As long as the boy runs free, Mexica will fail.
Although he despises the High Priest, Huemac would welcome Ichtaca’s advice now. He cuts a path towards the priest but it’s too late. A Spanish sword stroke separates them forever.
The priest falls, blood running from the blade wedged in his back.
Some will whisper that the Captain of the Temple Guard failed to defend him. They will mutter that Huemac never liked Ichtaca and that many times he was heard wishing the priest was dead.
It’s not my fault. The boy is responsible, Huemac rages. He has made the gods displeased with their priest. Worse than that, he has made the gods angry with Mexica. The city, like its priest, is in danger of falling with a Spanish sword in its back.
Huemac lunges, twists and another enemy soldier collapses. Impaled. Quickly, he reefs his lance point from the body. More soldiers and warriors push through the door to take the place of fallen comrades.
The floor is awash with blood.
But the Captain knows it is not enough. He must find the boy and bring him back. The promised sacrifice must be made.
It is his duty.
It must be done.
CHAPTER THREE
GIRL IN THE BOAT
“What are you doing here?”
Groan. It’s hard to see in the soupy gloom but I’d know that voice anywhere. Citlali. She’s the biggest know-it-all in the whole of Mexica.
The tunnel has led me down to the marsh edge. When my eyes adjust I see her sitting in a small canoe, the sort traders use to ply their wares along the city’s canals.
“What are you doing here?” I retort. “Where are you going?”
The canoe is packed with boxes.
“None of your business.” Citlali glares. “I can go wherever I want. But you’re a slave. You’re not allowed to leave the temple grounds. Last I heard, you were being sacrificed next week.” Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Have you escaped?”
“The Serpent-Sun god told Ichtaca to release me.”
She still looks wary. “How did you know the temple had a tunnel leading to the swamp?”
I didn’t. But I’m not going to tell her that.
What should I tell her? Right now I don’t trust anyone, even though I’ve known Lali for as long as I can remember. She’s always hanging around the temple. Girls aren’t welcome inside and Ichtaca chases them all away. Except her. He pretends he doesn’t know when she is there. Lali and I have had many long arguments and conversations. A slave is an easy mark for a bored girl looking for someone to torment.
But whether I like it or not, I need her help now. Our city is surrounded by water and there are only two ways out – across the causeway bridges or by canoe to the lake shore. If you want to sneak away, a boat is the best choice.
I take a deep breath and talk fast.
“The Spanish lords have turned against us and the temple is under attack. Ichtaca released me to deliver an urgent message to Purépecha. I’m on my way there now.” If you’re going to tell a lie, propping it up with the truth makes it more believable. And I need Lali to believe me or otherwise she might not take me across the lake. “It’s a secret mission.” I add the last bit so she doesn’t tell everyone she meets. Lali can talk the ear off a head of maize.
She studies my face unconvinced. “Why would the High Priest send a slave?”
“I’m the fastest runner in the temple. You know that. And Ichtaca is always talking about how I am like a son to him. He trusts me. Anyway, I’ve got proof.”
I show her the token. She doesn’t know how I got it but she recognises the temple pattern.
“You better get in then, before someone rams a spear in your back. It’ll be good to have someone to help me row. This canoe is hard to steer.”
“I’m not your slave,” I snarl. “I’m free now and I don’t have to do your rowing.”
“You’re not a listener either. I didn’t say you had to do all the rowing,” she says. “I thought we might pull together.”
I clamber on board, wedging myself next to Lali. There’s barely enough room to swing an oar. Every available space is crammed with boxes and stacked with packages. Luckily, a merchant boat is built to carry a heavy load. She must have everything she owns in here.
Lali is short and wiry, with long straight black hair that spills in waterfall waves. It splashes around her waist when she shakes her head. When she smiles, her pointy nose wrinkles and her eyes dance. She’s not bad to look at but she’s awful to listen to. She never stops talking. Lecturing. Showing off. Her voice drags like a mason’s knife against stone. Scritch. Scratch. Scra-a-a-tch.
“Are you paying attention?” The words scrape across my thoughts.
“Yes,” I snap. “I heard you.”
Lali looks down her nose and into my face. She’s not fooled. “What did I say?” she demands.
“Not much worth repeating.”
There’s one thing worse than a girl who talks all the time and that’s one who says nothing. Stone-faced, Lali hands me one oar. She ploughs through the water with the other. If I don’t start rowing now, we’ll be going round in circles. Taking a deep breath, I have to work hard to match her skinny little arms, stroke for stroke.
“Where are you taking all this stuff?” I ask.
She hesitates. “I suppose I should tell you seeing as you told me your secret. You trusted me, so I’ll be honest with you. I’m running away.”
What a terrible liar. At least my story sounded believable. Why would she run away? No one owns her. I’ve never seen her family but I can tell from her clothes that her parents are wealthy and important. Still, it doesn’t matter if she tells the truth or not. As long as she helps me get across the lake. Then we’ll go our separate ways.
Night sneaks across the water, dragging small sounds with it. The croak of marsh frogs and the barking quock of the night heron. A startled duck flaps into the air.
“Thanks for helping me, Lali,” I mumble.
