by Zoe Saadia
“No need to get all flustered like that, man.” Necalli was snickering again, over his previous rage in this typical fast fashion of his. “You’ll faint or puke on the Palace’s floor. Calm down. Whoever wants to interrogate us here will not appreciate the stammering mess that you are now. He’ll sell you into slavery for offending royal ears and eyes.”
Axolin was guffawing too loudly again.
“Go and jump into the lake,” muttered Miztli, his face burning so badly he was afraid it would make the beautiful floor ignite. “I’m not stammering.”
“Eat tortillas and relax,” was the nonchalant response. “It might get scary soon enough. Who do you think wants to ask us questions, eh?” he added, addressing his calmecac friend again, sobering gradually. “I hope the royal pilli’s tales didn’t put us in a bad light, eh? That one is capable of wild embellishment to make himself look like the bravest of heroes.”
“He didn’t come out cowardly as it is,” protested Axolin. “If anything, he behaved like not many half twenty summers old would.”
“I didn’t say he was cowardly. Just that he can lie to make himself look even better.”
Relieved to be away from the center of their attention, helpfully friendly or not, Miztli reached for another roll, then froze. The men who had poured in through the doorway were meticulously dressed and stern, greatly foreboding. Four all in all, they halted at the doorway, studying the three of them with open doubt – measuring, deliberating. The calmecac boys straightened up but did not jump to their feet. Conscious of his crawling skin, Miztli did the same.
“Send a maid to bring in bowls to wash their hands,” tossed the leading man curtly, his gaze narrowed, penetrating. “Afterwards, bring them to the paneled hall. I’ll take it from there.” Another scrutinizing inspection. “Be quick about it. The Revered One may wish to see them soon.”
At least this time, he was allowed to wash himself, reflected Miztli, grimly amused, dipping his hands in the bowl of water in his turn, washing his mouth and chin quickly, concentrating on irrelevant things. The soft cotton of the cloth he was offered to wipe the water off, the calmecac boys’ atypical quietness – no more needling banter and no elbowing either – the way one of the maids was sneaking glances at him, openly curious. The extent of his true troubles he would consider later, he decided, much later, after the Palace’s interrogation was over. Oh, but what to do? How to face old Tlaquitoc now? How to talk to him? Was this man truly nothing but a deceitful snake, the shameless unscrupulous liar out to use his, Miztli’s, naivety and lack of knowledge, eager to exploit it, to work him into death and with no remorse? No, he couldn’t be that bad. He was anything but scrupulous and just until now. Or wasn’t he? What else had the man lied about? To Father too, maybe. Oh mighty deities!
The walk along the bright halls refreshed him, made his racing heart slow. One thing at the time, Father always said. Each trouble in its turn. No need to agonize over something you can’t confront and try to solve right away. Put it aside, deal with the more pressing issues. Not all at once, never this.
The thought of Father made his stomach constrict. What would he think about all this? Would he consider his son a failure now, the boy who couldn’t even stick to simple work in the workshop for more than a few moons, the place Father went to such great lengths obtaining for him? And what if his family still could be made involved, somehow, sold into slavery or at least harassed about it all? The ice in his stomach kept piling, interfering with his ability to think.
“Take off your shoes.”
The calmecac boys were already kicking off their prettily decorated sandals, readily at that. Miztli stared at their bared feet for another heartbeat.
“Do it quickly.” Another order, less cordial than before. He struggled with the intricate cobweb of straps, aware of the impatience surrounding him. But it wasn’t he who had tied those things at the first place!
“Now remember,” went on their escort, his lips pursing in open displeasure, “you prostrate yourselves when you near the Revered Emperor’s seat, at the edge of the mats you’ll be conducted through. Do not step any closer. After you’ve been conducted to the place designated for you, stay there and do not step forward or aside.” Another piercing glare focused on them; Miztli in particular. He felt his cheeks beginning to glow anew. “Do not look the Emperor in his eye unless he addresses you. Do not look at the revered person at all unless being spoken to.”
