'It's not really going to get better as time passes,' I said.
He shook his head, a little sadly. 'No. Men have always loved power. I've seen many things in my years, Acatl-tzin.'
His name was Echichilli, and he was Master of Raining Blood, keeper of the rites and ceremonies, another watcher who made sure the balance was respected. He was a risen noble – a man who had joined the council on battle prowess and not birth – and he insisted on calling me by the honorific 'tzin', even though he was my superior both in position and in years. In many ways, he reminded me of my old mentor, a man long since dead. In other circumstances, I might have been glad to call him a friend.
'I need to know what's happening,' I said.
He merely shook his head again. 'The Turquoise-and-Gold Crown is a powerful lure, and there are many factions.'
'One of them killed Ocome.'
He closed his eyes for a brief moment and his face pulled up in genuine grief. 'I know. But I can't help you there, Acatl-tzin.'
'Can't,' I said, 'because you don't know, or because you don't want to?'
He looked at me, thoughtful. 'He bent the way of the wind, and made many enemies. His death isn't surprising.' And that was all he would say, no matter how hard I pressed him.
It was predictable, but neither Quenami nor the She-Snake were of much use – beyond the latter's oral confirmation that he was indeed setting himself up as a potential candidate for the Turquoiseand-Gold Crown, an admission made with a shrug of his shoulders, looking me in the eye as if it was the most natural thing.
As to his quarrel with Ocome, the She-Snake admitted it in much the same careless fashion, in such an uninvolved way that, in spite of knowing how good an actor he was, I still found it very hard to believe he cared about Ocome at all – about his vote, or indeed about the man. It was as if Ocome had been too small, too petty to even register in the She-Snake's field of view.
By the time I wrapped up the last abortive interview, evening had fallen. The stars shone in the sky, larger and more luminous than the night before, an unwelcome reminder of the chaos and devastation that would lie ahead if we didn't act soon.
After a brief and very much belated meal, I was speaking with Manatzpa about possible security measures, up to and including the use of Duality spells, when the noise of a commotion reached us, loud voices and angry tones, coming from one of the nearby courtyards. Given the funereal quiet of the palace, that was surprising…
'Acatl-tzin,' Manatzpa said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. 'You'll want to head over there.'
'I don't understand…'
And then I caught a familiar voice, raised in withering anger.
Teomitl.
What in the Fifth World had he got himself embroiled into this time?
He was easy enough to find: the noise came from the Imperial Chambers, at the entrance of which had gathered a crowd of curious onlookers; noblemen made idle by the absence of the court, wearing all their jade and feather finery, a mass of protective spells jostling each other on the narrow adobe staircase leading up to the terrace.
The She-Snake and his guards were pushing them back, attempting to maintain order within the palace, but curiosity was the worst emotion to hold at bay.
Snatches of the argument drifted my way, '…as weak as a dog…', 'deceived us…'
I had no idea what was going on, but obviously my place was upstairs, before Teomitl committed the irreparable.
I slashed my earlobes, muttered a brief prayer to my patron Mictlantecuhtli, and let the cold of the underworld spread like a cloak around me – the keening of ghosts, the embrace of Grandmother Earth, the descent into flowing waters, the freezing winds atop the Mountains of Obsidian and the ultimate cold, the one that seized the souls in the presence of Lord Death and His consort.
Thus armed, I pushed my way through the crowd. The protective spells hissed and faded away at my touch, and more than one nobleman grimaced as the cold, skeletal fingers of Lord Death settled on the back of their neck, a reminder of the fate that awaited them should they fail to die in battle or on the sacrificial altar.
The She-Snake nodded grimly at me as I cleared the top of the stairs, an unspoken acknowledgment that I was responsible for my student, and that this was the only reason his guards were letting me pass.
Inside, the body of Axayacatl-tzin looked intact – a relief, I had feared the worst. My priests had scattered to the corners of the room, with the pale faces of the powerless. The offering priest Palli, who had been in charge of the ritual, stood a little to the side with his hands clenched, trying to decide if he should intervene.
At the centre before the reed mat stood two men, glaring at each other like warriors about to launch into battle.
One, as was already clear, was Teomitl, with the harsh cast of the goddess Jade Skirt subtly modifying his features, and one hand already on his
I couldn't stand Quenami, but I had to admit he had a point about the power of entrances. I released the curtain with as much force as possible, sending the silver-bells sewn in it crashing into each other, a noise that could not be ignored. Only then did I stride into the room to confront them.
They had both turned to face me with murder in their eyes. I might have shrunk before their combined might, if I had not been so angry. 'What in the Fifth World do you think you're doing?' I asked, looking from one to the other. 'For the Duality's sake, this room belongs to Lord Death now, for the vigil, and I won't have you desecrate it with whatever quarrel you have with each other.'
'Acatl-tzin.' Teomitl was quivering with contained rage. 'You don't understand.'
I was getting tired of that particular line. I jerked a finger in the direction of the entrance-curtain. 'You have the whole palace gathered outside, wondering what all the shouting is about. And, as a matter of fact, so am I.'
'He–' Teomitl started, but Acamapichtli cut him off.
'Your student,' he said with freezing hauteur, 'your student has just accused me of a grave crime. I cannot tolerate such groundless persecution.' He looked at me as if the whole blame for that rested solely on my shoulders.
