Young Jaguar, The

by Saadia, Zoe

  She swung the door open, knowing already he wouldn’t be there.

  “Where is he?” she demanded, whirling to glare at the boys, who had followed.

  Mecatl shrank away from her. “He… he went out for a while, but he’ll be back soon.”

  “Where?” She noticed she was almost shouting and lowered her voice. “Where did he go?”

  Mecatl dropped his eyes, his bulky figure sagging, cumbersome in the dimly lit corridor. Indecisiveness did not suit him.

  Tecuani moved closer. “Mother, don’t worry. He’ll be back soon.”

  “Listen,” she said, fighting a wave of rising panic. “Whatever you think he did wrong, I promise not to get angry. Just tell me where he’s gone. Please, tell me now.”

  Mecatl clenched his fists so tight his joints went completely white. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where he went. But he’ll be back soon, I’m sure. He promised. We’ve been waiting for him.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said sternly. “You know very well where he has gone. You worry about him because you know. Tell me!” She thought of the possibilities. “Did he go back to your calmecac, to argue with someone, or maybe to bring some of your things?”

  “Yes, I think he went there,” said Mecatl readily. Too readily.

  She peered at him. “You know more than that.”

  “Mother, he’ll be all right,” mumbled Tecuani in order to take some pressure off Atolli’s friend, she suspected.

  “Listen, just tell me where he is!” she demanded, unable to control her fear anymore. “This is serious, Mecatl. You are not children anymore; you can’t hide his whereabouts from me like when you were little boys. He may be risking his life, and I deserve to know. His father may be able to help, but we have to know what’s going on. You are not children anymore. He is in trouble again, is he not?”

  Horrified, she saw the heavyset youth covering his face with his palms.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I tried to stop him. He wouldn’t listen.” He straightened his gaze, and she was touched by the anguish reflected on the round, homely face. “I told him to forget it all and we argued, then he went off. I… I shouldn’t have let him go. But I didn’t think he would actually try to climb the Palace’s wall.”

  “He what?” She leaned against the wall, unable to draw a breath. “Why? Why would he do that? What was he possibly looking for?” She ran her palms through her hair. “Why?” She tried to make her brains work. “When did he go?”

  “I don’t know. He left my room somewhere around noon.”

  “It’s midnight now!” She noticed she was shouting again. Her mind seemed to be wandering through a maze of mounting danger, fighting a treacherous marshland, sinking deeper with every step.

  Trying to find some grip on the reality, she looked at Tecuani. “When did you see him last?”

  “I don’t know,” whispered the boy miserably. He was pale now, his eyes lacking their usual twinkle. “Mother, what is going to happen?” The large almond-shaped eyes, so much like hers, peered at her, glittering, but trying to hold the tears back.

  “I don’t know,” she said tiredly. “I… I think we’ll find something, some solution. I really need your father to come home!” She turned to leave, then noticed Mecatl’s bulky figure, leaning against the wall, his massive shoulders sagging, anguished, even pathetic. “Mecatl, I appreciate your telling me the truth. I… I know you tried to stop him. And then, you came here to wait for him, instead of just going to sleep. You are a true friend and… and I’m sure all will be well.”

  She patted the wide shoulder, standing on her tiptoes to reach it, seeing the brown eyes flickering with gratitude, smiling down at her thankfully. She remembered him as a young boy, he and Atolli, climbing each other’s walls, playing together, up to their usual mischief. Not as wild as Tecuani, but wild enough.

  And now… Now Atolli was playing much more dangerous games, climbing forbidden walls, trying to reach… what?

  She clenched her teeth and blinked away the welling tears. Tecpatl really had better come home, she thought with a surprising calm as she hurried down the wide stairs into the cool freshness of the night.

  Chapter 10

  Tecpatl eased his shoulders, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Texcoco representatives were talking on and on, blabbering in their flowery version of Nahuatl that he found difficult to understand. They were Acolhua people, a sister-culture of the mighty Tepanecs, and if truth be known, their dialect was not that different from the Nahuatl spoken in Azcapotzalco. Yet, in such late hours he had no patience for anyone, let alone flowery-speaking foreigners.

