Obsidian Puma (The Aztec Chronicles Book 1)

by Zoe Saadia

  “She told me… she asked me to send word to Ahuitzotl. I mean, she wanted to send word through me.”

  “Revered Lady!” This time, the correction was spoken in a cutting ice-cold tone.

  He quailed once again. “Revered Lady.” It came out as a pitiful whisper.

  “No titles for now, I said.” The Emperor’s voice rang with matching coldness, its fury unconcealed. “I will be asking this boy questions, and no one besides me. I will not be repeating myself.” The recipient of this curt reprimand tossed her head high and leaned back in her chair once again, her own eyes ablaze. “Go on, boy. What else did the Lady Noble Jade Doll tell you?”

  “She told me to watch… to watch the contest held on the Central Plaza, and then report it all to Ahuitzotl, so he would able to… to pass the word.”

  A decisive nod. “Go on.”

  He could feel his fellow calmecac companions holding their breaths, staring at him as incredulously as the royal family did.

  “And well, there was a competition, Revered Emperor.” Oh, but did this man say not to use the titles now? He bit his lower lip hard. “There were many hundreds of warriors and their emperor, he talked to them, encouraged them to show their valor and spirit. He said they were invincible, that even Tenochtitlan warriors can’t defeat them.” He remembered the gesticulating ruler upon the edge of the dais. “They shot their slings at the stone statue that was made especially for this occasion, in the likeness of a warrior, with obsidian sword and a shield.”

  Tlemilli’s lovely, animated, bubbling-with-excitement face swam into his view, giving him strength. Using her words, it was easier to describe the event. He hadn’t seen much of it, anyway, trapped, frightened, eager to escape. Until she came. Oh, but from the moment she had grabbed his arm, pulling him under that podium, into its dusky, slightly damp, chilling safety, everything became right again, somehow – right and worthwhile. And so, now it was her words coming out of his mouth and the warmth was spreading, banishing the fright once again.

  “The Emperor promised to reward the best shooter, slinger, or spear-thrower, but not before another competition was held. When the stone statue was shattered by the missiles of the slingers, it was replaced with a wooden statue, another replica of a man with a shield, wielding its sword. This time, it was to be taken down using mainly spears, hurled or shot from atlatls, but some warriors shot their bows as well.”

  He was listening to himself, fascinated like the rest of them. Where were those words coming from, pouring out with such eloquence, such confident skill? It didn’t seem possible. He wasn’t good with making speeches, not even back home, ensconced by familiar people and surroundings, liked and accepted, and equal to everyone, not a naked commoner to be looked down upon and manipulated into filthy lies. Still, even back home, he never felt like talking at length, not like some others who could describe even the most trivial happenings with plenty of flowery words, making people listen. Still, the memory of him and this lively girl running down the slanting alley, heading toward the shore where the rest of the competition was to be held, anxious to keep ahead of the crowds, lingered, rendering him with words he didn’t know he could use.

  “The closing part of the competition was to be held at the lake’s shore, where the contestants were to shoot the water birds in the flight. Hundreds of winged creatures were spooked out of the reeds, and the warriors again took them down using their slings and their spears. The sky went dark from hundreds of flying missiles.”

  “Do I remember that!” breathed Necalli, his whisper barely there, brushing against Miztli’s ear. He tried not to smile.

  “In the end, their emperor gave another long speech, again talking about the might of Tlatelolcan warriors and how the real enemy will be easier to take down, their flesh softer than stone, easier to split than hard wood with one’s spear, simpler to hit than a bird in flight.”

  But how did he remember all that? He couldn’t have possibly listened while being jostled by the excited crowds, worrying about both girls and his need to take them out and away, anxious for the calmecac boy’s safety, fearing the worst, knowing how ruthless these people were, how cold-hearted. Was he listening to the orating ruler’s speech in spite of himself? Or was it again Tlemilli’s magic? She felt so snug under his arm back then, so fitting.

  “Did he mention Tenochtitlan openly?” The Emperor’s face was not a mask anymore, his eyes alive, blazing with undivided attention.

