I walked back into the palace in an even bleaker mood than I'd left it. As fate and the Smoking Mirror would have it, the first person I met in the corridors was Quenami, the High Priest of Huitzilpochtli, who looked unusually preoccupied.
'Acatl.' He frowned. 'I haven't seen you this morning.'
'I had other business to attend to.' I was not in the mood for niceties. 'Did Ceyaxochitl come to you yesterday, Quenami?'
There was a brief moment before my words sunk in, which I could almost follow by looking at his blue- streaked face. 'The Guardian? She might have. I don't remember.'
'Only a day ago, and you can't remember? What a fickle mind you have.'
'I thought yesterday's little interview would have removed your inclination to insult your peers or your superiors.' Quenami's voice was cutting.
So many things had changed since yesterday. 'Perhaps. That was before someone poisoned Ceyaxochitl.'
'Poisoned? That means–'
'She's dying,' I said, curtly. I tried not to think of her warm, unresponsive skin under me, of the feeling of her heartbeat lurching out of control. She'd been at my back for as long as I could remember. We'd fought, but I'd always known she'd be there when the Empire truly needed her. 'And whatever happened, it was in the palace.'
'Do you have any proof of that?' Quenami appeared to have recovered from his shock, feigned or genuine I did not know.
'Who else would dare poison the Guardian?'
'More people than you'd think.' His voice was condescending again. 'Foreign sorcerers–'
'The only sorcerers of any note are in this palace,' I snapped. 'And I'm going to make sure they can't do any harm anymore.'
Quenami's face was frozen into what might have been anger or fear. 'So you'll just badger us into confessions? You're making a mistake.'
'Why? Because I'm impinging on your privileges? Look, I'm not intending to probe into secrets or shatter your face and heart in public, but you must realise that someone tried to kill the Guardian of the Sacred Precinct – agent of the Duality in this world, the keeper of the invisible boundaries. If they dare to do that, then no one here is safe.'
Quenami's face shifted to disdain. He was going to tell me that he was High Priest of Huitzilpochtli, that out of all people, he should be safe.
I forestalled him. 'It was poison poured into a meal, or a drink.' I kept my voice as innocuous and as innocent as possible. 'That could happen to anyone. Even if you could have your meals tasted by a slave, it was slow-acting. She didn't show any symptoms until a few hours after the poisoning.'
'What poison?'
'I don't know,' I said. 'But a nasty one. The muscles refuse to obey. You're trapped as a prisoner in your own body, until your lungs or your heart give up. It's not a pleasant way to go.' Not to mention pointless. Sacrifices and wounds dealt on the battlefield were painful, but this pain was an offering to the gods, the whole body becoming a sacrifice. But, for Ceyaxochitl, there would be no reward, no justification for enduring this slow slide into oblivion.
'Fine,' Quenami said. 'What do you want me to do, Acatl?'
'Just answer a few questions. Did you or did you not see Ceyaxochitl yesterday?'
'Yes,' Quenami said. 'Very early in the morning.'
'And?'
He hesitated for a while, trying to see what he could and could not tell me. 'She kept insisting to know where I stood.'
'Not surprising.'
'I suppose not,' he said with a trace of the old haughtiness. 'But still, she was annoying.'
That I had no doubt of – she could be. 'Did she eat or drink anything while she was with you?'
He looked at me for a while. 'I could deny it, but I think you wouldn't believe me.' His face creased into an uncharacteristic smile. 'She had maize porridge, brought by the slaves.'
'Your slaves?'
Again, Quenami hesitated. 'Yes.'
I made a mental note to see if any of that maize porridge was left. There were spells to detect the presence of poison, although they took a long time to be cast and could be finicky. 'And what
about Ocome?'
'What about him? I barely knew the man.'
'I think you're lying.'
'And I think you're trying to draw me out.' He looked me in the eye, his aristocratic face exuding casual pride.
'I know you came to see him.'
'Who wouldn't?' He made a dismissive gesture. 'The man had a vote, and he was selling it. Who wouldn't leap at the chance?'
'An honest man,' I said, a little more acidly than I'd meant to.
Quenami smiled pityingly. 'It's a wonder you've remained High Priest so long, Acatl.'
And it was a wonder he'd become High Priest at all. But I held my tongue.
'Seriously,' Quenami said. 'You know who I support, and who Ocome supported. Why would I kill him?'
