Ceyaxochitl's flotilla moored on the quays at the foot of the Sacred Precinct. Her warriors helped lift the dead and the wounded out of the boats.
'I guess I'll be going back to my household,' Neutemoc said. He grimaced. 'Mihmatini is going to flay me alive.'
I could imagine what words Mihmatini would have for us. 'Tell her you've almost died. That helps.'
'It never does,' Neutemoc said, with a quick, amused smile. He walked a few steps away from me. 'You're not coming?'
I blinked, genuinely surprised. 'No,' I said. 'My place is in my temple.'
Neutemoc said nothing. His face had gone as brittle as clay.
'Come to my house when you want, Acatl. I…' He struggled with the words. 'It will be less lonely with you around.'
My heart contracted to an impossible knot of pain; and the only words I could find seemed to come from a distant place. 'Yes,' I said. 'When my affairs are in order. Thank you.'
I watched Neutemoc walk away in silence. Next to the last of the boats, Teomitl was talking with Ceyaxochitl, punctuating his narrative with stabbing gestures. Giving a detailed account of what we'd done, I guessed.
They were both walking towards the palace. The palace, where Tizoc-tzin and Axayacatl-tzin would be waiting for their wayward brother: a brother who would one day, the Duality be willing, take his place as Revered Speaker for the Mexica Empire.
My work was done.
I turned away from them, leaving them to their conversation, and followed the warriors with the corpses, back into the safety of my temple.
As I'd foreseen, many things needed to be organised. Under my direction, the dead priests and Ixtli were laid in empty rooms, where the survivors could start the preparations for the vigils. The wounded were laid out in the infirmary, along with Ichtaca, though he seemed to suffer from nothing more than extreme exhaustion.
Once, I would have conducted the vigils. But instead, I made sure that everything was ready; then I retreated to the top of the pyramid shrine, where I browsed through the records of the temple, reading all I could about the dead novice priests.
Cualli of the Atempan calpulli, son of Coyotl and Necahual, born on the day Three Eagle of the year Five Rabbit… Ihuicatl of the Coatlan calpulli, son of Tezcacoatl and Malinalxochitl, born on the day Thirteen Crocodile of the year Six Reed… They had died for the continuation of the Fifth World; for what they'd always been pledged to. They were with the Sun.
But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. I bore the responsibility for their deaths, and I would make sure that they had not died in vain. I would make sure Ixtli had not died in vain.
'I thought I'd find you here,' a voice said.
Startled, I looked up, expecting Ichtaca. But it was Teomitl: still wearing his mud-stained clothes, still pale and exhausted.
'I thought you'd be at the palace,' I said.
Teomitl shrugged. 'Perhaps later. They'll be busy, in any case.'
'They'll need you.'
His eyebrows rose. 'How about you?'
I made a short, stabbing gesture. 'Me? I don't think so.'
'You saved the Fifth World,' Teomitl said.
'And I should expect some recognition?' I asked, more scathingly than I'd intended. 'I don't think I'd accept it.'
Teomitl laughed. 'You haven't changed so much, have you? Still loathing politics.'
I'd have to enter that arena, sooner or later. I'd have to second Ichtaca in the running of the temple, to take my true place as High Priest. But there were limits. 'Why are you here?' I asked.
Teomitl said nothing. He walked towards the altar under the impassive gaze of Lord Death. 'I have proved myself.'
'You should be glad,' I said.
He spread his hands, an unreadable expression on his face. 'Perhaps. But it shouldn't end here. If I want to take my place.'
His gestures were quiet, measured: the mark of an adult.
'Go,' I said, gently. 'Claim your place.'
Teomitl shook his head. 'Not without you.'
'My place is here.'
'I know,' Teomitl snapped; and for a moment I saw again the impatient youth who had first come to me in my temple. 'But I still need you.'
'What for?'
He laughed, bitterly. 'Do you think me wise, Acatl-tzin? Do you think me mature enough to handle the Jade Skirt's gift of Her magic?'
Startled, I said, 'There will be plenty of priests willing to–'
'Flatter me for their own gain!' Teomitl snapped. 'I came for you.'
Unable to see where I stood, I flung his words back at him. 'Do you think me wise? There's little I can teach you.'
'You know about magic.'