  “He did, yes.” The magic was gone, dissolving together with the readily weaving words. “I… I had to get away by then. That man Teconal, he kidnapped Ahuitzotl and the calmec – Necalli, and I couldn’t… couldn’t stay and listen…”

  “He shot the sling, like I told you,” interrupted Ahuitzotl, more relaxed now, not as straight as an arrow, leaning forward with his entire body. “He took down the man who was kidnapping me, and he knocked out the one who was threatening to take Necalli’s eye out. He did it with two mere shots – only two! – each one hitting its target.” A snort. “That’s why he couldn’t stay and listen to that good-for-nothing would-be-a-great-emperor scum!”

  All eyes were upon him again. He felt like running out and away.

  “What district’s school you are attending, boy?” This came from the stocky man, the one who didn’t utter a word until now. He didn’t even move in his chair, only inclined his head royally.

  Miztli swallowed hard once again. “I… I don’t… I…” For the life of him, he couldn’t find something worthwhile to say. He couldn’t even understand the question. What district? What school?

  “He is not attending his local telpochcalli, Revered Emperor.” Necalli’s voice rang clearly, with no misgivings. “The craftsman in whose workshop he is working wouldn’t let him.”

  The Emperor’s face reflected no reaction. He felt the contemplative gaze lingering, assessing him calmly.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “T-Teteltzinco,” he stammered, wishing to disappear yet more ardently. But why were they asking him so many questions?

  The Emperor frowned, then shifted his eyes toward the man in the other chair. “What is this place, Brother? Where is it?”

  For the first time, the unperturbed man moved. Only so slightly, an imperceptible straightening of the back. “I’ll inquire with the advisers.”

  “It’s a village, somewhere out there,” volunteered Ahuitzotl, looking unconcerned. His eyes rested on Miztli. “Where is it exactly? Near what?”

  “Oaxtepec.” This time, he managed not to stammer, the boy’s friendly eyes giving him strength. “Where the tribute collectors are coming from.”

  Now the Emperor’s eyes flickered. “Oh, Oaxtepec! I see. This area’s tribute collectors certainly made sure to establish themselves among those warm springs and beautiful gardens.” Another nod indicated the man in the chair. “Our grandfather built there lavishly, water construction to irrigate and plenty of country houses. Our nobles do favor this area.”

  “Yes, they do,” grunted the man, sinking back into his previous state of impartial staring. “Maybe they should be watched for their activity. The tribute collectors certainly. This area is known for occasional troublemaking.”

  “With the locals shooting as accurately as this one without attending warriors’ school…” The Emperor laughed for the first time, a clear, uninhibited sound. “Oh yes, we would do better watching these areas.” The crinkling eyes rested on Miztli. “What else can you do besides spinning a sling?”

  “I… I can shoot a bow.”

  An appreciative nod was his answer. “A shooter, eh? Well, we’ll have to examine your skills, village boy; see how good you are with all sorts of relevant weaponry. I can certainly use more shooters among my warriors.” Again, the heavyset man was the recipient of the curt nod. “Supervise this affair, Brother, will you? Let Noble Yaotzin and the others examine this boy, see if he is worthy of certain investment, trained either by them or in one of the districts’ telpochcall
i.”

  “As long as he is in our calmecac, I’ll put an eye on him,” volunteered Ahuitzotl, puffing with importance. “I’ll make sure he does well.”

  “Isn’t this a high order for a boy of your age, Little Brother?” This time, the Emperor grinned quite widely. “You are the one who is needed to be put an eye on. After your last escapade, you certainly earned not a little supervision.”

  “I don’t need any of that,” cried out the boy hotly, rearing like a snake before striking. “I didn’t run away or make trouble. I spied on Tlatelolco and brought important information back. You can’t treat me like a child! I’m not little anymore.”

  Through this spirited protest that made even the reticent man of the second chair grin with the side of his mouth, the royal woman sat uninvolved, tight-lipped, and aloof, not partaking in her sons’ mirthful exchange.

  “I wish to hear more about my daughter,” she said when the boy Ahuitzotl paused clearly in order to draw enough breath to plunge into more speeches concerning his privileges and rights. “And I wish to hear what you intend to do about your sister and her unworthy husband, Son.”

