcoco, Lugh,” she said with a smile. With that she pushed off and then quickly grabbed the tiller. I felt a bit silly sitting idle, so she gave me the mainsheet and showed me how to pull the sails tight to capture the wind. We sailed for perhaps an hour as twilight deepened, until the only light was that of the stars above.
“I think that’s far enough,” she said.
I looked around. “Where’s the anchor?”
“We can float.”
A nervous silence fell between us that neither of us dared to break. It was dark enough that I felt more than saw her sitting in the stern of the boat. I imagined that she had shut her eyes and was simply enjoying the night. “Why are we here?” I asked at last. It felt crude and barbaric to break the silence, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me.
“You never answered my question about why you serve Wetiko,” she said.
I considered my answer carefully. “Because he gets results. I have been searching for Penarddun for seven thousand years now and I am no closer to Him than I was on the first day. I believe that makes me the least effective creature in existence. Perhaps I can learn a thing or two from my enemy.”
“Do you truly not believe that you have affected change?”
“Have I?”
A fish leaped nearby and splashed back into the water. We both looked at the sound. “Did you see that fish, Lugh?”
I nodded.
“Imagine that the people of Brodgar’s Ness are represented by that fish. Swimming alone, in the dark. The waters are cool and frigid, but because of you, they are able to swim on.”
I sighed, but she motioned for me to close my eyes, so I indulged her.
“How many people lived in that village? Five hundred?”
It was closer to five thousand, but I nodded.
“Now imagine the people you saved from Baryoom.” Many fish jumped at once. Their silver scales flashed in the starlight and when they returned to the lake it sounded like rain. “That was quite of lot of fish, wasn’t it?” she asked.
I nodded. Egypt was a far larger country than Brodgar’s Ness.
“Now imagine...” Inez said as she got to her feet. A red glow ignited between the fingertips of both hands. “... the descendants of all those people you saved.”
Lightning lit up the cloudless sky and thunder boomed a moment later. I felt something huge stir in the lake, as if hundreds of tonnes of biomass moved at once. Then the surface of the lake erupted. Fish of every size and description leapt into the air at once. Their scales flashed silver but also other colours: reds, blues, yellows. The sound they made when they hit the water was louder than the crash of thunder that had sounded a moment before and our small craft was lifted several feet into the air by an enormous wave. It was perhaps the most awe-inspiring sight I have seen since the explosion that wiped out the dinosaurs.
“That is the difference you made, Lugh,” said Inez, lowering her arms. The red glow fizzled and went out. We were left in darkness. In the distance I could hear shouts of alarm across the water. It was lucky that the fish hadn’t landed at all once, or the resulting wave would have been large enough to cause real damage to the city. Perhaps the Mother had planned it that way. “If Cortes has his way,” she continued, “many of these fish will die.”
I stared at the surface of the lake. It was dark and glassy and showed no sign of the miracle that had been performed only moments ago. I was still stunned. I had saved all those people without my mask, without the full extent of my power. Perhaps I could trick Cortes into retreating as I had once tricked Baryoom and Hox the Younger. “What do you need me to do?”
As we sailed back to the city, she told me of a meeting that would take place between Cortes and Moctezuma in twenty days. At that meeting, she said, Cortes would attempt to kill the Aztec Emperor. All that I needed to do to avert disaster was to make sure Moctezuma survived.
As I walked back through the streets, I thought of ways I might accomplish that. It seemed far too easy. I’d defeated Baryoom with only minutes of preparation and he had perceived me as an enemy. Cortes thought of me as a friend, and I had weeks to plot against him. Ironically, those weeks weighed on me. With so much time to accomplish so little, I wondered what else I might do. I wondered if I couldn’t avert that fateful meeting entirely.
I was so distracted by my thoughts that I took a wrong turn or several and became lost. I wonder now if some other force diverted me – perhaps even Wetiko Himself. In any case, I found myself outside the temple of Huehuecoyotl.
It was a large stone building, like many of the other temples in the district. The door was framed by two silver vases encrusted with amber and onyx jew
els. Each vase held a bouquet of green feathers, and a stone bust of a coyote stared down at me from above the entrance. I heard the beating of drums inside, interspersed with pipes and other wind instruments that I could not identify.