  The chief representative of Texcoco ruler was stressing the fact that, although Azcapotzalco warriors took the city from its original Chichimec owners, handing it to their Nahua cousins intact and almost unharmed as if on a beautiful pottery plate, they did not clean the area completely, so the barbaric Chichimec were still bothering the current, civilized owners of the place.

  Do we really have to do all their dirty work? wondered Tecpatl irritably, glancing toward the distant terrace, catching a glimpse of the night sky reflecting through the opened doors. He could not see the moon, but he knew midnight was nearing.

  Stupid Texcoco! Couldn’t they get organized enough to clean their lowland areas by themselves? Was it that difficult to keep the fierce Chichimecs from coming down their Highlands? Didn’t they have enough warriors for a simple raid or two?

  Tezozomoc, the new Emperor, would probably want to carry favor with his subject nations, so he’d concede, sending some of his forces to please their Acolhua cousins. Tecpatl hoped it wouldn’t be a serious enough raid to warrant the Chief Warlord’s involvement. Texcoco was such a long way to go, crossing the Great Lake, season permitting, by a fleet of canoes. Such a waste of precious time.

  His gaze swept over the masses crowding the throne area. Well over five, six times twenty men and still the place did not look crammed. He suppressed his grin, glancing at the gaping provincials. His gaze wandered, taking in the familiar splendor. Well, this place was impressive, no argument about that. They would have nothing as inspiring on their side of the Great Lake.

  I hope I won’t be sent to clean their areas this summer, he thought absently. I wish they would shut up and let us all go home.

  Sakuna might be still up, waiting for him. He felt a twinge of impatience. Trust her to be awake in these parts of the night, expectant, chatty, sparkling with life. And love. He suppressed a smile and banished her from his thoughts, concentrating on the foreigners.

  A slave tugged at his cloak.

  “Please forgive me, Honorable Warlord, but your leader of the warriors…”

  Beside the terrace, a tall warrior in a brilliant spotted blue cloak and a headdress stood overly erect, his eyes on Tecpatl. Amatl, one of his veterans, clearly had something important to say, if his facial expression was anything to go by.

  Tecpatl slipped away soundlessly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked reaching the terrace.

  The tall man shifted uneasily. “Honorable Warlord, I’m sorry. I’m not sure I should disturb you for something like this. We weren’t sure if the matter warranted your attention.” He shrugged. “There seems to have been a man, a stranger, wandering the Palace. Someone who had broken in. He got away, but the guards are sure he is still around somewhere.”

  “Well, it does not warrant my attention. Can’t they handle something like that all by themselves?”

  “I’m sure they can. I told them so. They are out there combing the upper floor.”

  “The upper floor? How did the intruder manage to get so far? They must have been really napping. I’ll make sure the warriors guarding the Palace this evening will be punished.”

  The veteran of so many battles, Amatl kept studying the beautiful marble slabs covering the floor.

  “There is trouble brewing,” he whispered almost inaudibly. “Not all of the warrio
rs are happy with the new Emperor.”

  Tecpatl tensed. “Go on.”

  The warrior seemed to shrink. “They are just rumors. I can’t say for sure. But we’ve been hearing things. Some say the Emperor is not the correct one and may not stick around for long. Some say the First Son is the rightful ruler for Azcapotzalco. They say such a man would be wasted on Coatepec. They even say Coatepec people may rebel and try to make war on Azcapotzalco.”

  “Ridiculous. Coatepec is a backwater. They have hardly enough peasants to feed themselves, let alone enough warriors to wage a war against the Great Capital.”

  “Unless…”

  The man was so focused on the colorful marble, Tecpatl examined the beautiful mosaic himself. Unless, of course…

  He winced at the thought. Unless they had a strong leader with a claim to Azcapotzalco’s throne, backed by our own warriors.

