by Zoe Saadia
“He thinks himself better than his father, our old Emperor. He will wreak havoc on the Empire in an attempt to prove it. He will expand and expand, until our lands will be too large and too numerous to manage. Then it’ll collapse. It happened to Mayans, it happened to Toltecs, it’ll happen to us unless a wiser Emperor maintains the existing situation. The old Emperor thought it was the best course. But we are growing a dangerous animal right in our back yard, you see? It has to be put down, preferably destroyed, before it grows too powerful to handle.”
“The Aztecs,” she said, making it a statement.
“Yes, our so-very-humble Mexica allies. The mighty Acolnahuacatl, our strong previous Emperor, had tamed them most thoroughly, but he did not finish them off. He had preferred to use them to finish off our enemies at Culhuacan. And that might prove to have been a mistake. Are you versed in our history, Sakuna? Did my nephew bother to tell you how it all had begun?”
“The flayed princess?” she asked, remembering the way Tecpatl had told her that story fifteen summers ago, when they were oh, so very young, traveling the desert, fighting its predators, beginning to fall in love. He had offered to take her back with him, hesitantly, not yet sure of that decision himself. And she was thrilled that he had offered, but also hesitant, not sure if that was the right thing to do. And then, they had talked, and he told her about the Aztecs and the flayed princess of Culhuacan, laughing at their barbarity, telling her that Azcapotzalco’s people would sacrifice only the captured warriors.
She had been horrified. She’d never heard of human sacrifice before. Unable to grasp such barbarity, she tried to argue and only made him angry by her attitude worthy of peasants. That night they had arrived at the conclusion that their mutual future was not to be.
So much had changed since. She sighed, concentrating on the deep voice of the formidable man who now held her family’s fate in his greedy power-hungry palm.
“We almost destroyed them back then,” the man was saying, immersed in his story. He seemed to enjoy himself, she thought, surprised. “They were finished, scattering off like squirrels. But Culhuacan intervened, giving them a piece of worthless land, and we were not in the position to start the war your husband waged so successfully some twenty, thirty summers later. But when the incident with the flayed princess had occurred, Culhuacan wanted to destroy them, yet this time we were the ones to aid them, to give them the better land, turning them into our most prized mercenaries. How wrong we were!”
She had never seen the imposing man so animated, so agitated, so upset. The formidable palms chopped the air.
“It was such a mistake. Such a fatefully wrong decision! Even at the cost of preserving Culhuacan, even at the price of allying ourselves with them, we should have seized the chance to destroy those Aztecs. They are growing too fast, our worthwhile allies. Their sprawling city is filling that pitiful island we gave them, brackish water and all. It’s growing, Sakuna, that city is growing with each passing day. And I tell you, one day they’ll destroy us. I can feel it in my bones. One day, in the future, they will be strong enough to ally with the discontented among our neighbors. And then they will destroy us.” Again old and tired, the heavyset man sagged in his chair. “Do you understand me, Sakuna? Can you see what I see?”
“Yes,” she said, pitying him. “I see what you see. Azcapotzalco may look invincible, but it was not always like that, and it may not always be the case.”
He glanced at her from under his bushy eyebrows. “I can understand why my nephew likes talking to you. I thought it bizarre at the time, but now I see that you have nothing in common with any woman, civilized or barbarian, that I’ve ever met. Are all women of your lands like you?
She suppressed her welling sadness. “My people do not exist anymore.”
He acknowledged this with a nod.
“So Sakuna, what shall we do?”
She shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”
His gaze was piercing. “How?”
She didn’t drop her eyes. “I know my way with herbs.”
“It will be too obvious,” he said softly.
“Only if the local herbs are used.”
“How long will it take?”
“Not long.”
“Tomorrow at noon I’ll send a man, or a woman, who will come to receive it from you.”
She tensed. “My husband and my son come to no harm, no harm at all!”
“Your son is not in any danger.”
“He is in the Palace!”
“Of course, he is. He is in the service of the correct emperor.”
“That’s impossible! How…”
“Leave it, Sakuna. He is all right. For the next few days concentrate on what has to be done.”
“You promise not to hurt Tecpatl however difficult he might prove?”
“Yes,” he said tiredly. “I will be glad not to kill my nephew. You can make it possible.” He straightened up, back his old formidable self. “I’ll send a group of warriors to escort you home.”
“I have my maid and my litter bearers.”
The man chuckled. “At this time of the day it might prove not enough. You are too valuable, Sakuna.” His twisted grin widened. “Can’t risk your life dragging around the nighttime Azcapotzalco now.”
She grinned back, not afraid of him anymore. He was just an old man with no one to talk to.
***
The first drops of rain began falling as they rushed down the deserted streets. The thunder roared one after another, but the well-beaten roads were still dry. Then one especially powerful roar shook the air, and the drops as large as cocoa beans bounced off the thirsty earth.
They ducked into the gate and ran down the path, her litter tossing about. This time she didn’t mind. Springing out of her carriage, she ran up the wide stairs, passing a maid who leaped toward her.
“Take care of the warriors who brought me in,” she tossed at the woman. “Offer then something to eat and drink.”
