be found. If Neutemoc was indeed the father, then the child was the proof of his illicit liaison: one that would get him expelled from the Jaguar Knights. The child, then, was a blackmail tool. Had Neutemoc seen through her, and summoned the nahual to put an end to the problem, never thinking of the consequences?
It sounded too much like something Neutemoc would think of. Far too much.
I walked back to my temple, to dress in my full regalia before going again to the Jaguar House – cursing Neutemoc all the while for putting our family in this situation.
I arrived at my temple, and found a man deep in talk with Ichtaca: a grizzled warrior wearing a blue feather headdress, and an armour of hardened cotton on which was drawn the fused-lovers insignia of the Duality.
Ichtaca gestured towards me when I came near. 'That's the man you want,' he said. Without another word, he walked away, towards the rooms to the eastern side of the courtyard.
The warrior bowed to me. 'My name is Ixtli,' he said. 'I head the search parties.'
'Oh, I see. Any results?' I asked, though he looked glum enough; wet and bedraggled, his eyes sunk deep into his face.
He shook his head. 'No. I won't waste your time. I have twenty men out, combing the city. So far, not much.'
Not encouraging; but then I had not expected a miracle.
Ixtli watched for a while, gauging me. 'I'll go back to helping them, then.' He sighed. 'I'll have them spread out, to keep searching for as long as possible. But we're going to need some sleep, too.'
I almost said no, told him to keep searching, no matter the cost. There had been blood in Eleuia's room – blood from deep wounds, scattered over the frescoes. She might be dying; and Neutemoc was still under arrest, while I had nothing to help him. But Ixtli had done enough, in an affair that didn't have personal stakes for him; and I couldn't afford to antagonise him in any case. 'I don't think a few hours are going to make that much difference. Do what you can.'
Ixtli drew himself to attention. 'Yes,' he said. 'I'll see you again, then.'
I climbed the steps to the shrine under the blazing morning sun. Inside, the nobleman's body had been collected from the limestone altar. On the cactus-paper registers, Ichtaca had noted in a steady hand: 'In recompense for the wake of Acolmixtli, Keeper of the House of Animals: five quetzal feathers, one roll of cloth and ten quills of gold.'
The nobleman's family had been happy, then, to give such a fortune to the temple. I still thought we had no use for such largesse, that it would be better for it to go to starving peasants, to those really in need of it.
I laid my cloak by the altar, under the hollow gaze of Mictlantecuhtli's statue, and went out on the temple steps to compose my thoughts.
I had to gather proper offerings for Xochiquetzal: a task I couldn't entrust to anyone but myself, for I feared the answer She'd give me. I also had to find the Jaguar Knight Mahuizoh, though the Knights wouldn't be back from their ceremonies for a while.
Who else did I have to see? Neutemoc, of course: I wanted him – no, I needed him to confirm that he had slept with Eleuia for a few nights – that they hadn't cared for each other, and that he hadn't been foolish enough to fall in love with her yet another time. Deep, deep down, I suspected what he would answer; and I couldn't bear the thought.
Impatient footsteps echoed on the stairs of the shrine. Startled, I looked down at the courtyard, which was still deserted. Someone, however, was climbing the pyramid's stairs.
A young warrior. He wore an orange cloak, its hem embroidered with scorpions: the mark of a Leading Youth, one who had captured a prisoner on the battlefield and thus ended his apprenticeship. His steps were quick, impatient. He reached the top of the stairs, and scrutinised me, as if unsure what to make of me. He couldn't have been more than eighteen years old; his face was smooth, still filled with the easy arrogance of youth; his gestures sure and fast, as if a great energy lay underneath them.
'You would be Acatl-tzin?' he said. In his mouth, the 'tzin' was almost doubtful.
I nodded. 'If it's for a wake–'
He shook his head, impatiently. 'No. It's about the priestess.'
At least he was direct. 'Priestess Eleuia?' I asked.
'Who else?' He shook his head again, as if to clear a persistent ache. 'The Guardian told me to go to you.'
'Ceyaxochitl sent you?' Now I was curious. She had told me she couldn't provide help. Why send me a cocksure youth?
He was still staring at me, clearly unfazed by any notion of proper behaviour or respect. 'Yes,' he said. 'She said I might be able to help.' Again, he didn't sound convinced.
'I don't think I need help,' I said, slowly. 'From a warrior–'
'Because it would shame you?'
He was quick to take offence: overly sensitive, which was odd for a warrior, even a warrior this young. Why had Ceyaxochitl sent him? 'No,' I said, thinking of the coldness that seized my shoulder-blades every time the Wind of Knives – my counterpart in the underworld, He who dealt swift justice – materialised in my temple. 'Because there are some things swords can't fight.'
He stared at me, and for a moment I saw real fear in his gaze. But he clenched his jaw, and said, 'No. But I'm not here to fight.' Not yet, said everything in his stance. I couldn't fault him for his courage. Despite his inexperience, he was a warrior in every gesture, and in every mood. 'I think I was the last one to see the priestess alive. Aside from your brother, of course.'
So Ceyaxochitl had told him about Neutemoc. Just what I needed. What else did he know?
Focus. I had to focus. Ceyaxochitl meant to help me, however misguidedly. 'When did you see her?'
'My name is Teomitl. I'm studying in the boys' calmecac.'
Teomitl. Arrow of the Gods. He was well-named, as straight and as eager to spill blood as an arrow. I would have placed him in a House of Youth with the other novice warriors, not in a school. But of course the calmecacs didn't only educate priests: they also served as schools for the children of the wealthy. Given the richness of his
