Obsidian & Blood

  He was sitting across from my sleeping mat. A bowl of maize porridge lay between us, along with dried algae. His face in the dim light was unreadable. 'I brought you breakfast.'

  'Someone…' I fought to part my tongue from the palate where it seemed to have become stuck. 'Someone has come.'

  Manatzpa looked curious. 'Yes. The high priests, the She-Snake and the Master of the House of Darts. They brought a priest of Patecatl with them, but couldn't wake you up even after the healing. I told them it wasn't worth disturbing you.'

  Quenami, Acamapichtli, the She-Snake and Tizoc-tzin – all the help I could have expected, but he had sent them away. No one would come back before daybreak. 'And Teomitl?'

  Manatzpa's eyes narrowed. Did I seem too eager to leave? He could not possibly have guessed that I knew. 'I feel like I'm imposing on you,' I said, with what I hoped was my most embarrassed smile.

  'Not at all.' His lips curled up, in that peculiar approximation of a smile. 'Anything for the High Priest for the Dead. It's people like you that keep us safe.'

  He would know, of course. I lowered my gaze, as if embarrassed. In reality, I was wondering if Teomitl had come or not, if I could expect him.

  Not that it mattered. I made as if to rise, but could not find the strength.

  'Acatl-tzin.' Manatzpa shook his head. 'Surely you can't think of leaving so soon. Look at yourself.'

  'I have duties,' I gasped, falling back on the sleeping mat.

  'Your duties can wait.' His eyes were dark, knowing. 'Have some maize porridge.'

  And some poison? 'I don't feel very hungry,' I started, but when I saw the shadow steal across his face, I knew I'd gone too far. If he hadn't been suspicious before, he was now. 'But I do appreciate all the trouble you're going through for my sake.' I reached across, took the bowl, and raised it to my lips, hoping that I wasn't courting my own death.

  The porridge was hot and spicy; my lips tingled from the first sip, but surely it was just my imagination? It couldn't possibly be that fast-acting.

  Better not tempt luck, though. I took a few sips, made a face like a sick man who has discovered he can't stomach food so soon, and carefully laid the bowl down again. 'I'd have thought a man of your stature would have slaves,' I said.

  Manatzpa shrugged, an expansive gesture that racked his whole frame. 'I have several, but they're often on errands. I'm young enough to take care of myself, Acatl-tzin.'

  He sounded uncannily like Teomitl. If circumstances had been different, I might even have liked him. As it was…

  Manatzpa was looking at me, his gaze thoughtful, as if trying to work out something. 'Is anything wrong?' I asked.

  His lips thinned to a pale brown line against the dark skin of his face, as if he were angry, or amused. 'Nothing is wrong, Acatl-tzin. I just have many things to do, as I have no doubt you have.'

  I inclined my head, inhaling the sharp, spicy smell of the maize porridge. 'I have no doubt the council will be in a panic after what happened last night.'

  Manatzpa's face did not move. 'Two deaths in so little time. Yes, that would be cause for concern.' He gestured again towards the bowls. 'You've barely eaten anything, Acatl-tzin. Please.'

  His eyes were too eager, too hungry. That was when I knew for sure that there was something in that porridge, something he wanted me to consume. My lips itched again, as if blood had just returned to numb flesh. Was that what had happened with Ceyaxochitl? 'I've already told you,' I said, very carefully. 'I feel like my stomach has been overturned.' I pointed to the bandages on my chest. 'That tends to cut the appetite.' It was hardly a lie. In the past few moments, the feeling of emptiness had seemed to increase a hundredfold – not like the coming of a star-demon, but as if the existing hole in the centre of the Fifth World had spread – had become a maw, sucking me into its depths.

  'I see.' Manatzpa's lips curled up again. He didn't believe a word of it. 'But you need it, believe me.' His voice was flat, his eyes as dull as quarried stone. 'If necessary, I'll force it down your throat.'

  My heart missed a beat; I tried to convince myself I'd misheard, but I knew I hadn't. 'Manatzpa.'

  He knew. The sensation of emptiness was increasing in my chest. A hollow grew in my stomach, as if dozens of lumps of ice were forming there.

  Manatzpa's face had changed; contempt and hatred filled the emptiness of his eyes, but he had it under control again in a heartbeat, becoming once again the harmless, round-faced man I'd first met. That was more frightening than anything I'd seen that night. 'Let's not dance around each other like warriors at the gladiatorial sacrifice, Acatl-tzin. You know I can't possibly let you walk out of this room alive.'

  There was nothing here I could use; my weapons had been stripped from me, and none were in evidence. He had me backed against a wall, sitting between me and the only exit. Even if I hadn't been wounded…

  The sensation of emptiness was becoming as crippling as the wounds. If I didn't act now, I never would.

  I reached out in a heartbeat, the side of my hand catching the bowls of warm porridge and sending them flying into his face. Then I was up, ignoring the weakness that knifed through me, and running towards the exit with agility I hadn't known I possessed.

  From behind me came curses, and the tread of heavier feet. He was wounded too, but I was drained. He would catch me…

  I ran, pain beating like sacrificial drums in my chest. I swung the entrance-curtain out of the way in a jangle of bells, plunged into the courtyard and towards what I hoped was the exit.

  I didn't look back, but I knew he was getting closer.

  Another room; another set of entrance-curtains; another courtyard. I wasn't going the right way.

  'Acatl-tzin. This is pointless,' Manatzpa said behind me. His voice quivered, on the edge of breathlessness. 'You cannot hope to get out.'

  I didn't bother to answer, just tried to run faster. But he caught the hem of my cloak, sending me sprawling to the ground. 'You fool.'