'The Feathered Serpent does not require human blood, but he does ask for penance, and preparation.'
'Fasting, and meditation,' I said. 'I'm not totally ignorant.'
'Good,' Nezahual-tzin said. He pushed the cup of chocolate aside. 'A full night's vigil is what is usually required, from the emergence of the Evening Star until the Morning Star's dawn.'
Another way of telling me he needed my answer now, or we would have to wait another day to track down Xahuia.
Teomitl had not trusted him, but Teomitl's judgment was hardly impeccable. Still…
'I'm not your enemy, Acatl-tzin,' Nezahual-tzin said. 'I assure you.'
'You…' He was a politician; a born liar. 'I can't trust you.' The words were out of my mouth before I could think.
He looked at me, his eyes rolling up again in that eerie way. Had he been Tizoc-tzin, I'd already have been on my way to the imperial cells but instead he said nothing. Silence spread in the room, grew oppressive.
'Nezahual-tzin…'
'No, I understand your reluctance. But understand, Acatl-tzin, as long as Xahuia is loose in Tenochtitlan, I am at risk. I am her countryman; worse, her brother. If she is accused of destructive sorcery, then…'
'I shouldn't think your reputation was so bad.'
'It has been better,' Nezahual-tzin, with not a trace of humour. 'As you said to the pup, I know who to sacrifice, and when. Xahuia has done her time.'
I wasn't sure whether to admire his frankness, or to despise him for his calculations. I said the first thing which came to mind. 'You underestimate Teomitl.'
'Perhaps.' He did not sound convinced. The ghostly serpent behind him swayed in a rustle of feathers. 'But that is beside the point. Will you take my help, Acatl-tzin, if only on this?'
It wasn't safe. Quite aside from the fact that I didn't trust him or his motives, there was also the question of his allegiance. He was of the Triple Alliance, but not Mexica, and Tizoc-tzin would seize on any association between us to make me look worse in the eyes of the Court. I ought to have refused him. I ought to have walked away from whatever he proffered, trusted my instincts and let Yaotl's men continue the search. But the Duality was weak, and the Southern Hummingbird had retreated to safer climes and could not help us any longer.
'Only on this,' I said.
His lips curled up for a smile, revealing teeth like the fangs of a snake. 'Good.'
Night had fallen by the time I exited Nezahual-tzin's chambers, and my fatigue was worsening. My stomach yawned in my body like the blind, gaping mouth of a beast; and the world around me was not as steady as it had once been. I stopped by a carved pillar to catch my breath, waiting for the colours to return to sharpness and the wave of dizziness to pass.
There was little time left. I could rest later; what I needed now was an audience with the She-Snake.
I took the time to shed my blood for the Fifth Sun, to comfort Him in his journey across the night sky, and then detoured through some nobleman's kitchens, to snatch maize and peppers from a passing slave. After that, I headed back to the other side of the palace.
It stood wreathed in darkness, a counterpart to Tizoc-tzin's chambers. The plaintive music of a bone flute wafted from above, like an offering to the Heavens, an unceasing prayer for our continued existence.
The platform was deserted, and so were the chambers behind the entrance-curtain, the only smell that of old incense congealing in the burners. No one stopped me as I stepped through the remnants of a feast, my feet crunching on crumbs of fried food, and torn reed-mats.
The She-Snake sat in the central courtyard, on a coarse reed mat, listening to the music. He dressed in unrelieved black once more, his face a clearer patch in the shadows, his eyes closed, his hands unclenched in his lap.
The clatter of my sandals on the stone floor made him look up. The music quivered, and then stopped as the slave threw a glance at the She-Snake, who nodded, gravely, as if my entrance were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
'My Lord…' I said.
He shook his head. 'No need to apologise, Acatl. It's a beautiful night for an interview, isn't it?'
Overhead were the stars, unclouded, the blinking eyes of monsters, the elbows and joints of they who would tear the world apart. Overhead was the Moon, the incarnation of a vengeful, angry goddess who stirred in Her underground prison.
'I don't think so,' I said.
'A pity.' The She-Snake nodded, gravely. 'Leave us, will you?' he asked the slave, who bowed in return, and left us alone in the courtyard.
The She-Snake did not move, sitting tall and straight on his mat, as regal as if he had been Revered Speaker himself, waiting for me to speak up. The air was cold and crisp, like the breath of the lake at dawn.
'I come because I have no choice,' I said, finally. 'I have questions–'
He raised a hand, not unkindly. 'Priests always have questions, Acatl. Whatever god you serve, you seek and hoard knowledge like jade or turquoise.'
It sounded half like a reproach, but I did not rise to the bait. There was too much at stake. 'You haven't been exactly enthusiastic about helping me before,' I said.
The She-Snake raised an eyebrow. 'I am a busy man, but not an impolite one. You can't hope to come to me with any petty requests you might have, and to have me jump up to see that your needs are met.'
The words came fast and smooth, with barely any pause in his breath. I couldn't believe any of them. He was too much at ease, as if he had been expecting this conversation all along. 'I see. And now that I'm here…'
'I have time,' the She-Snake said. He looked up, at the night sky. 'Thanks to your trick with the Duality, we have plenty of time left.'
'It wasn't a trick.'
'Ask Quenami.' The She-Snake's face was expressionless, but he sounded amused. 'I very much doubt it's on his list of authorised behaviours, even in the absence of a Revered Speaker.'
'Quenami is a fool,' I said.