The hushed up harangue went on, laying out more rules, or rather restrictions, plenty of forbidden gestures or motions. His concentration vanished together with the recently gained semblance of confidence. It was impossible to remember it all, let alone to implement. And what would the all-powerful ruler do then?
“You may enter now.”
This came from another imposing figure, majestic in colorful dress and glittering jewelry. The calmecac boys followed this celebration of colors, quiet for a change. Then he felt Necalli’s whisper, just a brush of a breath by his ear. “He forgot to tell us not to break wind. So we can, can’t we?”
The rest of the walk he barely managed to complete, the splendor of yet another great hall lost on him amidst the worst stomach cramps, his facial muscles going rigid with the attempt not to let it dissolve into the wildest guffawing and worse. The prohibition to look up helped. It left his eyes free to concentrate on the softly carved tiles, then the intricately woven mats placed one after another. At the edge of those, he even managed to prostrate himself in the way his companions did, or at least close enough to it, bowing his head to the embroidered straw but not touching it, freezing in such a pose.
“You may rise to your feet,” said a deep voice, ringing clearly in the vast chamber, not rising to make itself heard better. A voice used to talking to vast crowds, realized Miztli, remembering the orating ruler of Tlatelolco. But did he encounter nobility aplenty through these last two days, he who had never seen even a tribute collector up close before.
“Come stand on those mats next to the podium,” went on the man on the elevated chair, brisk and efficient, matter-of-fact. “Here.” A wave of an outstretched hand indicated a long podium and two lower chairs, occupied as well. The bracelets adorning the well-muscled arm sparkled green, ringing lightly, bumping against each other. “Make yourself comfortable here, where you can answer not only my questions but those of Honorable Tizoc and Lady Atotztli.” A brief twist of the royal lips. “And of course our high-spirited adventurer Ahuitzotl, who will not be asking questions but probably answering those alongside with you.”
The regal head inclined toward the boy who was poised between the two chairs, not honored with seating arrangements, standing as straight as an arrow, his head held high. The sight of the familiar eyes and the jutting chin made Miztli feel better, bringing the memory of the wild laughter at the edge of the causeway. Even though dressed in a vibrantly embroidered cloak, his arms sparkling jewelry, and his head sporting an intricate topknot of warriors, his hair oiled and glistening, the boy didn’t look changed, his expression familiar, not haughty or indifferent, holding recognition.
“Do not be afraid or bashful.” The measured voice upon the elevated chair was speaking again, deliberate and calm, reassuring. “Your adventures in Tlatelolco are of an interest to me. Answer truthfully and with no fear. Do not omit any detail, even if it puts you in a bad light. If you do so, you will be punished. On the contrary, your truthful answers will save you plenty of trouble.”
Against all instructions, Miztli found his eyes drifting to the imposing figure, impressed. Like Father, the man knew to relay sternness without raising his voice or using threats and intimidation. Sitting with ease, not leaning on the tempting softness of the intricately embroidered and cushioned upholstery, Tenochtitlan’s ruler presented an impressive picture indeed, broad-shouldered and straight-backed, without a headdress to shadow the strong face, wide in its lower parts as much as in its cheekbones, with the forcefully jutting chin like that of Ahuitzotl. There was
much likeness between the two, besides the expression. The Mexica ruler did not look like someone challenging the world perpetually. He looked like someone who had already challenged it and come out victorious. Shuddering, Miztli took his eyes away.
“You.” The ringed finger singled out Necalli. “Tell us your name and your family status.”
The calmecac boy cleared his throat. “I… my name is YoloNecalli, Revered Emperor. My father, Tlilocelotl, has the honor of serving your illustrious grandfathers, both Revered Itzcoatl and Moctezuma Ilhuicamina, distinguishing himself and receiving many honors.”
The Emperor nodded calmly, neither impressed nor repulsed. It was as though he knew it all beforehand. Did he?