“But Mistress…” The woman seemed anxious to tell her something. Her opinion on her adventures, thought Sakuna, pushing the woman aside.
“Take care of the warriors. Go!”
She stood in the darkness of her spacious hall, panting. Well, one worry less. Atolli was all right, and Tecpatl would be just fine. And she was about to do something terrible.
She shivered. The realization of the nature of the affair she had agreed to participate in dawned upon her.
Agreed to participate? She had suggested it! But then, what choice did she have?
She brought her hands to her hair, suddenly realizing it was disheveled and wet. And her chin still hurt. She touched it lightly. It was too late to order a bath. Well, then it would be the first thing to do in the morning. Before she began to prepare…
Thunder rolled above, startling her. She turned around and gasped, taking in the figure in the doorway, leaning against the wall, watching her.
“Where have you been?”
His voice rang hollowly between the plastered walls. In the sudden flash of the lightning she saw him clearly for a moment, the gaunt pale face, the disheveled hair.
With an effort, he pushed himself against the wall and straightened up, entering the spacious room, paces unsteady, one hand holding onto a flask of an exquisite pottery, fragrant and beautifully painted.
She rushed toward him. “Tecpatl! Are you hurt?”
He pushed her hands away. “Where have you been?”
She stared at him, speechless as another lightning flashed. She could see his eyes now, full of rage and frustration, glimmering darkly, furiously. Involuntarily, she took a step back.
He laughed. “Are you afraid of me, Sakuna? Why would you be afraid?” He came closer. “What have you been up to?” He swayed a little, but managed to regain his balance.
“You are drunk,” she whispered, appalled. He would rarely touch octli, even on social occasions. He always said it would blur his senses in a way he disliked. He would never r
isk losing control of himself. Drinking octli was not worthy of a leader, the man responsible for the elite warriors, the best of the best.
“No, not seriously.” He waved the beautiful pottery as if brushing her words aside. “I found that flask, and it was almost full. And it was the only thing I have found in my house.” He peered at her through the darkness. “You know, there are old habits one has. Like coming home and finding your wife waiting for you. It’s a very nice habit.” He measured her with a glance and now, accustomed to the darkness, she saw how much rage his face held in spite of the seemingly calm, conversational tone. “I had my life very nicely organized, you know? And suddenly, in one rotten day, it’s all gone or about to go. My position in the Palace is questioned, my son is spitting into my face by going about serving my enemies against my direct orders, my wife is spending her nights somewhere else. Doing what?” He leaned closer. “Could you answer that, Sakuna?”
She took a step back, nauseated by the rich, spicy smell of the octli. His hand shot forward, grabbing her shoulder.
“I loved this very nicely organized life of mine, you know?” He went on, his conversational tone not matching the force with which his fingers dug into her flesh. “It has its price, but I was willing to pay it. It was well worth it. I thought you were as happy about it. Was I wrong?” He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing against her forehead.
Despite her shock, she melted against him, raising her face to his, expecting a kiss. The kiss didn’t come. He just peered into her face, and all she could see were his eyes, as black as her obsidian mirror.
She shivered, blinking back the welling tears. The sadness she sensed behind his rage squeezed her chest, cutting into her heart as a priest with a sacrificial dagger would.
“Tecpatl.” She raised her arms, taking hold of his shoulders. “It’s going to be all right, you know. We’ll take care of this trouble. I’ll make it right for all of us. You’ll see.”
He pushed her arms away. “Where have you been?” he repeated, voice low.
“I can’t tell you now, but you’ll see it will help us.”
He laughed - a low bitter sound. “So,” he said, still laughing. “My wife is busy arranging things behind my back. The Chief Warlord is not an exalted enough man for you anymore, eh Sakuna? After all those summers you decided to better your fortune, I see. Amazing how alike you and your son are thinking!”
She stared at him in disbelief. How dared he to think something like that!
“Well, my sweet little noblewoman of the Great Capital, I have some news for you. We were leading unusual life, weren’t we? Away from the Palace’s politics, away from the other nobles. No other wives, no concubines, all this freedom to go about. We were playing against the rules, but we were happy about it. Were we not?” He grabbed her shoulder once again. “Answer me! Weren’t you happy?” He shook her violently as she stared at him, still speechless, still unable to think, still unafraid. “Answer me!”
She saw the hand with the flask raising. Unable to believe it, she watched it raising higher and higher, the remnants of the thick liquid beginning to trickle from the elegantly prolonged beak.
Her thoughts swirled about. He was going to strike her. No, he would never do this. He couldn’t…
Lightning flashed again. She stared into his eyes, seeing the enlarged pupils, the white around them so glaringly bright and red rimmed.
As they were thrust back into the darkness, the deafening thunder rolled by and she saw his silhouette leaping backwards, hitting the pole of the wide entrance. She could hear his heavy breathing. Her eyes tried to penetrate the darkness. The rain was pounding on the roof as if enraged along with the Master of the House.
