Servant of the Underworld

by Aliette de Bodard

  A house of her own. Rooms filled with riches, and a status that would make most men and women envious. All she had to do was take Huei's place, or convince Neutemoc to take her as a second wife.

  On the other hand… Mahuizoh himself had all of that. Why hadn't she asked him for that?

  "You never married her?" I asked.

  Mahuizoh shook his head. "I asked. She didn't want to. She had ambitions, you see."

  "Higher than being the wife of a Jaguar Knight?" Teomitl asked.

  Mahuizoh smiled. "She wanted her own power, not something that was dependent on a husband."

  Hence the drive to become consort of the god Xochipilli. It explained Eleuia's life, but still not why someone was trying to do away with my brother. And not, either, why mysterious men would abduct and torture her. Eleuia's ambition had been unsuitable for a woman; but surely that offence warranted no such punishment.

  "Do you know why someone would want to kill her?" I asked.

  Mahuizoh shook his head.

  "She had a child," I said.

  His eyes flicked. "Possibly."

  "And you were the father."

  He looked genuinely surprised this time. "No," he said. "Wherever did you get that idea?"

  "From a reliable source," I said, wondering exactly how much I could trust the Quetzal Flower. No more, I guessed, than I could trust Mahuizoh.

  "I didn't father any child with her," Mahuizoh said, curtly. "Whoever told you this was mistaken."

  "And you didn't attempt to kill Neutemoc?"

  Mahuizoh looked at Neutemoc. My brother wasn't even paying attention, absorbed in thoughts. Mahuizoh's face, for a bare moment, twisted into a mask of hatred so frightening that I recoiled. "No," Mahuizoh said. "I didn't make attempts on his life."

  But he had taken far too long to answer. And his jealousy of Neutemoc, in spite of everything he had said, was obvious.

  "Why did you leave the city?" I asked.

  He blinked, slowly. "Am I forbidden to go where I wish?"

  "No," I said. "But with an investigation going on–"

  "An investigation," Mahuizoh said arrogantly, "that I have nothing to do with."

  A patent lie. "So you deny you had a part in this?"

  "Abducting her? Torturing her? Yes."

  "How do you know she was tortured?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "I heard the rumours."

  A convenient reason. Too convenient, maybe? It had only been half a day since we'd found Eleuia's body. How could he have known about its state?

  "Who told you?"

  Mahuizoh smiled. "It was all over the Jaguar House. Probably the Eagle House as well."

  "I see," I said. Though I was suspicious, I couldn't think of anything more to ask him. I turned to Neutemoc to see if he had any more ideas; but my brother was still deep in thought.

  With a sigh, I took my leave from Mahuizoh.

  Neutemoc was still thinking as we walked back to the Sacred Precinct. "He's right, you know," he said.

  "He's a liar," Teomitl snorted. "A liar and an honourless man, who thinks nothing of insulting his peers."

  "Yes," Neutemoc said. "But still…" He spoke to no one in particular. He refused to look at me, or even to walk near me. "She was cold when she first saw me. I had to remind her of the Chalca Wars before she'd pay attention to me."

  "And?" I asked, unable to resist a small jab. "She'd been through so many men she didn't remember you."

  "She remembered my name," Neutemoc said. "But it wasn't until we talked together…" He shook his head. "I wonder if he was right, and I had something she wanted." It appeared to bother him immensely. And no wonder, since it showed Eleuia in a wholly different light.

  "She wanted power over you," Teomitl said.

  "What did you talk about?" I asked.

  Neutemoc shrugged. "I don't remember exactly. Mostly about bygone times – the thrill of the battlefield, and how you'd wager every bit of your future, going into combat." The nostalgia in his voice was palpable: a raw hurt. Was this what he'd tried to regain with his affair: the sense that everything could be won or lost?

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. In the temple courtyard, Neutemoc asked, "What now?"

  I glanced at the sky. It was late afternoon, high time for lunch. "Let's get something to eat," I said. "And then I need to visit your home." I wanted to know if Mihmatini's wards still held, if the creatures had come back and tried to attack the house while Neutemoc was still protected by the Southern Hummingbird.

  Neutemoc's eyes blazed. "I told you–"

  "Never to darken your doorstep again. Yes, I know that. But do you really want yourself or Mihmatini to be attacked again?" I asked.

  Neutemoc shuddered. "No," he said. He wouldn't look at me. "You can look at the wards. But–"

  "I know. I won't stay more than I have to."

  Teomitl had obviously been fidgeting the whole time we'd been talking. Now he said, "Well, if you're in this for a while, I'll go back to the calmecac."

  "Won't they worry about your absence?" I asked. For a calmecac student, he was leading a remarkably careless life, never noticing the strictures the school was meant to impose on one's days and nights.

  Teomitl shrugged. "I'll get another penance," he said, with a smile. "Good day, Acatl-tzin."

  And, as he turned to go away, the golden light of the sun hit him full on the face – highlighting the hawkish profile, the high cheekbones, until the features that I had seen many times turned into something else. Tizoc-tzin's face.

