Fugitives of Fate

by Morganfield, T. L.

  Cuauhtemoc remained silent too, but when his mother whispered about how he was being a less than attentive host, he asked Lady Ichtaca, "Are your quarters adequate?"

  "Most adequate, thank you," she said with a stiff smile. She hadn't been pleased about leaving Tlaxcala, and her discomfort for having been left in the den of her kingdom's former enemy was readily apparent. She spent most of her days sequestered in her room with Nauyotl, not letting him play with the other children.

  Achicatl watched Nauyotl poke at his food, a scornful look on her face. "It's not as if it's poison," she barked, snatching a piece of fruit from his plate and popping it in her mouth, as if to make her point.

  "He doesn't have to eat if he doesn't want to," Cuauhtemoc said.

  "But it's good food, and he's going to waste it!"

  Papantzin leaned over to stroke Achicatl's head. "Sometimes when you miss someone, it's hard to eat, dear. Am I right?"

  Achicatl slouched against the table, a cross expression on her face. "Tatli, when is Lady Malintzin coming back? She's been gone forever."

  He pursed his lips. "Soon, dear. I hope."

  Ixtlil cast him a questioning look.

  I can't go on lying to my daughter, or my best friend. Cuauhtemoc rose from the stone table. "Ixtlil, can I speak with you a moment, in private?"

  "Of course." Ixtlil downed the rest of his drink then followed Cuauhtemoc back into the gardens.

  They stopped at the pond where he and Malinali used to sit and talk, and he felt as if a giant rock had rolled atop him, pinning him in place.

  "What is on your mind?" Ixtlil asked after an awkward silence.

  "Malintzin is not coming back."

  "Why not?"

  Reaching into the pocket of his robe, Cuauhtemoc retrieved the maguey pouch with Malinali's name symbol on it. He carried it with him all the time, intending it to be a reminder of what she'd done and why she couldn't be with him anymore, but instead, holding it had become a liniment for his pain when he thought he might break down. He rubbed his fingers over the rough fiber for a moment before handing it to Ixtlil. "She bewitched me with a love potion."

  Ixtlil gaped at him. "She did?"

  Cuauhtemoc nodded. "She left the pouch in Tlaxcala, probably so I'd never know what she did, but Acxotecatl found it and confronted her about it, right in front of me."

  "What did she say?"

  "She didn't deny anything; in fact, she readily said the pouch—and the mix inside it—were hers."

  Ixtlil handed it back to him. "Why didn't you say anything before now?"

  "And admit I'd been deceived? That a witch conned her way not only into my bed but into the second most powerful political position in the city? We both know what happened to Tizoc when the Council decided he wasn't fit to rule anymore."

  "They had him poisoned."

  "Yes, making way for my own father to become huey tlatoani. This misstep could taint my father's legacy."

  "Then Malintzin is dead?"

  "No." Cuauhtemoc tucked the pouch back into his pocket. "I sent her away instead."

  Ixtlil exhaled hard. "If Zolin or the others find out—"

  "I know, but at the time, I couldn't bring myself to do it. And now, even after nearly a month has passed, my heart hasn't changed a bit. I think of her when I go to sleep and I think of her when I wake; the time in between that is merely a torturous reminder that I can't hold her anymore. I don't want to ride my horse; I don't even want to go to Chapultepec ever again. Instead I spend my days wondering what she's doing, wondering if she thinks about me, and wondering why she did this."

  "Maybe the spell has to be lifted by the witch who casts it." Ixtlil nodded, standing straighter. "Yes, that's exactly what we'll do! We will go find her and make her lift it. Do you know where she is?"

  "In Tlaxcala. She's waiting for her guard to recover enough to travel again, so they can go to Paynala."

  "We'll leave this afternoon."

  "What if she won't lift the spell?"

  "Then we'll know she's truly a vile witch and I'll kill her myself." Ixtlil set a hand on Cuauhtemoc's shoulder. "No one holds my friend under their thrall and lives to tell the tale."

  Cuauhtemoc finally managed to smile. "You're a true and loyal friend, Ixtlil, but what if there wasn't a spell? What if what I feel isn't an illusion at all?"

