Tizoc-tzin sat on a reed mat in the further corner; and the silhouette by his side, with the blue feather head-dress, could only be Quenami. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but even seated he seemed to tower over the hunched figure of Tizoc-tzin.
I dared not creep too close to their whispered conversation – Quenami, for all his bluster, was High Priest, and might have a way of seeing me – but the smoke was making it difficult for me to hear: it cut their words into four hundred meaningless pieces, carried away by the cold wind between the stars.
'…crown… mine…'
'…Lord of Men… sacrifice… regrettable deaths, but necessary…'
'…that they would dare disobey…'
Carefully, I walked closer. Quenami stiffened. I stopped, my heart hammering against my throat, but he relaxed again, and bent closer to Tizoc-tzin.
Southern Hummingbird blind me, why did he always find a way to thwart me?
Closer… The smoke whirled around me; the world shifted and blurred, a prelude to being torn apart.
'You worry too much, my lord,' Quenami was saying, smooth and smiling. I was close enough to see the paint on his face, the jade, obsidian and carmine rings on his fingers, made almost colourless by the smoke.
Tizoc-tzin shivered, and did not answer. He was staring at a cup of hot chocolate; the bitter, spicy smell wafted up to me, not pungent but oddly muted, as if the smoke plugged my nose.
Quenami went on, 'Everything is going according to plan.'
I didn't like the idea that those two had a plan. 'You call this –' Tizoc-tzin's voice was a hiss – according to plan? No wonder priests are such appalling strategists.'
Quenami's face went as smooth as carved jade. 'You're tired, my lord.'
Tizoc-tzin looked up sharply. For a heartbeat I thought he was looking straight at me, but he was merely staring at Quenami, his face tense. 'Yes,' he said, thoughtfully. 'You're right. I grow weary of this nightmare, Quenami.' He lifted his cup of chocolate: the bitter smell wafted up stronger, as unpleasant as a corpse left alone for too long. I shook my head to clear the smell; the tendrils moved across Quenami's arms and hands in an unsettling effect. And as the smoke shifted, so did their voices, receding into the background.
'…over soon…' Quenami was saying. 'Tomorrow… opposition removed quite effectively…'
What was happening tomorrow? What opposition? I needed to know. I bent further, and all but lost my balance as Quenami shifted positions. My hand passed a finger's breadth away from his head. He stopped, then, looked around him suspiciously. One of his hands drifted downwards, to pick an obsidian knife from his belt.
Time to go. I didn't know whether his spell would be effective, but I had no intention of finding out.
When I came out, the She-Snake was waiting for me, sitting on his haunches on the platform, watching darkness flow across the courtyard, as if it were the most natural thing in the Fifth World.
I said, slowly, 'It can't be true. He wouldn't dare–' Do what, exactly? I hadn't heard much, but the little Quenami had said had made it clear those two were no longer playing by any rules I might have known. 'It's some trick of your spell.'
'No tricks,' the She-Snake said. 'Do you think me capable of inventing something that complicated? I'm a much more straightforward man than you take me for, Acatl.'
'It's not what Axayacatl-tzin thought,' I blurted out.
'He had his own opinions; and he had lived for too long in my father's shadow.'
'Fine,' I said. But I couldn't trust him. I couldn't possibly face the enormity of what he had shown me. 'Then tell me Whose protection we are under, tonight.'
'Do you not know?' the She-Snake said. 'Ilamantecuhtli.'
'The Old Woman, She who Rules?' I asked. The title meant nothing to me.
'Another aspect of Cihuacoatl, the She-Snake.' He smiled when he saw my face. 'Did you think my title was purely honorific? I serve a goddess, as much as the Revered Speaker serves Huitzilpochtli.'
'The goddess of–'
He smiled again. 'There is a temple, in the Sacred Precinct, the walls of which are painted black. Its entrance is a small hole, and no incense or sacrifices ever trouble the quietude. Inside are all the vanquished gods, the protectors of the cities we conquered, kept smothered in the primal night. The name of that temple is Tlillan.'
Darkness. 'And you–'
He looked at me, and his eyes were bottomless chasms. 'In the beginning was darkness, and in the end, too. She is the space between the stars, the shield that keeps us safe.'
'And She is on our side?'
'As much as a goddess can take sides.'
'Why would she be?'
'I told you. She is darkness, anathema to all light. She holds our enemies to Her withered bosom.' The She-Snake rose, staring into the sky above.
'Huitzilpochtli is light,' I said. The only light, the one that kept the Fifth World safe and warm, the earth fertile and the rain amenable.
'Every great light must cast a great shadow. And every shadow knows it cannot exist, without that light.'
'I still can't–'
'It was not illusion.' His voice was grave. 'Think on it, Acatl, think on what you have seen. Think on what and whom you believe in.'
