"Acatl-tzin?" Teomitl's voice asked.
I raised my eyes, briefly, knowing why he was here. "Yes?"
"I–" He looked at me, biting his lips. "Let me come with you and Neutemoc."
"It's too dangerous. I've already put you in danger too much as it is."
Teomitl shook his head, half-exasperated. "I won't be coddled. I'm a warrior, not some old-woman priest…" He stopped, his face hardening. "I'm sorry."
At least he had the honesty to voice the warriors' prejudice aloud. "You're heir-apparent to the Mexica Empire."
"My brother isn't dead," Teomitl said, fiercely. "Tizoc is still Master of the House of Darts."
"He's very ill," I said. "Lord Death waits for him. And when that moment comes–"
"It hasn't come." He held himself straight, impatiently. "I have to prove myself. You'd deny me that?"
Ceyaxochitl had asked me the same question. I made him the same answer. "I'm not your testing ground," I said.
"I'm not asking you to be," he snapped. "Just to let me have my chance. You heard Mahuizoh. 'An unbloodied pup'. That will be all they think of me, at the Imperial Court. By your doing."
The accusation, as unfair as it was, didn't ring quite true in his mouth. "It's not the Court you're trying to impress," I said. "Nor was it the Court you thought of when you followed Eleuia."
Teomitl said nothing. He watched me, one hand on his macuahitl sword. "No," he said. "But it doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't it?" I finished packing my bag, and laid it aside.
He met my gaze squarely. "Let me come. Or I'll be as nothing."
"To whom?" I asked.
"To her," he snapped, throwing the pronoun into the air like an offering to a god. "Who else?"
I didn't move. I simply asked, "Her?"
"Huitzilxochtin," Teomitl said. "My mother." When I still didn't speak, he said, "She was strong and she fought to the end, but it was all for nothing. She died bearing me. And I–" His voice was bitter. "I am nothing. I have no great battles behind me, nor feats of arms."
"Battle isn't the only way to prove yourself," I said, finally. But in my mind were my parents' voices, whispering about how wrong I was, how there was no glory, no honour outside the battlefield. About how I'd failed. "And where we're going… That's no battlefield."
Teomitl smiled. "There are battles everywhere," he said. "You just have to know where to look."
I'd forgotten the ease with which he could take control of a conversation. "That doesn't change anything. I can't risk your life."
"It's not yours to risk," Teomitl said. He didn't sound as angry as he'd been. Just thoughtful. "It's mine, and I do what I want with it."
"I–" I said.
"Is it so hard? You let me come, when you thought I was a calmecac student. Nothing has changed. We're still the same."
Why couldn't he see that everything had changed? "I can't be your testing ground," I repeated. I couldn't face the repercussions of taking him with us. What if Axayacatl-tzin died tonight, and Tizoc-tzin became Revered Speaker? I'd have endangered the life of the heir-apparent.
Teomitl watched me for a while, his brown eyes shrewd. Behind him, in the courtyard of the Duality House, the rain fell in a steady patter – the Storm Lord's magic slowly, steadily seeping into the earth. "Why? It's a simple thing."
He was wrong. Things were never that simple. "I can't. Let someone else…"
I met his eyes – my apprentice Payaxin's eyes, eager to do what was right – and I realised what I was saying. Let someone else shoulder this burden. Let me go on as if nothing had changed. It was fear that made me say that: fear and nothing else. But I was no coward. No warrior – there were some things for which I would never find the courage – but no coward.
"Very well," I said, finally. "You can come."
We stopped to see Mihmatini briefly. She'd followed Neutemoc's household into one of the Duality House's vast rooms. Reed mats were spread on the floor; both Mazatl and Ollin were already asleep. Mihmatini sat cross-legged against the wall. Over her was a fresco depicting the Duality's Heaven. Under the gaze of the fused lovers, a tree grew out of the waters, the shadowy souls of babies clinging to its trunk as if to their mothers' breasts. Dead babies: the Duality's Heaven was the only place that would re ceive the souls of unweaned children, preserving them until they could be reborn.
Dead babies. I was reminded, uneasily, of the bones in Ceyaxochitl's possession, and of the god-child we were seeking.
Mihmatini, oblivious to my thoughts, smiled tiredly at me. I couldn't help noticing, though, that her brightest smile was reserved for Teomitl, who had followed us into the room.
Neutemoc stopped to stroke Ollin's forehead: the baby's face shifted, and settled into a pleased smile. Neutemoc's face, a careful mask, cracked. He knelt by his son's cradle, and watched him sleep, his lips moving to whisper a mournful lullaby.
Sweat had stained Mihmatini's cotton shirt, and the dark circles under her eyes were, if anything, more accented.
"Get some sleep," I said. "Don't worry."
"I am worrying," Mihmatini said, tartly. "You'd have to be a fool not to, with that rain."
"It's dangerous," Teomitl said.
"You can feel it?" I asked Mihmatini.
She shook her head. "I'm not sensitive enough. Yaotl told me."
"Yaotl," I said, not quite over my rancour yet, "interferes with what doesn't concern him."
