Servant of the Underworld

by Aliette de Bodard

  I reached out, to close his eyes, but my hands shook so badly I couldn't. It took me three tries before the glazed gaze was hidden beneath his swollen eyelids.

  Words came to me: the ones I said, over and over, for strangers. The only words I had:

  "You leave behind your fine poems

  You leave behind your beautiful flowers

  And the earth that was only lent to you

  You ascend into the Light, O Quechomitl,

  You leave behind the flowers and the singing and the earth Safe journey, O friend."

  I thought of his soul, climbing towards the Heavens to meet the Sun-God – for he had died in battle like a true warrior, and the oblivion of Mictlan wouldn't be his lot. I thought of his soul, shedding the body like a worn-out shell, and I wondered what he had died for.

  THIRTEEN

  Funereal Thoughts

  Between Mihmatini and me, we carried Quechomitl's body back to Neutemoc's house. Neutemoc himself trailed after us, still stunned and shaking. He hadn't spoken a word since thanking Mihmatini for saving his life.

  In the courtyard, an old woman slave and Oyohuaca, the girl who had rowed me through the canals, were seated on the ground, waiting for us. When they saw Quechomitl's body, they gave a mournful howl.

  "Master," they said, looking back and forth at Quechomitl's bloody husk, and at Neutemoc, whose Jaguar regalia were also covered in blood.

  "Later," Neutemoc said. "Take him to the temple for the Dead. Give him a proper vigil and make the proper offerings." His voice shook at first, but gained in strength with every word.

  Still oozing Huitzilpochtli's light, he walked, not into the reception room, but towards his living quarters.

  I glanced at Mihmatini. "How long is your spell going to last?"

  She shrugged. "Two, maybe three days? It's not going to be enough. Whoever got those to attack him will try again. And if they can't kill him, they'll try to harm those around him."

  Like Quechomitl. "I know. Can you do something?" I asked.

  Mihmatini puffed her cheeks. "I know a spell for warding a house against evil influences. It takes time to cast, but it's meant to last for a month."

  "If you could…" I asked.

  She nodded. "I'll go and get my materials. You talk to Neutemoc."

  "I…" I didn't think I wanted to do that. When the shock wore off, Neutemoc was going to remember why his house was deserted, and who was to blame.

  "Acatl." Her voice was stern. "You two have run away from each other for long enough. Go."

  "When did you turn into Mother?"

  She snorted. "All women turn into their mothers, Acatl."

  And all men into their fathers. But I couldn't imagine myself as Father. I couldn't be that old, embittered man who'd never forgiven me for not supporting him in his dotage – and whom I'd repaid by refusing to undertake his vigil; a petty, useless gesture that would not change the grievance between us.

  I found Neutemoc, not in his room, but in Huei's. He'd spread her jewellery on the reed mat, and was staring at it listlessly. The bloodstained jaguar head of his regalia rested against the wall frescoes, by a warrior twisting a noose around the neck of a fallen enemy.

  When I entered, Neutemoc raised his gaze, but didn't speak.

  I crouched on the other side of the reed mat, looking at Huei's jewels. Beautiful pieces, all: exquisitely sculpted jade in the shape of flowers and birds; polished necklaces with gold pendants; and a small obsidian mirror, reflecting my brother's wan face. I reached out to pick up one of the necklaces. Neutemoc hissed.

  "Don't," he said.

  I withdrew my hand, slowly. I said nothing; just waited for him to speak.

  After a while, he said, "You saved my life. It's the only reason I'm not throwing you out of this house. But I strongly suggest you get out, before I lose my calm and give you the thrashing you deserve." He clenched his hand. Blood oozed from one of his wounds.

  "Mihmatini strongly suggested that I talk to you, after what happened."

  I'd expected him to snort, but he didn't move. He was very angry, then. "You dragged our sister into this." He snorted. "Things still haven't changed, brother, have they? She's always liked you. I just can't see why."

  "Neutemoc–"

  His face contorted for a brief moment. "Our parents were right. You bring nothing but trouble."

  "Our parents were wrong," I snapped. "I made my own choices."

  "Leaving me to pick up the pieces," Neutemoc said.

  "You had the means to," I said, more nastily than I'd intended. The "pieces" were Father and Mother, after they grew too old to support themselves.

  "Yes," Neutemoc said. "But I don't see why I should have to pay for the choices you made. For any of your choices," he added, in case I hadn't understood the first reference.

  "Look – this time, there was no other way."

  "No other way? My wife gives herself up as a sacrifice victim, and you think this is a satisfactory outcome?"

  I shook my head, wondering how I could calm him down. "She tried to kill you."

  Wrong tactic. His face closed. "No," he said. "You imagine things that aren't. She's always loved me. More than I could bear."

  You fool. "So you destroyed your marriage just because you 'couldn't bear it'? How convenient."

  "We won't talk of my marriage here," Neutemoc said.

  "Because it's not relevant?" I asked. "Don't you think your marriage got you here?"