  That put a stop to the mirthful commotion, with the Emperor sobering at once, disappearing behind his previous stony mask. His hands clapped only once, bringing in servants or maybe advisers and aides. It was difficult to tell with quite a few men flooding in. Miztli felt his own rigid muscles relaxing, his lungs beginning to breathe again freely. Was it over for good?

  “Take these boys back to calmecac, then return to escort my brother there,” the Emperor was saying. “Send Noble Yaotzin here and ask Revered Teohuatzin to attend my evening meal.” The pensive eyes rested on Miztli. “Place this one along with the other two for now. Until Noble Yaotzin makes a judgment. Do not decide anything concerning this boy without consulting me first.” The decorated shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Have all three of them ready to be brought back for more questioning. They are not to be allowed outside the school’s grounds for any reason, not until word from me or my brother comes.”

  His legs still not perfectly steady, Miztli followed the boys as they prostrated themselves once again, murmuring customary greetings of parting, ushered away by the groveling servants, a whole bunch of those. His mind was blank again, refusing to think it all through.

  However, as his legs carried him along the embroidered mats and past the lower chairs, the grinning face of Ahuitzotl sprang into his view, drawing closer, then stepping away again, slipping something into his hand in the perfect fashion of a smuggler. His fingers locked around the familiar edges, so smooth and glassy, so lustrously sleek. His heart made a somersault, then threw itself wildly against his ribs. The Obsidian Puma, gloriously slick and powerful, warm from the hand that had clutched it before, fitting in his palm perfectly, giving off its magic, keeping him safe. He didn’t remember passing the outer hall or even putting his new sandals back on.

  “Now you are in, workshop boy.” Necalli’s voice penetrated the haze as the softly illuminated chambers remained behind and the sun greeted them with its midday fierceness. From the top of the stairs, the view of the gardens behind the mosaic-covered patio was magnificent, a celebration of colors, with richly dressed people hurrying alongside it or just strolling casually, blending with the vibrancy of the carefully trimmed trees and beautifully laid flowerbeds, such intricate patterns.

  “I bet the school authorities will go easer on us now, brought back by the Emperor’s personal servants and all.” Axolin hesitated on the top of the stairs, observing the spreading view, clearly preparing for the feat of descending, his limp one of the worst.

  “Yes, let them show the prettier side of their faces now that the workshop boy is gracing this establishment with his skillfully-shooting presence.” Beaming, Necalli skipped a few stairs at once in a happy leap, his smile one of the widest. “It can be such a bore, this school business, but it beats the sweaty workshop for sure. No more slaving for this smelly craftsman, eh, Miztli-boy? Let the old liar go to the Emperor now, complain about your absence of more days and more damage. Maybe he’ll threaten to take the Emperor himself to the courts.” The crookedness of his grin made Miztli wish to chuckle aloud. “That would be a sight worth seeing.”

  “They won’t necessarily let him stay in calmecac, you know.” Axolin was limping behind, challenged by the descent. Miztli side-glanced him, puzzled. But was this one so very quiet back at the imperial audience. “All his shooting notwithstanding, if he doesn’t do outstandingly on the other counts, he’ll be shipped away to this or that telpochcalli. They teach people to shoot slings and atlatls in commoner schools as well.”

  Necalli waved his hand in dismissal, hastening his step to catch up with their escorts who had been lingering at the bottom of the stairs, shooting impatient glances. “He’ll do outstandingly. Won’t you, ItzMiztli?” A wink. “They won’t be throwing you out of that school in a hurry.”

  “They never received real commoners in there,” insisted Axolin. “He will be the first foreigner ever.”

  “More honor for them.”

  He concentrated on his steps, watching the intricately ornamented stones sweeping below his feet, too busy thinking to get incensed with the way that snobbish Axolin was talking about him, as though he wasn’t there. It didn’t matter now. The reality of what happened kept sinking in, making his head reel, his hand clutching the wonderful talisman, relishing the feeling.