  "Then what you do is entirely up to you, and whatever you decide...I stand with you."

  Cuauhtemoc embraced his friend, squeezing back joyful tears. "Thank you, Ixtlil."

  ¤

  Within a day of arriving in the small town just over the border into Tlaxcala, Tenoch fell deliriously ill from his wound. Malinali and Xochitli rented two rooms in a boarding house and sat at his bedside day and night, trying to nurse him back to health. Malinali bartered half of her jewelry to bring a priest in to see him, though the man's prayers did little good, and Tenoch spent a week falling in and out of consciousness. At night he soaked his blankets with sweat as he mumbled about people neither she nor Xochitli knew.

  "I think he's going to die," Xochitli confessed after a particularly trying night. He'd stopped breathing at one point and had to be revived, and Xochitli had spent an hour crying.

  At first light, Malinali went out seeking the local sorcerer. Doctors were plentiful in the urban areas of Tlaxcala, but in the countryside, sorcerers were the best one could hope for. The local one—an old woman who reminded Malinali of the witch who had taught her back in Potonchan—gave her a potion to bring Tenoch's fever down, a poultice to heal his wound, and a tonic to help him sleep through the worst of it.

  "Are you sure we should give this to him?" Xochitli asked when Malinali explained where she got the medicines. "Given how angry he was about the love potion...might he object to using witchcraft to heal him?"

  "If he wishes to kill me for saving him, then that's his prerogative," Malinali said. "If we leave him be, he will surely die. Giving him these potions cannot make him any worse."

  And they worked wonders. Within a couple of days, the fever broke and the nasty mess his shoulder had become cleared up and started healing. He slept through most of it, but when he woke to eat, he was clear-headed and calm. Malinali braced herself when she told him of the potions they'd fed him during his recovery, but he said little about it and took his medicines with no protest. By the third week, he was finally able to get out of bed and take short walks. He talked of being well enough to travel soon, something Malinali suspected was overly optimistic. He sat in the sun every day, rubbing his shoulder as if it might speed up his healing. Xochitli often sat with him, listening to him talk of the military campaigns he went on as a young man, and—Malinali suspected—growing fond of him.

  But Malinali already knew that it would be months before Tenoch would be healthy enough to risk the long journey south to Paynala, and every day Xochitli spent with her was one day more she wasn't back in Tenochtitlan working off her father's debt, one more day she had to spend wearing that slave collar. And Xicotencatl had warned her about staying too long.... She couldn't wait any longer.

  Knowing Tenoch would try to stop her from going off on her own, she made plans to sneak away in the middle of the night, when both he and Xochitli were asleep.

  ¤

  The evening Malinali planned to head south, the rain poured from the heavens. She stood at her window, watching it fall in sheets and begrudging the rain god for his timing. This wasn't even the rainy season yet—and Tlaxcala was in a drought—but here it was, turning the roads muddy and treacherous. It wasn't safe to travel in such conditions.

  As she checked her bag a fourth time—to make certain she wasn't leaving anything behind—she thought she heard horses out in the courtyard, but when she looked out the window into the hazy grey twilight, she saw only the relentless rain. You're hearing things, she scolded herself then returned to checking her bag.

  Someone rattled the bells on her door curtain, startling her, and she scrambled to hide the bag. "Yes?"


  Tenoch parted the curtain, looking grim. "You have a visitor, My Lady." He pulled the curtain all the way open and stepped aside.

  Cuauhtemoc stood in the hallway beyond, dressed in a rain-drenched feathered cloak and mud-splashed buckskin pants. A dark expression covered his face.

  Malinali froze, her mind racing. He’s finally come to bring me to justice for my treachery?

  "Should I see about accommodations for the night for you and your men, Revered Speaker?" Tenoch asked.

  "I'm not staying long." Cuauhtemoc didn't take his eyes off Malinali as he stepped into the room.

  "Of course, My Lord." Tenoch closed the curtain carefully, leaving them alone.

  Malinali stared back at Cuauhtemoc, matching his dark disposition. If you’ve come to pass judgment on me, I won't go meekly.

