'Because you couldn't trust him not to change sides?'
Quenami snorted. 'Murder is a serious matter, not decided so lightly.' For once, he sounded sincere. Not that it changed anything. I could well imagine him planning a murder with much forethought, and though it looked as though he'd become High Priest only through his connections, I very much doubted his magical abilities would be insignificant.
'I see,' I said. 'What do you know about Coyolxauhqui?'
'My, my, just full of questions today, aren't we? I can't possibly see what I can tell you about She of the Silver Bells that you don't already know, Acatl. Sister of the Southern Hummingbird. Creator of the star-demons. Rebelled against Him during the migration to found the Empire. Defeated, and imprisoned beneath the Great Temple.' His tone was bored, as if he were reciting something learnt by rote. But, if he had been worshipping Her all along, he would have learnt to hide his allegiance.
'That's all you know?'
'What else would there be?' He lifted a hand, thoughtfully staring at his tanned, long fingers, covered with jade and turquoise jewellery. 'I can still feel Huitzilpochtli's power, so She's still imprisoned. And we're warded against star-demons.'
He was, as usual, far too confident. He had not even bothered to check.
But still, as High Priest of Huitzilpochtli, he made a poor candidate for a secret worshipper of She of the Silver Bells. He had passed both the initiation as a priest, and the investing with the Southern Hummingbird's powers, all of which would have been difficult to do with conflicting allegiances.
After I was done with Quenami, I could have gone back and seen the council; but there was one person I had not interviewed at all, and who appeared far from uninvolved in the whole business – Xahuia, the princess of Texcoco who had sent away the guards at Ocome's door on that fateful night, and who had either been the last person to see him alive, or worse.
Accordingly I crossed the palace to the women's quarters and asked for an audience, which was granted immediately, a welcome change from the current trend.
The women's quarters were at the back of the palace, protected by a stout wall adorned with red snakes, and a large image of Chantico, She Who Dwells in the House – with a crown of thorns and a tongue twisting out of Her mouth, as red as the paprika She held in Her cupped hands. Those quarters were, more than anywhere else, a place of seclusion. The courtyards I crossed were small, the rooms that opened into them had their entrance- curtains all drawn closed, and I saw no one but the slaves that accompanied me.
Xahuia's audience room was on the ground floor. I wasn't sure if that was her choice, or merely a statement that, as a foreigner, some imperial privileges were denied to her.
Xahuia herself was in a shadowed room separated from the courtyard by pillars carved with glyphs and abstract patterns. She was sitting cross-legged on a reed mat, playing
'My Lady,' one of the slaves said. 'The High Priest for the Dead, Acatl-tzin.'
She raised her head. Her face was smooth and beautiful, painted with the yellow of corn kernels, cochineal spread on her teeth to give them the colour of blood. Her eyes, underlined by a slight touch of black, were wide, the pupils shimmering like a lake at night. 'I see. Leave us, will you?'
The slaves scattered like a flock of parrots, leaving me alone, facing her across the
She laughed, like a delighted child. 'Oh, please. You flatter me by using the title, but no one else uses it.'
'You're of the Imperial Family.'
Xahuia's thin lips turned upwards, her gaze creased in amusement. 'Of Texcoco. Of Tenochtitlan – only by marriage, and you must know it.' She did not say that was why I was here. She did not need to.
'My Lady,' I said, finally. 'You know there has been one murder, and one murder attempt, in this palace.'
Her face went grave again. 'I know only of one murder. Who is the second?'
'The Guardian.'
'Really.' She did not look or sound surprised. Her face had gone as harsh as an obsidian blade.
'You expected this?'
Xahuia was silent for a while, her hands automatically picking up the beans from the board. 'She behaved as if the whole palace was hers. It's not a good time for that kind of attitude.'
'She came to see you yesterday,' I said, voicing the obvious.
Xahuia made no attempt to deny it. 'In the afternoon, in the hour of the Storm Lord.'
'And?' I asked.
'We talked for a while.'
'Around refreshments?'
'Of course.' She smiled. 'I'll have the slaves bring some to you as well, don't worry.'
I forced a smile in answer. Given what had happened to Ceyaxochitl, that wasn't exactly the most promising invitation I'd ever received. 'You do know that she was poisoned.'
Xahuia shook her head. 'Of course not. I've just told you I didn't even know about the Guardian's attempted murder.' But she did not ask any more questions. Not what I would have expected, had she been truly ignorant.
'Let's say you don't,' I said. 'You can't deny you knew Ocome.'