  "Teomitl!" I called.

  Halfway through the temple gates, he turned, and there was no doubt. The resemblance with Tizoc-tzin was so marked it was hard to believe I'd missed it before.

  Imperial blood. That explained the unthinking arrogance, as well as the spell hanging around him. As a young member of the Imperial Family, of course he'd be under Huitzilpochtli's protection. Who was he to Tizoc-tzin, to Revered Speaker Axayacatl-tzin? A nephew, a distant cousin?

  Teomitl was watching me, his head cocked, impatient to move on.

  "Who are you?" I called, because I couldn't help it.

  Teomitl looked at me with incomprehension. "A warrior."

  "No," I said. I couldn't stop the shiver that ran through me. Who had I taken into a hunt for a beast of shadows? Who had nearly been killed by my carelessness? "Who are you? Tizoc-tzin's cousin?"

  Neutemoc's head jerked up. He stared at Teomitl with widening eyes.

  Teomitl's gaze moved from Neutemoc to me. His face was expressionless.

  "I'm his brother," he said. And, turning on his heel, he walked away into the crowd of the Sacred Precinct.

  Neither I nor Neutemoc had the courage to stop him.

  FIFTEEN

  Food of the Gods

  In Neutemoc's house, I found Mihmatini in the children's room, cradling Ollin against her chest. The baby rocked with her, making small, unhappy mewling noises.

  "He misses his mother," she said.

  "I know," I said darkly. Neutemoc wasn't about to let me forget that.

  "Is Neutemoc with you?"

  "In the reception room, I suppose." After Teomitl had left, Neutemoc had been silent, not even venturing a word on the way back. And I… I couldn't afford to think of Teomitl, not now. I couldn't think of how I'd almost lost the Emperor's brother, because I hadn't been suspicious enough of who Ceyaxochitl was sending to me.

  "How was your day?" I asked Mihmatini, to clear my thoughts.

  She shrugged. "I took care of the house, and of the children. They weren't very happy at being kept inside. But how else can I protect them? A good thing most of them are in calmecac. Can you imagine my keeping control over five shrieking children?"

  I shook my head. "Three is enough." Mazatl and Necalli were both in the courtyard, helping, with the intent seriousness of children, to water the flowers.

  Ollin had fallen asleep. Mihmatini laid him in his cradle, humming a lullaby. She'd make a good mother. If only Neu
temoc would start seeking a husband for her. Unlikely, given his present state of mind.

  "The wards?" I asked. For, after all, it was the only reason Neutemoc endured my presence.

  Mihmatini smiled, bitterly. "Come and see them," she said.

  The last light of the afternoon, golden, already fading towards evening, illuminated the buildings around the courtyard, throwing into sharp relief the painted frescoes of pyramid temples and star-constellations. The buildings should have blazed with the presence of magic; but almost nothing shone.

  I ran a hand on the adobe: the magic pulsed weakly under my fingertips like the heartbeat of a dying man.

  "They came back?" I asked. "The creatures?"

  Mihmatini stood a few paces from the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. "I suppose so. The wards kept fading every time I looked, and that's not normal."

  I suppressed the curse that came to my lips. "You should have–"

  "Called for you? You can't spend your time guarding us," Mihmatini said. "You have to stop whoever is doing this, not exhaust yourself fighting pointless battles." She'd inherited Father's pragmatism, although not Father's bleak moods, for which I was eternally thankful. "Speaking of which, any progress?"

  "No," I said. The only thing I was sure of was that Chalchiutlicue was involved, somehow. It couldn't be directly: for She couldn't act in the Fifth World without an agent. But I still didn't see why the Jade Skirt would want to kill Eleuia or Neutemoc.

  "Mm," Mihmatini said. "I'll rebuild the wards again."

  I sent to my temple for hummingbirds, birds sacred to Huitzilpochtli. It was with their blood that my sister rebuilt the wards, layer after layer. When she was finished, the house shone in my priest-senses like a small sun; and night was upon us.

  "You should stay here tonight," Mihmatini said.

  "I don't think Neutemoc would appreciate it."

  "Neutemoc is going to appreciate waking up tomorrow morning, and finding his children and servants safe," Mihmatini snapped. "Honestly, you two are worse than calmecac students."

  "It's not that simple," I started, unwilling to involve her in our quarrels.

  Mihmatini snorted. "It's always simple, Acatl. You're the only ones who can't see that."

  Neutemoc, forced by Mihmatini, accepted that I stand guard, but in the courtyard, nowhere near him.

  I took an ornate reed mat from one of the spare rooms, and laid it under the shadow of the pine tree. Then I sat in the darkness, and watched Metzli the moon climb into the sky. The air was hot, humid; the rainy season wasn't far away.