  Neutemoc's hand clenched again. "No. What happened to me…" His voice trailed off. He'd always been an honest man and a terrible liar, which explained how easily I'd flushed him out in my first interrogation. "Perhaps it had to do with my marriage," he said, finally. "But that still doesn't give you the right–"

  "There was no choice!" I snapped. "For what she'd done, the sentence was death. Death at the hands of the Wind of Knives, or at the hands of the Guardian's warriors – whoever found her first."

  Neutemoc spat. "And your solution was…?"

  "My solution?" I asked. "She made her own choices, Huitzilpochtli curse you! She was the one who went to Chalchiutlicue's temple and offered herself to Her," I said. "I couldn't stop her." How could he not see what Huei had got herself into: something far greater than her, which had ultimately swallowed her whole? How could he not see?

  Neutemoc's hands clenched. "So you had no part in this? How convenient. That was also your excuse for not becoming a warrior on exiting the calmecac, wasn't it: events beyond your control. Not good enough, Acatl."

  He had always known how to find the least of my weaknesses. His argument was, almost word for word, the reproaches Mother had kept addressing to me. "Leave the calmecac out of this, will you?"

  He smiled. "Because you think this had nothing to do with the calmecac, and what you've made of yourself? The brother I used to play with would have given his life rather than harm me, or any of mine."

  It was so patently unfair it didn't shame me. All it did was infuriate me. I raised my good hand, pointed at the wounds on my chest and on my arm. "You see these?" I asked. "I asked the Wind of Knives to spare her, Neutemoc. I pleaded for her life – I, who'd never allowed anyone to sway me – I made a fool of myself trying to sway a divinity that cannot be swayed."

  Neutemoc's lips tightened in grim amusement. "Yes. I know how unbending you can get." He rubbed his face, but didn't speak further.

  "I did all I could," I said. "But she ran away from the Wind of Knives, to the only refuge she could find."

  Neutemoc stared at me. At last he said, "A poor refuge." And, with a shock, I realised that the glimmer in his eyes were tears.

  "I…" I started, not sure what to say. Neutemoc had always been a strong man: going on, regardless of the circumstances. Even when he'd been arrested, he'd never broken down. "You can go to the temple, talk to her."

  "It won't bring her back to me, will it?" Neutemoc said.

  I could have lied to him; but I, too, had never been a good liar. "No," I s
aid. "The temple is the only place where she's safe, both from the Wind of Knives and from the Imperial Guards."

  Neutemoc didn't speak. His eyes were closed and he breathed slowly, heavily, swallowing his tears. His hands toyed with a small, broken obsidian pendant, heedless of the thin line of blood the edge of the stone was drawing on his palm.

  "Neutemoc," I said, "she made her own choices, and you can't go back on any of them. And one of her choices was to summon that beast."

  Neutemoc opened his eyes. "Tell me something," he said.

  "Anything you want," I said, and it was a lie. There were some things I would be incapable of telling him.

  "Did you know she was a sorceress when we married?"

  I hadn't expected this question, and it took me a while to understand what he was asking me. "No," I said, shocked. "You're mistaken. Huei was never a sorceress."

  "Then how did she summon that beast?"

  I sighed. "People came to the house. They gave her the means."

  Neutemoc's face hardened. "The same people who abducted Eleuia?"

  "Yes," I said. Possibly the same ones who were trying to kill him, although I didn't understand why anyone would take my brother as a target.

  Save for Acamapichtli. But the High Priest of Tlaloc wasn't a fool. He'd wait until Tizoc-tzin's attention was no longer on Neutemoc before striking.

  Neutemoc took a deep breath. He was obviously wrestling with a difficult decision. At last he said, "I want to join your investigation, Acatl."

  If anyone deserved to, it was Neutemoc. He'd suffered much in this, but I wasn't sure I could bear his ongoing hostility towards me. On the other hand… I'd allowed Teomitl to take part; I couldn't in all honesty deny Neutemoc for my own comfort.

  I laid my hands on the reed mat, a hand-span from Huei's jewels. "You're sure?"

  "Yes," Neutemoc said tersely.

  "Then you'll have to be honest with me."

  His eyes flickered. "I will. After all, I have nothing to hide any more. Or to lose, indeed." His voice was bitter, and cut me to the core.

  "Very well," I said. "You can help."

  He nodded. "Thank you." But he didn't move to touch my hands, and the set of his jaw said, clearly, that he hadn't forgiven me: that we were temporary allies, to avenge Huei and Eleuia and Quechomitl, but that we were not, could never be reconciled. And I wasn't sure I could ever be on friendly terms with him: not when his own foolishness had been the canker at the heart of his marriage, turning Huei into a stranger to both of us.

  "Do you know," I asked, "why someone would try to kill you?"

  "Apart from our friend the High Priest?" Neutemoc asked.

  "I think he's more crafty than this." The least you could say about the attack was that it lacked subtlety.

  "Then no," Neutemoc said.

  "Any enemies?" I asked, and thought of Mahuizoh. I'd forgotten about him in the rush to defeat the beast of shadows; but he had a prime motive for wanting Neutemoc dead.