  He measured the troubled man with a glance. “I appreciate you telling me this. Keep your ears pricked for the next few days. I want to know more.”

  As he headed back toward his place among the advisers, he was aware of the twinge of anxiety and a surge of relief. He was correct following his instincts and not allowing Atolli to enlist into the service of the Emperor’s somewhat disgruntled brother.

  But what was their game?

  ***

  Pressing a wet cloth against his cheekbone, Atolli shivered. The cotton material helped to dull the pain, but seemed unable to stop the swelling. He could feel his face growing against his palm.

  Shutting his eyes for a heartbeat, he fought the rising wave of panic. He must have broken something in his face, something vital, maybe. He could hardly feel the damaged side, and that was more frightening than the pain.

  The plump maid Chictli had threatened to flay brought in a steaming bowl.

  “Take this cloth off,” Chictli ordered him.

  “It’s all right. I’m all right as it is,” he mumbled, having difficulty forming the words with his split lips. At least they had stopped bleeding, he thought, licking the salty crust.

  “You are not,” said the girl curtly. “Get to the light and let Kaab treat you. She understands such things.”

  As he took off the cloth and let the slave girl examine the swollen side of his face, Chictli moved closer, eyeing him with some aversion mixed with curiosity.

  “You really may have cracked your head, you know,” she commented. “What were you thinking?”

  “I know!” He hissed between his clenched teeth. “You don’t have to remind me.”

  “Well, what were you doing wandering around the Palace?”

  There was no way around it. “I had to talk to you.”

  She looked pleased. “So you got into all this trouble for a chance to see me?” She smiled smugly. “Not a very wise action. What were the chances of you finding me all by yourself?”

  “Well, I did find you.” He winced as the slave girl began rubbing his face with a cloth she dipped into a bowl of a smelly yellowish liquid. “Whom did you make piss into this bowl?” he asked, grimacing.

  “A slave. Does it matter?” Chictli giggled. “It wasn’t one of us, be sure of that. Too much honor for a troublemaker like you.”

  “You should have asked me to fill it,” he grunted, not amused. “It’s all right to clean a wound with urine, but I don’t need someone else’s piss on my face.” He glanced at the other bowl. “What’s there?”

  “A sap of maguey, of course,” said Chictli importantly before the slave girl had had a chance to open her mouth. “It is good for broken skulls.”

  “My skull isn’t broken or I would be lying here unconscious.” Why did she always irritate him so?

  “How would you know? You should look at yourself. Your face is about twice as large as it should be. And your hair is sticky with blood too. If we were at my quarters, I would get you to look at my mirror. It looks hideous and deformed.”

  The glance he shot at her was dark and threatening. “I don’t need your mirror. I can feel it.” He winced at the touch of the warm ointment. “So, if these are not your rooms, where are we now?”

  She looked around, haughty and amused. “Do you imagine me living in such place? I bet even your rooms look better than this.”

  He wished the slave girl would finish messing with his wounds, so he could get up and strangle her mistress.

  “Where are we?” he repeated instead.

  Chictli shrugged. “This is one of the guest suites. But it won’t be used for tonight,” she added as an afterthought. “So you can wait here safely.”

  “Will they throw Texcoco visitors to sleep outside?” He remembered the complaining warrior from the courtyard.

  “Kaab, bring this stool closer, will you?”

  The maid scurried off, leaving Atolli face up, his left cheek half-covered with warm sap and dripping.

  When she came back, she was dragging a small stool, woven from plenty of long, pliant reeds. Arranging her long skirt with a few elegant movements of her delicate palms, Chictli seated herself, looking royal indeed. He noticed her fingernails were long and polished.

  “I see you are well versed in the Palace’s activities,” she said, leaning forward. A faint scent of rosewater reached his nostrils. “No, Texcoco guests will get one of the better suites of rooms. This one is used for the minor, less important delegators. And sometimes the guards would sleep here.”