  Behind me, the house was silent, a far cry from the joyous place I remembered, the place of riches and warmth I'd envied Neutemoc so much. Once, I would have felt glad of my brother's downfall, but that was when both our parents had still been alive. Now… I didn't know what to think. He had ruined his own marriage – leading, ultimately, to Huei's impending death, and the destruction of the haven they'd both created for my nephews and nieces – and that I found hardest to forgive.

  The wards Mihmatini had traced shone brightly in the night. But, as the moon rose higher and higher and the dampness of the night worked its way into my bones, I became aware of a scratching noise behind the walls: like claws, scrabbling at the adobe.

  I rose, and laid my hand flat on the wall of the nearest building. Under my palm was the deep, familiar pulse of magic; but it was erratic, rising and fading to the rhythm of those scratching claws. And each time it faded, it rose a little weaker than before.

  Mihmatini had been right: whatever was on the other side of that wall was depleting our wards.

  I withdrew my hand, and unsheathed one of my obsidian knives. I knelt in the dirt of the courtyard and opened my veins, saying a prayer to Quetzalcoatl:

  "Yours is the knowledge of the priests,

  Yours is the knowledge of the stars wheeling in the sky You find the precious jade, the precious feathers…"

  A darkness deeper than night swept across the courtyard, extinguishing the moon and the stars in the sky. The buildings around me slowly receded into indistinct shadows, leaving only my pulsing blood, shining on the ground.

  The walls, too, became shadows interlaced with the network of our wards. Through those, I could see the creatures. They were, without a doubt, the same shapeless things that had attacked us on the previous day. This time, though, there weren't three, but at least ten of them.

  Eyeless, mindless, they swarmed around Neutemoc's house, scooping up the essence of our wards with their claws. They made a small, huffing noise as they did so: something that could have been breathing, were it not obvious that they had no lungs.

  In my time as a priest, I had seen many things – Haunting Mothers returned from their graves, beasts of shadows tearing out hearts, gods smiling as we shed our blood – but nothing, nothing was quite so eerie as these creatures' mindless insistence. I had no doubt that, in time, they'd whittle down our wards to nothing.

  What were those things?

  I knelt again and cut open my veins once more, to draw another quincunx, this time for an invocation to Mixcoatl, God of the Hunt:

  "You who come forth from Chicomoztoc, honoured one, You who come with the net of maguey ropes The basket of woven reeds

  You who come forth from Tziuactitlan, honoured one…"

  Power blazed across the quincunx, wrapping itself around me, sinking into my bones. The usual dizziness was made worse by my spell of true sight. I barely managed to rise after completing the invocation.

  I looked at the creatures again. They were still clawing at the walls, pressing against each other to feed on our wards. I couldn't help shuddering. Their mindlessness, their relentlessness didn't seem to belong in an ordered world.

  From their centre issued a thread of white power, so faint it was almost transparent. The threads joined, high above the creatures, in some sort of complicated knot: a spell of control. After the knot…

  I narrowed my gaze to see. Beyond the knot, the threads merged into one, and hurtled back towards the earth. I couldn't see where the spell ended. To do that, I'd need to go outside, to walk past those creatures. In principle, the spell of protection Mihmatini had cast on all of us the previous afternoon should keep me from their sight. In principle.

  I guessed they would pay no attention to me: they hadn't done so when they'd attacked us, not unless we stood between them and Neutemoc. But there were guesses, and then there was truth. There were blustering boasts – and there was Quechomitl's body, lying on the ground, draining itself of blood through his wounds, drop after drop, going deeper into Mictlan with every passing moment.

  I closed my eyes. Did I want to do this? For Neutemoc? For my brother, who could only fling the reproaches of the past into my face?

  No. For Huei, who had let herself be dragged into this. Who had let someone manipulate her, not knowing the price. Someone would pay for this. There would be justice: the only thing I could give her.

  I went to wake up Mihmatini.

  She was not happy. "You want to do what?" she asked, when she'd finished rubbing at her eyes.

  "Find the source," I said, pointing to the wall. "And you–"

  "Yes," Mihmatini said, curtly. "I should keep watch." She puffed her cheeks, thoughtfully. "I'll renew Huitzilpochtli's wards on you, just in case."

  I watched her trace a quick circle on the ground – Neutemoc was never going to forgive us for the mess in his courtyard – and start a hymn to Huitzilpochtli.

  "Coming forth in the garb of our ancestors

  You led them forth from Aztlan, the White Place You led them forth from Colhuacan, the Place of Deception You led them forth into battle…"

  Radiance blazed across the courtyard, as strong as sunlight. It sank into my skin, tingling with warmth, hissing as it came into contact with Mictlan's knives at my belt. I waited for the feeling to subside; for the protection to be complete.

  Mihmatini looked at me critically. "Hum," she said. "It's not really taken hol
d, has it? It's already skittering away."

  Unlike Neutemoc, I wasn't a devotee of the Hummingbird; quite the reverse, in fact. Mictlantecuhtli and Huitzilpochtli were opposites: the dry, wizened God of Death and the youthful War God could hardly be compatible. "How long do I have?" I asked.