She smiled. "Don't we all?" Without waiting for my answer, she turned to watch Neutemoc, who was still kneeling by Ollin's cradle.
"He tries so hard to be a good head of his household," she said, with a sigh.
Something unnameable shifted in my chest, until I could hardly breathe. "Yes," I said, finally. "But the way he behaved towards Huei…"
Mihmatini didn't answer at once. Her face had grown dark. "Let's forget Huei for the moment."
I couldn't. "We'll be going out again," I said, finally.
Mihmatini shifted. "Then I'll renew the protection spells on you. Although they really don't hold on you, Acatl. And you–" She looked at Teomitl. "You definitely don't need me to cast a spell on you."
Teomitl's face fell. "You're sure?" he asked. "Another kind of spell, perhaps?"
Mihmatini suppressed a smile. "Men," she said, shaking her head, but she didn't sound angry. Quite the contrary, in fact.
There would be time to work this out later, if we survived.
Once Mihmatini finished casting the spell, we went back into the streets. By then, it was raining heavily. Storm clouds had drowned the sun, and the light falling on the Sacred Precinct was as weak as that of evening, even though it was barely noon.
Teomitl took the lead, filled with his boundless energy. In the gloom, his spell of protection shone like a beacon: a much, much stronger construction that the ones Mihmatini had laid on us.
As we walked, raindrops fell on our clothes, mingling with our hair. With each drop, the protection lessened. I could feel it fading away, a vanishing itch on my skin. Teomitl's protection, though, did not show any sign of corruption. Here, if nowhere else, Huitzilpochtli's power ran strong. We went south, towards the district of Moyotlan and the temple of Chalchiutlicue, making a wide loop to avoid Neutemoc's house and the creatures that would be congregating there.
Finding a boat to take us to the temple was a simple matter: even with the pouring rain, the fishermen were used to taking worshippers to the island. The rain fell unceasingly, until the world above and below seemed to be made of water: an opaque curtain that joined the murky lake under the boat to the clouds above our heads. And every drop, charged with magic, burnt like acid.
"A good time for sacrificing to the goddess," the fisherman said.
"Yes," Neutemoc said, curtly.
Teomitl's face was set in a grimace; he stared at the water. "A good time to remember the old gods."
I had no wish to join the conversation. I sat at the prow of the boat, keeping an eye on the waters of the l
ake. There was something swimming by our side: something sleek and dark, with a tail that spread out, opening like a flower… As the waters parted under the boat's keel, I heard, with a growing horror, the song of the ahuizotl, rising from the depths of the lake.
"Go forth, go forth to the place of many clouds
To where the thick mists mark the Blessed Land
The verdant house…"
No. I threw myself away from the edge. The boat rocked alarmingly, almost sending us into the water, towards the yellow eyes waiting for us.
With a curse, Neutemoc steadied the craft. "What in the Fifth World are you playing at?" he hissed. "We almost fell into the water."
I knew. The Duality curse me, I knew. I could still see those eyes at the bottom of the lake; and that oddly shaped tail, lashing out towards me. Even through the murk, I'd seen it clearly. It had had the shape of a small, clawed hand: the same hand that had left the scratching marks near Eleuia's empty eye-sockets. My eyes itched, and I felt sick.
The fisherman looked at the water, then back at me. "Leave him be," he said to Neutemoc. "There's evil afoot today."
How perceptive. Ahuizotls. My heart was beating madly in my chest. Well, we didn't have to worry about the Jade Skirt. She knew we were coming.
NINETEEN
The Drowned Ones
The ahuizotl remained in the lake, though its dark shape followed us as we walked around the shore to enter the temple.
To my surprise, there was no priest on watch at the temple entrance. But, in the courtyard, Eliztac himself was waiting for us, his soaked plume of heron feathers drooping on his head.
He grimaced when he saw us. "You shine like wildfires. I presume you're not here to pay homage to Chalchiutlicue."
"In a manner of speaking," I said, cautiously. "We need help."
Eliztac's eyes wandered from Teomitl to Neutemoc. My brother wasn't in Jaguar regalia, but his rigid stance could only belong to a warrior. And the Duality knew what Eliztac made of Teomitl, who currently radiated light like Tonatiuh Himself.
"I think I already told you–" he started.
"We're not here to see her," I said.
As I'd foreseen, Neutemoc stiffened. "Acatl," he said, warningly. "Don't tell me–"
"It was the closest temple," I snapped. And, without waiting for his answer, I said to Eliztac: "I need to get into Tlalocan, into Chalchiutlicue's Meadows."
His eyebrows rose. He looked upwards, at the rain. "Magical water. A bit of an odd season," he said. His gaze was shrewd. He had to see how each drop attacked our protection. "I presume you're seeking guidance."
"In a manner of speaking," I said, again. "But it's urgent."
Eliztac's gaze was sarcastic. "What isn't?" he said. "Very well. If you'll swear to me you're not here to see her, I'll let you in."
It was Neutemoc who spoke. "No," he said. "I won't swear to that." His face was pale, leached of all colours by the darkness, and the rain fell on his cheeks like tears.
Eliztac started to say something; but Neutemoc forestalled him. "I'll see my wife," he said. "And don't think you can prevent me."