  Cuauhtemoc's expression pinched further when he shifted his gaze to the cloak she'd left lying on the bed. "Going somewhere?"

  "I am." She looked at the bed too, better to hide the crumbling facade of her bitterness. "I'm going home to take my rightful place as the queen of Paynala. Though I'm certain my brother will resist, maybe even try to kill me."

  "That would be a complete miscalculation on his part. But then you seem to have that effect on most men."

  Her shoulders rose, indignant. "Why are you here? Did you hear rumors that I was bewitching more men with magic potions, and you've come to save the empire from me?"

  He sneered; the jab wounded him more than she'd intended. "Since you bring it up, are you?"

  "I won't even dignify that with an answer." She turned her back on him and resumed gazing outside; anything to not look at him.

  "Truthfully, I've heard little about you since you left, but I didn't expect you to remain here in Tlaxcala for so long."

  "Tenoch was injured and needed time to recover."

  "I heard he took an arrow defending you."

  "I didn't ask him to, but he did anyway. He's a good man; selfless and loyal."

  "A hard quality to find these days."

  "As is trust." She cast him a hard glare. "Have you come to finish where Acxotecatl failed?"

  "Of course not."

  "Then what do you want of me?"

  An air of exhaustion settled over Cuauhtemoc like a storm cloud, and with water dripping from his untied hair and his cloak clinging to him like lake weed, he looked like a lost child. "I have to ask you...about that potion—"

  "It was my herb bag, Cuauhtemoc. I brewed a love potion to try to make you love me and I have no defense for my actions. I did it, and I'm sorry. You made a good decision in sending me away—"

  "I know it was a good decision, but...do the effects wear off over time?"

  "Magic is as fleeting as the whims of the gods. As we must constantly feed them blood and sacrifice, witchcraft must be constantly nurtured and renewed."

  "Then I shouldn't feel any more effects of it?"

  "Whatever you feel now, those are your true feelings."

  Taking a deep breath, Cuauhtemoc broke into a relieved sigh and joined her at the window. "I had to be certain. You know my obsessions. That's how this whole thing started; I wondered if you could be good for the empire."

  "What could one insignificant slave woman do about anything?"

  He turned to her, his eyes hard again. "You were very useful to Hernán Cortés."

  She backed away, her stomach sinking. "What does that mean?"

  "What I saw in the Black Lake...there was no grand battle between the Mexica and the Spanish at Potonchan; instead, Cortés swept the local warriors aside and forced surrender from their king, and the king gave him slaves, hoping to appease his anger. You were one of those slaves."

  A knot formed in Malinali’s throat. She had been in Potonchan when the Spanish came ashore. She had been one of the king’s many slaves....

  "When Cortés learned you spoke both Chontal and Nahuatl, you became his translator for all dealings with us; he even taught you to speak Spanish, so he could speak directly to you rather than relying on translations from one of his crewmates that spoke the Maya tongue. He made use of your knowledge of the land and the people, and he consulted you about how to proceed when his army met hostilities at each new city. You advised him on how to deal with Motecuhzoma, and he came to trust you more than his own men. You were lovers too, and you bore him a son. And when all was done, the Spanish would say that if not for you—for all the aid and insight you gave them—they never would have succeeded in conquering our lands. So yes, one insignificant slave woman can do a lot."

  His words felt like a garrote around her neck. She sank to the bed, feeling she might fall over if she stood any longer. "You're saying I would have turned traitor, that I would have helped that...that man destroy our world?" She choked on the question, afraid of the answer. She’d believed Cuauhtemoc’s other visions, so she had to believe him now. Even if she desperately wanted not to.

  "Many would call it that, and it crossed my mind when I first met you; I'd assumed, when I disposed of Cortés, that you'd disappear into history, another name lost to the currents of time. I thought it better you not be remembered at all rather than be remembered as Cortés's traitorous whore."

  She winced. "A seemingly favorite word among you men."

