before joining my fellow high priests for the rest of the ritual.
TWENTY-FIVE
Tizoc-tzin's formal designation was a small and subdued affair. With his brother's funeral over, and him still in a state of weakness, he simply opted for a quiet ceremony with the governors and the magistrates. The Revered Speakers of Texcoco and Tlacopan, his fellow rulers in the Triple Alliance, offered him congratulations, and sacrificed quails to mark the beginning of an auspicious reign.
Tizoc-tzin wasn't quite yet crowned, of course. That would come after the coronation war, when he had brought back enough prisoners and slaves for a true celebration. But, nevertheless, he was already invested, with enough power to keep us all safe.
After the ceremony he received us in his private quarters. There were no slaves and no noblemen, just Teomitl, Acamapichtli, Nezahual-tzin and I, standing barefoot amidst the luxurious decorations, and the exquisitely carved columns. Fine feathers fans and gold ornaments were casually strewn across the room.
Quenami was beside his master, richly attired, with coloured heron plumes at his belt, blue-and-black paint, and a stylised fireserpent winding its way across the hem of his tunic. The air smelled faintly of pine needles and copal incense, and there was the faintest hint of smoke, causing my eyes to itch.
'I am given to understand that we owe you a debt,' Tizoc-tzin said. His eyes were sunken deep, his skin a pale brown, almost waxy, and he stumbled a little on his words. I wasn't sure if it was because something was wrong with his speech, if my delay in the ritual had cost him something, or if it was simply because he disliked uttering them. By the scowl on his face, there was at least some of the latter.
Nezahual-tzin shrugged. 'I'm glad to see proper diplomatic relations restored between Tenochtitlan and Texcoco. I shall look forward to your coronation, my lord.'
'I see.' Tizoc-tzin bent to look at Nezahual-tzin, as if not quite sure what to make of him. 'Perhaps you do,' he said grudgingly.
'It's in our best interests.' Nezahual-tzin's smile was wide and dazzling, that of a carefree sixteen-year-old. I wasn't fooled.
'And you.' Tizoc-tzin turned his attention back to Acamapichtli and me.
'We did our duty,' Acamapichtli said. 'To the Revered Speaker and to the Empire.' One of his arms, the one that had thrown the blade at Itzpapalotl, was a little stiff, and I didn't think it would ever move smoothly again. My own legs ached whenever I rose. Whatever Huitzilpochtli had said, there had been a price for entering the heartland. There was always a price.
Tizoc-tzin was silent for a while. His gaze moved from Acamapichtli to me and back again. 'Then I am assured of your loyalty.'
Not surprising, I guessed. A little saddening, but then I had known when we had brought him back to life. Death had changed nothing in him, no lessons had been learnt.
'You've always had our loyalty,' Acamapichtli said effortlessly.
'I have pledged service to the Revered Speaker of the Mexica Empire,' I said.
He noticed the omission of his name, that much was clear. His eyes narrowed. I fully expected him to demand something more of me, some show of obeisance, but he didn't.
'I see,' he said, again. 'So that's how things are.' He leant back, his back straight once more, and turned back to Quenami. 'The council is still empty, and we have to see about appointments. Teomitl?'
Teomitl rose from his crouch. For a moment, he and Tizoc-tzin faced each other, and I wasn't quite sure what I read in their gazes. It wasn't love, or even respect. Perhaps simply what my brother Neutemoc and I shared – the knowledge that, no matter how distant we might be, how difficult we might find getting on together, we still shared the same blood.
At length Tizoc-tzin nodded. 'I need a Master of the House of Darts.'
'I don't think–' Teomitl started.
'Nonsense. You'll do fine,' Tizoc-tzin said. 'If I can't trust family–'
'That's not the problem.' Teomitl's face hovered on the edge of divinity again. 'You know what's wrong.'
'Do I?' Tizoc-tzin looked at him for a while more. His pale face was unreadable; his skin pale and translucent, enough to reveal the bones and the shape of the skull. He'd died. He'd come back. We couldn't pretend things were normal. 'We'll have to see about another appointment for her. Some gift of jewellery or perhaps a grant of land. It would be unseemly for my brother to marry beneath him.'
What? I looked at Tizoc-tzin. I had misheard. But, no, Teomitl still stood, as if struck by Tlaloc's lightning. 'Brother–'
'You have objections?'
'No, no, I don't. But–'
'Don't get me wrong.' Tizoc-tzin was still scowling, like an unappeased spirit back from the underworld. 'I don't like this. I don't approve of this. I'll stand by what I think of your priest.'
Always pleasant, I could see. But as long as he agreed…
'But you're my brother, and there will be no war between us.'
Because he couldn't afford it, or because he loved Teomitl? I couldn't tell, not any more, what those two felt for each other. It seemed to me that something had broken in the hours before my arrest, when Tizoc-tzin had cast doubts on Mihmatini's reputation, something had come apart then, a mask broken into four hundred pieces, and things would never be the same.
Teomitl stood straight, as if to attention. 'Thank you.'
Tizoc-tzin scowled. 'But you're getting the other appointment as well. Don't flatter yourself. It's time you took part in imperial affairs.'
