'A mere boy,' Pezotic said. 'Even if what you said was true, why should it frighten me?'
'Because, boy or not, he's got the means to make sure you go back to Tenochtitlan.'
His face twisted then, opened up like a diseased flower. 'You have no authority–'
'You'll find Nezahual-tzin has. Teotihuacan would be wise not to anger one of the rulers of the Triple Alliance.'
'That's a lie. I'm here as a citizen of Tenochtitlan and a pilgrim devoted to Quetzalcoatl, and you can't take me away.' Pezotic was speaking faster now, words merging into one another with barely a pause. 'You or Nezahual-tzin, or whoever you claim to be speaking in the name of.'
The guards were coming our way now. Their leader called out to me. 'Is that the man we're looking for?'
I cursed under my breath. I didn't want Nezahual-tzin involved in this more than he had to, but I had little choice over the matter.
On the other hand, as a means of pressure. 'Yes,' I said. 'Let's get him back.'
Pezotic looked back and forth from me to the guards, from the guards to the priests, who stood still with carefully guarded faces, waiting to see how it would all play out. 'You can't,' he said. 'You can't take me back there. You have to leave me here…'
'Then talk.' Teomitl withdrew the
I held up a hand to tell him to wait. They were strolling nearer, taking their time, secure in their numbers and might.
Pezotic looked up at me, his eyes pleading in a sickening manner. I was no warrior, but the craven way he made himself the centre of the universe was disgusting. 'Please–'
When I didn't answer, he whispered, 'If I go back to Tenochtitlan, I'll die.'
'Death comes to us all,' I said.
'Don't give me that, priest,' he spat. 'Death is nothing but oblivion, but what will happen to us all is worse than that. You know it. Those killed won't dissolve before Lord Death's Throne, or ascend into the Heaven of the Sun. We'll serve Him forever. That was the price.'
I signalled to Teomitl to go speak to the guards, hoping that he'd interpret my gestures correctly and not rush into attacking them. 'What price?' I asked. 'Manatzpa-tzin spoke of duty…'
'Duty?' Pezotic spat again. His saliva glistened on the ground between my sandals, as disgusting as the trail of a snail. 'We weren't asked, priest. None of us. It's not duty at all. That old clawless buzzard Echichilli got it into his head that he was going to help Tizoc-tzin, and Axayacatl-tzin agreed… and we weren't given a choice.'
Tizoc-tzin and Axayacatl-tzin. And Echichilli. The tar. The ten jars of tar Palli had tracked into the Revered Speaker's rooms. And the old, old death that was there, hanging over the place like a pall.
Surely– A hollow was forming in the pit of my stomach, as cold as ice on Mount Popocatepetl, opening deeper and deeper with every one of his words. 'What kind of help?' I asked. 'Summoning the star-demons?' I stole a glance backwards. Teomitl looked to be arguing with the guards. Jade Skirt's magic wreathed him in green, watery reflections, but so far no one seemed to be attacking anyone. Good. The Duality only knew how long this could last.
Probably not long.
'Of course not. That would have been too dangerous.' Pezotic looked up at me as if I were the worst of fools. I felt like shaking him.
'Then what?'
His lips narrowed. He closed his eyes, as if accessing a memory that was too much to bear – not hard to imagine, given what I'd seen of his mettle. 'Axayacatl-tzin wanted to make sure that he'd leave a strong empire behind. That what Moctezuma-tzin had started, and what he'd continued, would go on for another reign, that of a strong Lord of Men, of a strong warrior.'
Unless he replaced Tizoc-tzin with another kind of man altogether, I couldn't see what could be done about this at all. 'You're not making any sense.'
Pezotic smiled, that slimy expression again, of someone who knew the position of all the beans on the board and was intending to profit from the situation for all it was worth. 'He wasn't a fool, and neither was Echichilli. They both knew that Tizoc-tzin's biggest problem wasn't the lack of support, or his unwarlike disposition.'
'Go on.' The pit in my stomach was large enough to fit several levels of Mictlan in by now. I glanced at the guards, thinking we would be rounded up and arrested at any moment – but they stood gaping, watching Pezotic as if trying to make sense of his words.
'What makes a good Revered Speaker, Acatl-tzin?'
I could see only one thing which didn't relate to any of what Pezotic had mentioned before. I said, very slowly, hardly daring to breathe, 'The Revered Speaker is the agent of Huitzilpochtli on Earth. He makes sure that we are safe from star-demons and the myriad other creatures trying to overthrow the established order.' And, very slowly, because I remembered what someone – Acamapichtli, or perhaps the She-Snake – had once told me. 'Tizoctzin doesn't have the Southern Hummingbird's favour. I still can't see–'
'Favour can be gained,' Pezotic said, bitterly. 'With the proper tools.'
'I thought the Southern Hummingbird was weak– Oh.' It had been before Axayacatl-tzin's death, and the jeopardy that had ensued.
'Echichilli couldn't give Tizoc-tzin any human support. He was much too honest to bribe or threaten the council, no matter how great his influence with them might have been. But he thought he could plead with a god.'
He thought he…
Oh no. But Pezotic was going on, regardless of what discomfort he was causing me; or was he all too aware of it, and glorying in the horror he could see, shocked into every feature of my face?
'Echichilli gathered us all one night, in the Imperial Chambers, the whole council save Tizoc-tzin. He had traced a great glyph on the floor, that of
Tar. Boats, Ichtaca had said, but I'd failed to make the logical leap. A boat implied a journey, and not necessarily one contained within the Fifth World.