Habit drove me through those doors, and I was reminded that I had come to the New World seeking Penarddun. If anyone might know his whereabouts, it was the priests in his largest temple.
The interior resembled a tavern more than a place of worship. It was dimly lit by thick yellow candles hung in bronze sconces. A large fireplace was set into one wall, in which was hung a pot of something that smelled like spiced horsemeat. Each brick was carved with images of coyotes, and gods with the heads of coyotes, performing various heroic deeds (and some deeds of the more erotic variety). Several barrels sat near the back of the temple, and a young woman whose breasts were covered only by a necklace of woven flowers stood nearby, serving thick amber mead to temple worshippers.
I entered and, not knowing what else to do or even why I was there, took a seat at a nearby table. A serving woman approached. She had a pretty face and smelled of rose water perfume. She placed a small wooden chit in front of me. “That gentleman would like to know if you are interested in a game of Patolli,” she said nodding over her shoulder towards a table in the rear.
“I’m not interested, thank you,” I said, pushing the chit back towards her. “I’m meeting someone here.”
“The gentleman insists.”
That got my attention, and I looked up. A dark shadow sat at a large stone table in the back of the temple, a table that I’d assumed was an altar. He wore an animal skin headdress, as many Aztecs did, but when he looked up, it was not the animal’s eyes that reflected the candlelight. It was his own.
I took the wooden chit, thanked the waitress, and then crossed the room. As I got close I saw that he was inhumanly tall, perhaps nine feet at the shoulder, and incredibly well muscled. He wore a coyote skin on his head and the animal’s eyes looked down on me as I arrived, even though the giant remained seated. On the table before him was a mat made from dyed alpaca wool. Small jewels were placed on the mat – sapphires and rubies.
“I’m flattered, Huehuecoyotl,” I said. “Or should I say Penarddun? I understand that it’s very rare for the Aztecs to meet one of their gods in person.”
“Take a seat,” He said with a wave. Though I was tempted to remain standing because of the differences in our height, I sat in the indicated chair. “You made quite a lot of noise on the lake tonight. I heard it all the way from Australia.”
“Anything to get Your attention,” I said calmly. “I want my mask,”
“That can be arranged. For a price.”
“Fine,” I said. “But I won’t leave this building. Last time you sent me away, you weren’t there when I got back.”
“No. All that I require is that you remain here, with me, for the next twenty days.” He indicated the mat on the table in front of him. “We can play Patolli to pass the time.”
Twenty days? Just enough time to miss the meeting between Cortes and Moctezuma. “Why are You helping Wetiko, Penarddun?”
“I’m tired of this whole god business. It’s no fun. People beg you to solve their problems for them and they get upset when you don’t. Wetiko and I cut a deal. He and the Mother are in some kind of battle for the fate of the Aztecs. If He wins, He gets to rule the next age, and He’ll set Me up as King of the New World. That sounds like a lot more fun, doesn’t it? Servants. Riches. And none of this helping people stuff.”
“So if I remain here with you, Wetiko wins, the Mother loses, and I get to be the Trickster again?” My heart leapt at the thought. Finally, after all these years, I would be restored to my former glory! I had always expected that the puny human psyche that Penarddun possessed would be incapable of wielding the powers of a god for long, and now I saw that I had just overestimated the amount of time that had to pass before he broke.
But then I thought of the fish. Those stupid, smelly, scaly fish. What would happen to them if Wetiko won? Could I let that happen in good conscience?
“No,” I said, and it was such a surprise to hear myself saying it that I nearly jumped. I felt like I was outside myself, an observer looking in. “I found you once, I can find you again.”
Penarddun made a face. “I see you’ve been infected with a conscience. I suspected you weren’t the god you once were, so I have a contingency plan. One we might both find agreeable.” He indicated the board before him with a wave. “We play Patolli for it.”
One of the powers I still retained, like my gift with languages, was my familiarity with games of chance. The Patolli board was a giant letter X. Players each manoeuvred their pieces on one line of the X. The object of the game was to move pieces from one end to the other and back again. The number of moves a player could divide amongst their pieces was dictated by four dice that showed either a one or a zero on their faces. The danger was in the middle of the board where the two lines met. If a piece landed on a space already controlled by an opponent, that opponent’s piece was moved back to the beginning of the board and its moves were wasted.