“You are attending the noble calmecac school along with my brother.” It was a statement.
He could see Necalli nodding, swallowing once again
“Tell me what makes a good student, an ambitious pupil as you must be, with such a father and an example to live up to, sneak around the Tlatelolco causeway, exploring deserted temples and dubious activities inside those.”
This made Necalli swallow yet harder. “I… I shouldn’t have done it, yes,” he muttered, licking his lips with an obvious desperation. “It was wrong, not an admirable thing to do, Revered Emperor.”
The Emperor’s mouth pursed. “As I said, you are not here to be reprimanded. It will be up to your school authorities to discipline you along with your friends and accomplices. Neither will my brother escape retribution. Do not mistake me. It will be done.” The generous lips pressed tighter. “While I appreciate your illegally acquired knowledge, I do not condone your breaking your school rules. A good warrior and leader does not break the rules his superiors laid out with great care and much forethought. If you wish to grow into worthwhile warriors, you will keep to the resolution of breaking no more laws. As the students of the best school in our capital, you can’t be expected to behave with less decorum than this.”
Now even young Ahuitzotl flinched.
The Emperor’s eyes softened. “Now I wish to hear your side of this story. What weaponry has been stashed in this tunnel under the temple and how much of it?”
As the calmecac boy went on recalling their first evening’s adventures, Miztli stopped listening, his eyes drifting toward the occupiers of the other chairs, a thickset man in his early twenties, pale and undistinguished looking, and a woman, not young but strikingly good-looking, her face oval and soft, delicate, pleasing the eye, even if her expression did not. Such a cold, indifferent gaze. But where had he seen such an expression before?
A light nudge in his ribs made him concentrate on the flow of words that had stopped for some time, his gaze leaping back toward the presiding ruler. Appalled, he watched the narrow eyes focusing on him, the thick eyebrows arching with a silent question, not threatening but not reassuring either.
“Tell me what it was that you had seen in this tunnel on your way back, boy.”
Now it was his turn to lick his lips, his tongue too dry to be of help, bringing no relief, the eaten tortilla lying heavily in his stomach. But what had he seen in the tunnel that the other calmecac boy didn’t? He should have listened to Necalli’s words, shouldn’t he?
“I… there were weapons, all over this tunnel. In the room that we had reached first, many weapons, clubs and spear-throwers, whole crates of those. Plenty of weaponry. And in the other corridor... tunnel…” He paused to catch a breath.
“Revered Emperor,” offered the ruler softly, his lips tugging in one corner, whether with a smile or displeasure, it was difficult to tell.
“Revered Emperor,” he repeated, aghast.
The smile won, an amused twist of lips, not reflecting in the watchful eyes, or maybe yes, just a little. “Go on, young commoner. Your knowledge is more important than your lack of manners for now. Tell us what you had found under the earth of this temple.”
He swallowed hard, wishing to disappear, to tumble down into the Underworld if necessary, if that was the price of leaving the Palace at this very moment. The smile disappeared, replaced by thinly pressed lips. No more amusement reflected in the strong face. He felt like fainting for good.
“While looking for his way out, he had found more tunnels, besides the one we were walking at first, Revered Emperor.” Necalli’s voice was music to his ears, the most welcome sound. “There, Miztli happened to overhear the smugglers. They were talking about additional weaponry and Tlatelolco nobility. Weren’t they?”
The fleeting glance made him snap back to life, encouraging, giving him strength. “Yes,” he said hurriedly, surprised that the words managed to come out at all. “Yes, there was this other tunnel, Revered Emperor. The people who carried crates with more weaponry were talking about it. About Tlatelolco nobility not being happy with the damaged goods.”
He saw the ruler straightening up, his eyes narrowing with attention. The heavyset man upon the lower chair leaned forward, making his reed-woven seat creak. Only the haughty woman didn’t move, her feathered fan swaying slowly, as though on its own.
“What else?”