  "Not that I know of."

  Neutemoc appeared sincere, but I still asked, "Among the Jaguar Knights?"

  "The usual resentment that I was elevated, not born into the nobility. But not, I think, enough to justify such determination."

  "Hum," I said. I would definitely have to meet Mahuizoh, if he ever came out from wherever he was hiding. But, if Mahuizoh was a sorcerer of such powers, how come no one at the Jaguar House, or within his own household, had ever mentioned it? "I'll enquire. Mihmatini is putting wards around the house, in addition to the protection she already put on you. It should keep you safe."

  "Safe," he repeated wryly. "Whenever did my own sister turn into a powerful priestess?" He didn't sound unhappy, but rather deeply puzzled, as if this were a wholly unexpected outcome.

  I shrugged, feeling as dislocated as he was. "When she started eating maize gruel, I suppose." It had been an ongoing joke in the family that Mihmatini had screamed whenever Mother attempted to switch her diet from milk to gruel.

  Neutemoc smiled, a tight expression that didn't reach his eyes. "I suppose," he said, and the moment of shared reminiscences was past.

  "I'll go to my temple," I said. "I've got some unfinished tasks." Such as speaking to Ichtaca before matters between us festered beyond recovery.

  Neutemoc nodded. "I'll join you later."

  I toyed with the idea of telling him to get some sleep, but decided in the end that only Mihmatini could afford that kind of remark. I didn't want to tear our fragile understanding.

  As it turned out, I didn't go to my temple immediately, because Mihmatini caught me in the courtyard, and insisted on my getting a proper meal. Despite my protests, I somehow found myself sitting next to her and the children, and facing a pale, angry Neutemoc who no doubt wished Mihmatini would stop trying to reconcile us.

  The dinner was brief and perfunctory. Despite the sumptuous dishes aligned on the table – fried newts, white fish with red peppers and tomato, agave worms and sweet potatoes – I ate little, my stomach roiling at the mere thought of receiving food. I tried to avoid Neutemoc's gaze as much as possible, and focused instead on what I needed to do. Many, many things, including having a heart-to-heart talk with Ichtaca.

  But Mihmatini forestalled me again, insisting I spend the night at the house.

  "I have other things–" I started.

  She drew me aside, exasperated. "They're going to come back. You know that. Do you really want to leave us undefended?"

  "You're good," I said. Better than me, I suspected. The spell of protection she had cast on Neutemoc – and now on the whole house, removing us from the sight of any foes – was intricate, and mastered by few. I was incapable of casting it.

  She shook her head. "I'm not good enough to keep him safe."

  My first, shameful thought was: Then let him die. Let my parents see that he's no better than me. But I couldn't hold that thought for long, not without remembering how I'd already let Father down by not undertaking his vigil. I couldn't do it a second time.

  "He's not going to be happy," I said.

  "Then let him brood," she said. "It will keep him alive."

  I didn't know what Mihmatini said to Neutemoc. She talked to him in a low, urgent voice, making a couple of stabbing gestures with her hands. He said nothing when I unrolled a sleeping mat in one of the spare rooms.

  Sleep was a long time coming. I kept seeing Huei's bitter, resigned face, moments before the Wind of Knives arrived; and in my dreams it turned into the wrinkled face of the ahuizotl, its eyes yellow and malevolent.

  Finally, darkness came and swallowed me whole.

  • • •

  The following morning, Mihmatini badgered us all into having breakfast together again: Neutemoc, the children and I.

  We were sipping some cacao laced with vanilla and spices when the young slave, Oyohuaca, came into the room. "Acatl-tzin," she said. "There is a man outside to see you."

  The man outside turned out to be Yaotl, who smiled widely when I entered the courtyard, followed closely by Neutemoc.

  "Acatl," Yaotl said. "I hear you've been having considerable success at the Imperial Court."

  "Ha ha," I said, unwilling to start yet another war of words. "Are you here to congratulate me, or to drop further obstacles into my path?"

  "Neither," Yaotl said. "I bring you good news." He checked himself. "Well, 'good' in a certain meaning of the word, of course."

  I was fighting a rising sense of frustration. "Can you get to the point, instead of taunting me?"

  "My my, we're in a bad mood today," Yaotl said. "Mistress Ceyaxochitl sent me. We've found Priestess Eleuia's body floating near Chapultepec."

  As expected, Neutemoc accompanied us. Yaotl made no comment; he spoke with me as if Neutemoc were not there.

  Chapultepec was a small town at the end of the Tlacopan causeway, west of Tenochtitlan. Sitting on the banks of the lake, the town comprised mostly peasants working the fields of the Floating Gardens, and a sizeable community of f
ishermen. It was with one of those – a grizzled man in just a loincloth, his face deeply tanned by the sun – that Ceyaxochitl was speaking. She and the fishermen stood by the edge of the lake. I couldn't see Eleuia's body at first; but then I made out the white shape floating in the fisherman's net.