“I did it for Ichtaca,” she says, as if we have been chatting all the way. “He’s always kind to me.”
He used to be good to me too. That was before he decided to kill me.
We look back towards Tenochtitlan, where the city burns against the night sky.
“Do you think anyone will follow us?” I ask.
“Who would bother with two kids in a canoe?”
The Captain might, if one of those kids was me. He swore a powerful oath on his dead wife’s memory. But he would never abandon the temple while it was in danger. He’s probably dead by now. The Captain of the Temple Guard leads the procession of warriors dancing at the festival – he would have been the first to die when the Spanish attacked. But I don’t feel sad. I feel safe. The Captain won’t be able to keep his promise.
“The pale lords won’t come out on the lake at night,” Lali says. “They’re frightened of crocodiles.”
“Where?” Nervously, I scan the water for a glint of moonlight against eyes. Feeling safe didn’t last very long.
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
“Of course not.” My eyes sweep the water again. “A crocodile is a sign of a good day ahead. I hope we see lots of them. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“You are,” Lali scoffs. “You’re so scared, you’re making the boat shake.”
“I am not. Do you want me to dive into the water to prove it? I’m brave enough.”
“That wouldn’t be brave, Atl. That would be stupid.”
I pull a face and poke my tongue out at her. She can’t see me well enough to notice, but it makes me feel better anyway.
“You were lucky I found you. Otherwise you really would be crocodile food.” She pauses. “Maybe the gods brought us together so I could help you deliver the message to Purépecha.”
The gods would prefer to see me dead. Anyway, I don’t need her help because I’m not even going to Purépecha. I’m heading in the same direction but I’m going where I want to. I can feel th
e tug of freedom.
“I don’t need a girl to come with me. I can deliver the message myself,” I say.
“Have you ever been to Purépecha?” Lali’s tone is teasing and smug. “Do you know where it is? Or how many days away?”
“No.” The jaguar inside senses a trap. “But if I run north-west, I’m sure to find it.”
“I’ve been there and I know the way,” Lali gloats. “Boys are as thick as wet mud bricks.”
I try to ignore the challenge but I can’t. So I stick my nose in the air and dare to walk into another trap.
“Everyone knows boys are smart. That’s why they go to school, even slaves. Girls just learn to cook and sew.”
Lali laughs. “Ollin falls asleep in class. Tenoch spends his time squashing bugs, and you …” She pauses. I know I should have kept my mouth shut. The trap is about to spring. “You pick your toenails under the table.”
“I do not,” I protest, guiltily curling my toes.
In the darkness I imagine her smirk.
“I bet the Purépechans won’t help,” I say to change the subject. “They won’t believe a message from Tenochtitlan no matter who delivers it. The two cities have been at war for decades.”
“Of course they will help.” Lali’s voice drifts into a lecture. “Our army hates the Purépechans because they can’t defeat them.” She smiles. “But Ichtaca is a good friend of Purépecha. The priests in each city warn each other when a battle is being planned. No army ever wins but both temples do. They make sure there is a constant stream of sacrifices. A river of blood connects our cities and the priests keep it flowing.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say.
Exasperated, Lali sighs. “You explain it then.”
Maybe she’s right. The Captain of the Temple Guard led the last two marches to Purépecha. And they both failed. It’s easy to imagine Ichtaca gleefully sabotaging the Captain’s campaign.
“But how?” I ask.
Lali leans over and taps my nose. Hard. “What do you think a secret exit tunnel is for? It’s so the priests and their envoys can travel secretly between the two cities.”
“Ichtaca has never travelled to Purépecha,” I insist. “I would have known.” Or would I? A good priest is a clever magician, he told me. You can’t trust a magician and I certainly don’t trust Ichtaca any more.
“Maybe he sent someone else.” Lali clicks her tongue. “I don’t know everything!”
Thank goodness for that.
I’m tired of listening to her boasting and gloating. It’s going to be a long, tedious trip across the lake and my ears and nose hurt already. Lali’s oar stroke flicks water into my face. I’m glad I’ll be rid of her soon. Tomorrow, when we reach the shore of the lake, I’ll tell her she can’t come with me. Maybe I’ll even tell her the truth. I can do whatever I like now.
“Let’s stop for a moment. I need a drink. There’s a water bottle here somewhere.” Lali rummages beneath her feet.
I’m glad of the respite. After days cramped inside the box my muscles are stiff and unused to exercise.
I wrap my fingers around the gold token in my pouch and squeeze until it hurts, then settle back to imagine the wonderful new life stretching out before me.
“What was it like inside the box?” Lali interrupts.
She never stops talking. But before I can answer the boat rocks.
“Sit still,” commands Lali. “You’ll tip us both into the water.”
“You’re not in charge of me,” I snap. “I’m not a slave any more and I don’t have to do what you say.”
The boat rocks again and I feel Lali glare through the darkness.
“It wasn’t me. Maybe you should sit still,” I say.
The moon edges out from behind a cloud, just enough for me to see her worried face.
She peers across the water. “Atl,” she whispers, “I think a crocodile is stalking us.”