  Her nearness made him uncomfortable. He wished she would come closer, would be the one to tend his wounds. The thought stirred an excitement he wished to conceal at any price.

  As if sensing his awkwardness, she leaned closer. “So, what was so important to make you risk your life like that? What did you want to tell me?”

  He felt incredibly awkward, squatting upon a mat, his face tilted sideways. Especially now that she sat high on her stool, towering above him, royal on her throne-like seat.

  The slave girl yanked his hair back as he tried to straighten a little.

  Why had he come looking for her? What did he want to tell her?

  “I hope you did not change your mind about joining my father at Coatepec? It’s too late for that now.”

  “I didn’t change my mind.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I want to go. But my father is against it. He will not agree, will not give his permission for me to go to Coatepec.”

  “Oh, our Chief Warlord proves as difficult as expected.” She grinned, unperturbed.

  He didn’t like that. “Our Chief Warlord is not difficult. He is the bravest, the smartest, the most fearless of our warriors. His reasons must be good.”

  “But you are still here. Why?”

  “I… I still want to go.”

  She was pleased, he could see that. Her eyes glittered against the flickering light of the torch. A long tendril slipped from the fashionably pulled hair, sliding down her high brow, fluttering against the gentle curve of her cheek. He wanted to reach out and touch it. Unsettled, he closed his eyes.

  “It’s good you came.” The husky voice rang near his face, soft and warm. “My father will be here shortly. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Here?” He straightened abruptly, causing the slave to spill some of the ointment. “Not the Revered First Son surely!”

  She laughed, straightened up, and the magic was gone. “Yes the Revered First Son. How many fathers do you think I have?” Her grin widened, became unbearably smug.

  “Is he aware of me being here?”

  The slave girl pulled at his hair to make him lean back. He pushed her away, and she stumbled and dropped the bowl.

  “Get off me,” he hissed, glaring at her.

  She glared back at him, on her knees now, trying to collect the ointment off the floor tiles.

  “Mistress,” she called out. “Look what he’s done!”

  Chictli laughed. “Go away, Kaab. Check if Cho is back.” She beamed at Atolli. “You are quite a challenge, you know? Wilder than any barbarian. They should send you to Texcoco; make yo
u fight Chichimecs. Those savages will never know what came upon them.”

  ”I have to go,” he said, too frightened to get angry with her.

  “Calm down. Don’t panic. I agree you are not in the best of conditions to meet the mighty Emperor, but it will happen tonight. So make the best of it.”

  “Your father is not the Emperor.”

  “He will be.”

  He fought his rising panic. “Why would he bother meeting me? I’m not even a warrior yet. I’m not of any significance.” He swallowed. “How does he know I’m here?”

  “I sent him word.”

  “Why?”

  “What did you want me to do? Make you climb down and over the wall with this cracked head of yours? You came here uninvited, remember? Now you have to face the consequences.” She leaned forward once again, but there was nothing girlish or soft in her features this time. The large eyes bore into him, strangely aglow. “Many important events are happening all around us. Didn’t you notice that? And I think it’s time you grew up. You and your friend were used to climbing walls and running around the markets, I can tell. But this time you went too far. There is no going back this time, you see? The crime of breaking into the Palace is punishable by death. But you knew that, of course.” Her smile was as cold as the tiles of the marble floor. “You knew it, but you did it all the same. Well, now you can only try to make the best of it. My father needs good warriors. You will make such a one. But you will have to be loyal, completely loyal. Do you understand me? He may help you out of your trouble – I hope he will – but he’ll expect much loyalty in return. Loyalty and hard work, of course. You can give him both. Oh, you will be rewarded for these. I’ll make sure you will be.”

  There was a promise in her eyes. How quickly she was changing. One moment girlish and playful, the next – cold and threatening, then again, so playful his imagination went wild. He took a deep breath.

  “I can still climb down this balcony, you know?”

  She was taken aback, surprised. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Want to see?” He rose to his feet, slow and reeling, but managing not to fall.