Eliztac took us through a first courtyard, and then into a smaller one, closer to the heart of the building. Everything, from the painted adobe walls to the beaten earth under our sandals, shimmered with magic: a thick covering of wards against which the raindrops slid, and became normal water again.
Teomitl had also noticed it. "It's different in here," he said.
Eliztac barely turned. "This place is under the gaze of the goddess," he said. "This way."
At the far end of the courtyard, he stopped before the door of a room, its entrance-curtain decorated with a heron in flight and patterns of seashells.
"I can make my own way," Neutemoc said.
"I have no doubt you can," Eliztac said, gravely. "But I can't leave you alone here."
Neutemoc drew himself up. "Do you think I'll try to take their dues from the gods?"
"I have seen many men do many things," Eliztac said. "Not all of which contributed to the continuation of the Fifth World."
Neutemoc's face darkened. "You–"
He hadn't been in a good mood for a while. I could understand why, but it might all have ended badly if someone hadn't lifted the entrance-curtain. The tinkle of bells spread between Neutemoc and Eliztac, stopping them dead.
It was Huei, as I had never seen her: her face painted white, lips greyed, her unbound hair falling onto her shoulders in a cascade of darkness. Her shift, too, was white, as if it had already been time for her sacrifice.
My heart tightened in my chest.
"Neutemoc." She turned, slightly, towards me. "Acatl. What a surprise." Her voice was ironic. Behind her, a green-clad attendant closed the curtain and moved closer to her, in protection.
Neutemoc's hands had clenched into fists. "You had to know I'd come."
"I'd almost given up hope that you'd make it out of your cage." Under the white makeup, her face was expressionless; but in her eyes shone tears. "But I'm sure you're not here for my health."
"Why, Huei?" Neutemoc asked, the question bursting out of him before he could hold it back.
"No one can be cheated of their dues," Huei said. "Gods, goddesses, wives…"
I felt embarrassed, as I had when they'd started quarrelling in front of me; as if the masks had fallen, revealing the faces of mortals instead of gods. Standing between them wasn't my place. It would never be. "I think we shouldn't be here," I said, pushing Teomitl away from Neutemoc.
"Do stay," Huei said, and the irony in her voice was as frightening as any ahuizotl. "You're involved, after all, aren't you?"
Teomitl and Eliztac, luckier than me, were discreetly withdrawing to the other end of the courtyard. I spread my hands, trying to contain my frustration. "I didn't cause anything that you didn't already start. You should have known the consequences of what you did." Both of them.
Huei said nothing for a while. "They didn't tell me."
"The commander?" I asked.
She looked at me, surprised. "Yes. He and his second-incommand. How did you know?"
"He told us," I said, curtly. "And he's dead now."
Huei's hands clenched into fists. "I see. It doesn't matter." She said to Neutemoc, in a lower voice, "But you couldn't see what was happening, could you?"
He looked at her, for a while. His face was unreadable. "The gods give, and the gods take away."
"Still your old excuse?" Huei crossed her arms over her chest. "Everything dies, Neutemoc. That's no reason to detach yourself from what's yours. That's no reason to abandon me or your children."
Neutemoc's face was white. "You've seen how easily everything can tumble."
"Then things are all the more precious, aren't they?" She shook her head. "You can't armour yourself against loss, Neutemoc. That doesn't work."
"I've seen," he said, stiffly. "But still–" His voice was low. "I almost lost you to childbirth. Twice. How can I love what can't last?"
"Everyone does," Huei said. Her voice was sad. "And lust won't make you forget."
"No," Neutemoc said. "It will not. We agree on that, if on nothing else." His lips tightened around an unseen obstacle.
Huei looked at him for a while. "No matter," she said, with a sigh. "What's done is done. I have no regrets."
"You sought to kill him," I said, softly, not knowing what else to say.
"Yes," she said, defiant. "Because he left me no choice."
Feeling more and more of an intruder, I started slowly retreating. Neither of them made a gesture to stop me.
Neutemoc didn't move. He shook his head, once, twice. "The children miss you," he said, finally.
Huei stood, tall and proud, as she had in her own household. "I've made my choices."
I joined Eliztac and Teomitl at the other end of the courtyard. If Neutemoc said something more to Huei, I didn't hear it. How could they both have been so foolish – too blind to see the consequences of their acts, in spite
of what Huei had blithely affirmed?
Once it had been established not only that I hadn't been there to coerce Huei into leaving but that I'd brought her husband to see her, Eliztac became more helpful. He probably thought our request to go into Chalchiutlicue's Meadows was a crazy endeavour: two warriors – a far cry from the peasants the Storm Lord and his wife favoured – and a priest of Mictlan, whose magic was anathema to life. The equivalent of mice trying to walk through an eagle's eyrie. But, after all, as he said, our lives were our own.
He led us into a smaller room, with a discreet altar to the Jade Skirt. The room was dark, illuminated only by the flames of a brazier, and filled with the wet, earthy smell of churned mud. A limestone statue of the goddess stood behind the altar: a woman with braids and a shawl with green tassels, opening out Her hands to encompass all of the Fifth World.
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