Miztli forced his thoughts to focus. “These men, they were talking about Tlatelolco nobility and how unhappy they would be with the damaged goods.” But didn’t he say that already? The pursing lips told him that he did. He fought to draw another breath. “The men who kidnapped me talked about it too. Back in the boat. They said that the nobleman named Teconal would wish to know all about my spying on this Tlatelolcan hiding weaponry place and that the chief wife of their emperor would wish to know about it too.”
Now even the woman straightened with unseemly abruptness. “How is my daughter connected to this?” Her voice was unpleasantly harsh, ringing stridently, intimidating.
He swallowed his tongue once again, not sure how to proceed. It was what they said back in the boat, wasn’t it? Or maybe it was he who had brought the Tenochtitlan princess’s name up, desperate not to let them throw him overboard, struggling to survive. Well, it didn’t matter at this point.
“Go on,” said the Emperor calmly, still unperturbed, his voice encouragingly temperate. “What you say is enlightening and of importance. Do not omit anything. Try to remember every word of what has been said.”
He nodded eagerly, grateful. “Yes, Revered Emperor.” But was he lucky to remember to use the title this time! “In the boat, they didn’t talk much, but in the warehouse on the next day, this same nobleman Teconal came to question me. He thought I would know something. Because I had been in the tunnel, I suppose, sniffing around, as they said. They –”
“Teconal is the most abominable human being that ever treaded our World of the Fifth Sun,” declared the woman, breaking into his speech. It made him grateful, the opportunity to draw a deep breath while organizing his thoughts, what bliss.
“Please, let us hear the boy out, Mother,” said the Emperor sternly, a clear edge to his voice.
The woman pursed her lips and said nothing, her eyes mere slits, taking much of her beauty away.
“What did this nobleman Teconal wish to know?” prompted the Emperor.
“I… well, I suppose he wanted to know who sent me to that tunnel to spy, as they kept assuming that I had been sent to spy. And well…” He licked his lips once again, getting no relief. But he was so thirsty! “I don’t know exactly what he wished to know, as before he could come back, that other man, one of the kidnappers, he crept in and dragged me away.” To clench his teeth helped but only a little, the mere memory of that warehouse and the occurrences there making his back break out in a bout of cold sweat. “And well, it occurred that he was spying too, on… on the princess’s behalf. He took me to another place, where one nobleman questioned me and he sent for the princess to come and question me too.”
“What was the nobleman’s name?”
“I…” He racked his brains, desperate to remember – the memory wasn’t coming, making him cold with fear. Instead, his kidnapper’s alias kept surfacing. NexCoatl, Gray Serp
ent, an interesting name. “I don’t, don’t remember. Revered Emperor.”
“Leave the titles alone for now.” The contemplative eyes shifted, staring past him, very absorbed. “The name Tepecocatzin tells you something?”
He gasped. “Yes, yes! That was the name of the old man!”
The Emperor shook his head. “Thought so.”
“And you’ve been disregarding this noble person’s repeated messages,” said the Emperor’s mother reproachfully. “He has sent you plenty of warnings, taking the plight of your sister closer to his heart than you, her full brother, did.”
The suddenly fierce glare of the ruler cut the rest of the tirade short, making even the cold noblewoman subdued, leaning back on the upholstery of her chair, the nostrils of her delicate nose widening with the strongly drawn breath.
“Go on.”
This time, it was a curt order with no encouraging softness to it. Miztli clenched his palms tight. “Yes, Revered Emperor.” At least the title came out in time now. He collected his thoughts hastily. “Well, this nobleman Tepecocatzin, he sent word to the princess, I suppose, as later, she came as well.”
“You talked to my daughter?” Again, the Emperor’s mother had a hard time keeping her peace despite her illustrious son’s repeated demands. “You actually talked to her?” Her eyes bored at him, wide open, round with astonishment. “What did Noble Jade Doll tell you?”
He fought down a hysterical snicker, remembering the alternative nickname the people in the boat used, interpreting the word nenetl – “doll” – with its different second meaning. No doll, this one.