I was confident that I would be able to detect if Penarddun used his powers to cheat, and he would know if I did the same. It would be a true game of chance and skill, and I knew that I could beat him at it. There was only one problem. “I have nothing to bet,” I confessed.
“There are twenty days until the meeting between Cortes and Moctezuma that decides this whole thing. So how about this: for every game I win, a day will pass outside. If you win twenty games before twenty days have passed you will be able to leave with the mask and still have time to save Moctezuma.” His eyes flashed again, though whether it was simply a trick of the light or not, I could not tell.
I hesitated. I never cheat in games of chance, but I have always been the master of using an opponent’s expectations against him and I thought I saw how I could take advantage of Penarddun’s proposal in a way he did not expect. Nothing in the rules said that I could not abandon the game before twenty days had passed. If I started to lose badly – if, say, I was down fifteen to three or some other hopeless number, I could simply walk away and still have five days left to save Moctezuma.
“Agreed,” I said.
Penarddun clapped his hands together gleefully. “Wonderful!” He motioned for the waitress to bring us mugs of mead and morsels of dried squirrel meat to chew on, and then we began.
The first two games went badly for me. It was obvious that, despite my knowledge of the principles of the game, Penarddun had much more practice. He was able to utilize several strategies I had not seen before. By the end of the third game, I was looking at the door.
I noticed that whenever Penarddun won, temple “patrons” or “worshippers” – I still could not discern the difference – seemed to move at a greatly accelerated pace. Their actions were jerky and blurred together, so that they might enter the temple, drink several cups of mead and eat a meal, and then leave again, all in the space of a few heartbeats. When I was finally able to win the fourth game, time resumed its normal speed.
My victory seemed to shake his confidence. He rested both elbows on the table and balanced his chin on woven fingers. When I won three more games in rapid succession, he slouched irritably in his chair and demanded more mead.
“Acolyte!” he yelled. “There are too many distractions! How can I win a game when patrons are constantly coming and going?”
The woman nodded obediently and began ushering the temple’s remaining occupants out the front door, whispered apologies and promises of free drinks when the contest was over speeding their exit. When we were alone, she pulled the drapes over the temple’s few windows and drew a set of curtains over the door. I would have protested had she gone so far as to bar the door, but as far as I could tell I was still free to leave any time I chose.
“Better,” Penarddun said with a grunt. And, truly, the lack of distractions seemed to work in his favour as he
won three games in a row.
We held even for the next few games and soon the score was tied at fourteen. We appeared to be evenly matched in skill. More often than not, a few lucky rolls determined the winner. More games passed in quick succession and I was beginning to get nervous. At seventeen games apiece I realized that even if I was to walk away now, I would only have three days in which to keep my promise to Inez and convince Cortes to abandon the Aztec capital.
As I tapped nervously on the table, Penarddun moved his head again and I had to squint against a sudden light in my eyes. I looked up and realized that it was not Penarddun’s pupils that reflected the candlelight or even those of his coyote headdress. It was the mask. Nearly transparent, I was confident that no one else could have seen it but me. Fire crept up from my stomach and spread to every nerve. I needed that mask! But... there were the fish to consider.
I played one more game, and then another. I won one and then Penarddun won one. Soon it was nineteen to eighteen in my favour, except that he was winning the current game. If he won, the score would be nineteen to nineteen and, even if I walked away, I would have only a single day left to convince Cortes to leave.
I looked at the door. I could go now. But how much better was two days than one? I’d beaten Baryoom in a single day, and I was confident I could do the same with Cortes. I needed that mask.
Penarddun rolled the dice and moved the last of his pieces to the home position, winning his nineteenth game. Thunder boomed in the far distance and my pieces rattled on the board. “You lose,” he said.
Something about his tone told me that he meant more than just the single game. “You’ve only won nineteen games,” I said.
His face cracked into a smile. It was not a nice smile. “My friend, we have been playing for a day. I never needed to win twenty.”
I felt blood rush to my cheeks. There’d been twenty days left until the meeting between Cortes and Moctezuma, but I’d wasted one playing against Penarddun. I stumbled away from the table, overturning a nearby stool. I looked around. Penarddun had asked for the windows to be covered not to minimize distractions, but to keep me from noting the passage of time.
The Book of the Emissaries: An Animism Short Fiction Anthology Page 15