I hold my breath, afraid even to breathe, as I search the water behind the canoe. Two cruel eyes glisten and stare. I’m not really brave when it comes to crocodiles. Fear punches me in the throat and I have to fight hard not to double over in terror. Run, Atl, run.
Bump.
Thump-bump.
The crocodile has its mouth wide open. Wide enough for a canoe full of kids to fit inside. Rows of sharp, jagged teeth rip and tear into my mind. Can a crocodile bite through a canoe? One look at those teeth and I know this one can. I try to recall everything I know about crocodiles but all I can remember is the terrified face of the chinampa lake farmer. I was there when they pulled the remains of his body from the water.
The image clogs my thoughts.
Bump.
“Go away!” Lali shakes her fist at the crocodile.
If any voice could scare a crocodile, it’s hers. The crocodile doesn’t even blink an eye but Lali’s shriek cuts into my thoughts, slicing me free of the dead farmer’s face.
“Do you have any weapons?” I ask. “Something I can strike its snout with? I don’t want to waste an oar.”
“I’ve got two throwing lances and a bow and arrows. Some knives too.”
“No club?”
“I didn’t bring everything. I’m not an Eagle war party.”
I don’t want to throw weapons away when I’ve got none of my own. I’m hoping Lali will share some of her equipment and provisions if she thinks I’m running to save the city.
Bump. Thump.
Crocodiles might be the sign of a good day ahead but they are not a good sign in the middle of the night. The chinampa farmers worry about them all the time while they tend their garden mounds on the lake. A crocodile is a vicious, aggressive animal that will eat almost anything.
That’s it! “Lali, is there anything to eat in these boxes?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid. I brought food supplies.” She points to a large box. “That one’s roast waterfowl and behind you are corn tortillas …”
“Let’s feed this crocodile something other than us.”
Together we heave a box of roast fowl into the water.
“Go,” I bellow. We don’t wait while the crocodile unwraps its dinner. For once Lali and I think alike. We each take an oar and stroke hard. Long lunges pull us through the water in great glides. On and on. Swish, swash. Soon, Lali is exhausted and I am too.
I row until my arms ache and even then I keep going. The crocodile is far behind us now but there’s no way I’m going to be the first to stop. I’m not going to be outdone by a girl, especially this one.
When Lali slows I sigh inwardly with relief.
“What are we stopping for?” I ask. “I could keep going for hours.”
“We need to rest,” she says. “It would be foolish to overdo it and be so stiff and sore we couldn’t walk tomorrow. Even a slave boy should know that.”
My pride burns and shrivels behind my red face.
“I’m not a slave. Ichtaca set me free and I’m going to be a hero.”
Perhaps I should go to Purépecha after all. If I save Tenochtitlan, even Lali would have to treat me with respect. Everyone would. No, I decide. Why should I bother trying to save a city that condemned me to death?
“There’s no need to sulk,” Lali says.
I turn my face away and ignore her. She’ll hate that even more.
My senses grow to fill the night. The stars are brighter. The silence is louder. The swamp stinks of mud. The swish of the water rolls across the lake …
The lake is silent and the boat is still. Above us, the moon plays hide-and-seek in the clouds. My fingers curl around the token, the metal warm and comforting in my hand.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Lali asks.
I don’t want to talk any more and I don’t want to listen to her chatter. “I’m really tired.” I pretend to yawn. “It’s been a big day. We can talk in the morning.”
“All right. But we need to decide if we’re going to sleep out here on the lake. The shore can’t be far. We could cl
imb a tree there,” says Lali.
A tree would be safe but to get to the shore we have to wade through the shallows. In my mind the crocodile opens one eye then sinks below the water’s edge. Waiting.
I yawn again. “Let’s sleep here. I need to rest now if I’m going to run all day tomorrow.”
“We should take turns to watch. Just in case the crocodile comes back.”
“I’ll go first then,” I volunteer.
Lali’s eyebrows furrow with suspicion. “I thought you were tired?”
“Goodnight, Lali.” I ignore her question.
“Goodnight, Atl.”
I can tell she’s angry but I don’t care. I don’t have to worry about being punished any more. Not even a crocodile can tell me what to do.
The moon dips and the stars wink. Finally it’s quiet. I just hope she doesn’t talk in her sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
BAD MEMORIES
The smell of food tickles the inside of my nose.
Ouch! Ye-ouch!
Lali’s toenails don’t tickle. They scrape across my dreams as her foot pokes me in the stomach.
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” I protest. “I was keeping watch.”
She snorts. “What for? It was your turn to sleep.”
“I must have dreamed I was keeping watch,” I grumble.
“At least one of us was doing something useful. I made breakfast while you were sleep-watching.”
“You didn’t have to,” I roll over to face away from her.
I’m so hungry I could eat a crocodile. I sit up and scratch an insect bite on my arm, acting like I don’t care about the food. It almost works, until my stomach rumbles in betrayal. There’s no escaping Lali’s ears. Or her smirk.
“If you’re going to run to Purépecha, you need a healthy breakfast. Something that’s light but will last all day. Then you won’t have to waste time stopping to eat lunch.”
It’s hard to argue with that. I’m in a hurry to get as far away as possible.
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