  Was he truly out of old Tlaquitoc’s clutches, not sold into slavery, and not even forced to work in the workshop anymore? It didn’t seem possible, and yet Necalli kept talking about it as though it had been an accomplished fact. A school? What would he do in that place besides learning all sorts of crafts he didn’t know a thing about? Axolin was right. He would never make it. And yet…

  The sun was blazing strongly, warming his skin and his spirit. The Emperor, not such a terribly foreboding presence in itself, appreciated his Tlatelolco tales, it seemed, his saving the imperial brother from falling into the manipulative Teconal’s hands. Oh, but was it a lucky thing, to have this sling, in time and handy. He’d have to thank Chantli for that.

  The thought of her made him worried, still held in her nasty father’s hands. But shouldn’t they have tried to talk to the Emperor about that? Even if mighty rulers surely didn’t concern themselves with troubles of commoner girls from the wharves. But maybe through Ahuitzotl. The fierce royal pilli seemed to like Chantli. And Necalli too. But did the calmecac boy keep worrying about her, plying him, Miztli, with too many questions, anxious to hear that she had not been punished too harshly. Maybe together, somehow, they would manage to help her in some way.

  “What are you dreaming about? The glory of your future campaigns, oh mighty warrior with a sling?” Necalli’s elbow was again pushing its way into his ribs. He twisted away from it, his grin impossible to stifle.

  “Hurry up, boys. Pick up your step!” Their escorts seemed as though about to lose their patience.

  Their hastened their step obediently, still grinning.

  Afterword

  In the mid-15th century, Tenochtitlan was already a fairly dominant regional power, with many provinces and dependent entities, towns, and villages to manage. Their influence spread far and wide, even though it was still nowhere near what it would be only a few decades later, under the rule of the vigorous eighth ruler Ahuitzotl, who would conquer lavishly, stretching Tenochtitlan’s influence almost from coast to coast. Axayacatl, the elder of the three ruling brothers, was a renowned warrior and leader, but it was the youngest, Ahuitzotl, who would spread the Mexica domination truly far and wide.

  However, this story deals with somewhat earlier times. While our young ten-summers-old Ahuitzotl was busy sneaking out of school, getting bored, and looking for adventures, and maybe also gathering his future followers along the way, minor nobility and exotic commoners alike, his brother the Emperor, Axayacatl, was busy with the most known conquest of his rule, the conquest of neighboring Tlate
lolco.

  Unlike other cities, towns, and villages spread around the great Texcoco Lake and deeper inland, Tlatelolco, located on the adjacent island or even the same island, as some claim, were true kin, a sister-nation, the same Mexica-Aztec people as Tenochtitlan citizens were. Tenochtitlan’s partners in the Triple Alliance, altepetls of Texcoco and Tlacopan, were no Mexica. The first, Texcoco, were Acolhua, ruling eight other Acolhua provinces; the second, Tlacopan, was the remainder of the Tepanec Empire, ruling a few provinces of their own, the Tepanec ones. Tenochtitlan, as mentioned before, ruled farther and wider than its partners, and their Mexica nationality was exceptional. Besides them and this same troublesome Tlatelolco, no one else claimed to belong to the Mexica roots.

  According to the most widely accepted narrative, both altepetls were founded not so far apart from each other, in the first part of the 14th century, both suffering a fair share of contempt and oppression from the surrounding cities and regional powers. Some say they had been sharing the opposite sides of the same island; others claim that they had been two separate islands that had been united by artificial means later on, after Tenochtitlan had conquered Tlatelolco.

  However, before it happened, both sister-cities got along fairly well despite their rapidly changing circumstances. In 1428 Tenochtitlan was the one to participate in the revolt against the mighty Tepanec Empire alongside other subjected or just threatened nations, such as Acolhua of Texcoco or the dwellers of the Eastern Highlands. While the radical politics and the subsequent great wars rocked the entire Mexican Valley, Tlatelolco kept quiet and carefully neutral and out of the way, thus sealing its future history. Left out of the postwar dealings and invited to partake in no rich pickings off the fallen Tepanec Empire, Tlatelolco remained what it was, a fairly large independent altepetl that could not complete with the expanding giants of the Triple Alliance, especially the one in their backyard, the most ambitious, industrious entity out to grow and expand.