  He bowed his head. "I’m sorry. I don't think you're a whore. I was concerned when I saw you caring for my ill wife, but once I got to know you...I didn't believe you were someone better dismissed and forgotten. I thought you had much to offer the empire and its future, and I wanted to learn more about you, find out what kind of person you are."

  "You mean to find out if I'm indeed the same treacherous whore you saw in the lake in Mictlan."

  This time Cuauhtemoc winced. "I wanted to know if I could trust you to help me bring us all together in peace, or whether you'd be a danger if you fell into enemy hands."

  Malinali held herself up stiffly. "And what did you conclude, Revered Speaker? Am I dangerous and should be put to death for the good of the empire?"

  "No. You fell in love with Cortés and were so blinded by it that you didn’t see the consequences of your actions."

  "But I didn't do anything! You keep talking as if I did all this, but I didn't. You can't say what my heart might have felt about Cortés and pretend it's true, and it’s not fair to judge me on things you thought I would do."

  "It's complicated—"

  "No, it isn't. You either believe what the vision told you, or you believe what you've seen me really do."

  His face flushed with anger. "You mean such as bewitching me with a love potion?"

  She clenched her fists. "Yes, I made the love potion, but I didn't give it to you."

  "You didn't?"

  "No!"

  "Why not?"

  She pinched her mouth, trying not to cry, but she failed. "Because I couldn't stand that the only way you would love me was to trick you."

  He stepped towards her and though she moved to avoid him, he followed her until she backed against the wall. He put his arms around her and refused to give it up even as she pushed back at him. "I love you, Malinali, even now after everything. I’ve always loved you, so for Mictlan's sake, why would you feel the need to bewitch me into loving you?"

  She'd hoped he wouldn’t ask. She hated the rush of anger and foolishness it brought bubbling to the surface, and she tried to hold it in, hoping it would go away so she could speak calmly, but when she finally opened her mouth, there was no stopping it. "Tayanna."

  "I don't know anyone named Tayanna."

  His denial inflamed the rage. She lashed out at him, pushing him backwards with all her strength, and when he finally let her go, she struck at him with her fists, and her words. "That slave girl I found in your bed the day Ixtlil came out to Chapultepec, the one you decided to take to your bed instead of me, after I'd spilled my soul to you about my parents!"

  Cuauhtemoc stepped away, warding off her blows with outstretched hands. At the back of her mind, she knew his gua
rds would burst into the room any moment and arrest her for assaulting the huey tlatoani, but she didn’t care. He deserved it.

  He finally got away from her and this time she didn't follow, too drained to do anything more than pant. "Why would you think I was with some other woman?" he stammered, alarm on his face.

  The rage gave way to tears. "Because I came to your quarters, to return the riding gloves you loaned me. I was hoping...foolishness, it was, but I'd really hoped that if we were alone again, without Ixtlil there to interrupt us.... I was so looking forward to seeing you, and your guards let me in as if nothing was amiss...."

  "And you saw her on my bed, completely naked," he finished, annoyed.

  His flippant response infuriated her. "I tell you one of my most painful secrets—the one you'd spent weeks trying to pry out of me, the one I finally felt safe telling you because I thought maybe you saw me as more than your slave—and you celebrate by climbing into bed with some woman who's thrown herself at you? And you ask me why I felt it necessary to make a potion to make you love me?"

  He glared at her. "Nothing happened, Malinali."

  "I saw you naked...with her!"

  "I was naked because I'd just come back from the bath yard. When I found her there waiting for me, I sent her away."

  She paled. "You didn't—?"

  "Of course not, because I wanted you. You're all I've ever wanted."

  She wanted to curl into herself and die. She turned from him and hugged herself, new tears coming, this time of guilt. "Cuauhtemoc, I...you have every right to hate me!"

  He stood behind her, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. "I understand why you thought I did that but...why didn't you ask me?"

  "Why didn't you ask me about the potion?" she fired back.

  He bowed his head against hers, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I should have, rather than drawing my own conclusions." He turned her face gently with his hand, tracing the new scar on her cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I should have trusted you, but instead I left you at the mercy of that man, and he nearly—" Tears clouded his eyes when he opened them again. "How could you ever trust me again?"