“You know,” he said hoarsely, and she could see his silhouette leaning against the pole, shoulders sagging. “Women have no rights. They are their husbands’ or their fathers’ property, to use as their masters see fit. You are my property, Sakuna. Like the last of the slaves, if you think of it. I can kill you, if it pleases me. The law says I can. And you don’t even have a powerful family to try to talk me out of it. Infidelity is a very serious crime, you see?” He raised the hand with the flask once again. “See this flask? It is very pretty and valuable. You must have paid a high enough price while buying it. These things are usually costly, such beautiful pottery. See this flask, Sakuna?” He thrust it closer to her face so she could see the elaborate patterns, even if the beautiful coloring was swallowed by the darkness. “This is my property, Sakuna. And if I am displeased with it…”
In another flash of lightning she watched his fingers tightening, his knuckles white against the beautiful patterns. The vessel screeched hollowly, cracking. His fist kept pressing, crushing the fragments. Mesmerized, she watched the blood, his blood, seeping between his fingers, thick and black in the darkness.
He watched it too, as fascinated. When he looked up, her heart missed a beat, then leaped wildly inside her chest. The pain in his face made her want to gather him into her arms. She rushed toward him.
“Don’t!” he cried, shooting his hands forward as if trying to stop her. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want to hurt you!”
She clutched his stretched hand, tried to press it against her chest. He shook it off violently.
“Go, Sakuna. Please go now. I don’t want to hurt you!” He backed away, sliding along the wall. “Go to your rooms and stay there. You are not allowed to leave this house.”
He was gone, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the beating rain.
Chapter 14
Atolli watched the lightning, half hoping it would strike down a tree or maybe hit at some of the low roofs around the Palace.
Oblivious to the opaque rain that kept beating his face, he clutched at the slippery marble of the terrace’s railing, leaning forward, peering into the darkness, waiting for another powerful flash.
The storm pleased him, fitting perfectly the foulness of his mood. Somehow he had managed to go through the rest of the afternoon as if nothing had happened, pretending he was not affected by this hideously wrong interview with his father.
They fought, switching weapons, switching surroundings, until the darkness and the growling of the nearing storm forced them to stop. He suspected the warriors wanted to tire him, to see what he was made of aside from his ability to use this or that weapon. He didn’t care. After the conversation on the patio he lost all interest, not anxious to impress them anymore.
As a result, his fighting improved instead of deteriorating. Carelessness suited him. He managed to draw quite a few crimson lines upon his opponents’ skins, his own numerous cuts and scratches not bothering him in the least.
The warriors were impressed, even the ones that had doubted him. Sprawling upon the mats in one of the lower floor’s suite of rooms, they devoured a rich assortment of foods and talked loudly between themselves. They treated him almost as an equal. He didn’t care. He ate heartily and answered politely when spoken to, craving only to reach some private corner and be left alone.
He needed to think, to understand what had happened. But when the opportunity had presented itself, he shrank away from the troublesome thoughts, watching the storm, seeing nothing.
What did he have to complain of? he asked himself. His life could not have been better arranged. Just a few days ago he had been a calmecac student of no importance, a youth with no rights or privileges. But now he was a man, a warrior, admitted into the ranks of the royal guards, allowed to go out whenever not on duty, permitted to eat whatever he liked and drink octli. He was fighting with a real obsidian sword and would be allowed to carry such one in the very near future. He had everything a young warrior could dream of, had he not?
He stared at the darkness, waiting for another flash. The trees beneath the terrace groaned. He wished one would fall. Or maybe catch fire. It would be a marvelous sight to look at. How would they go about dousing the flames? he thought randomly. A big fire might interesting to watch. He could even snea
k home for a few hours, unnoticed in the chaos that would follow. He really needed to see his family. His mother would be worried sick and Mecatl had not been sent for yet. And his father…
He shivered involuntarily. Would Father let him explain? He hadn’t wanted to hurt that outstanding man by doing what he did. He just wanted to find a way to make things right after being expelled from school. There seemed to be no better way. He had his own life to lead, hadn’t he? He could not always do what his father thought fit. Or could he?
He shut his eyes, trying to banish his father’s face from his memory. This last time he’d seen him, so angered, so indignant, so desperate. As formidable as always, but now like a wounded animal facing the closing hunters – haunted, desperate, dangerous. Were they closing on him in some way? Was it through him, his son?
He ground his teeth. Of course it was.
He could hide from the truth all he liked, but the facts would not change. Chictli had told him they were after his father; they wanted to persuade him to take their side. They could not do without him, so persuade him they would.
He unclenched his palms with an effort, his fingers numb from clutching the cold stone with such force. His father would not give up. He knew the man well. By turning around and leaving with a few cold, cutting words, wishing his son a good life, he had shown them that he would not be blackmailed.
So now here he was, pledged to the people determined to remove his father from his position by any means necessary.
He groaned, glad for another outburst of thunder that rolled above his head, deafening any other sound.
“Here you are!”
Startled, he whirled around, his heart pounding. The girl’s silhouette was clearly visible against the dimly lit opening. Short and plump, she stood at the doorway, hands folded on her chest.
“Come here,” she called out. “I’m not going out into the rain to talk to you.”
“Either come out or go away,” he said, recognizing Kaab’s unappealing form.
“Oh, so I just go back to my mistress and tell her you sent me away?” She sounded genuinely surprised.