'A pity. I'd expected to have more time to idly chat,' Chipahua said. 'But I very much doubt you came all this way for my sake.'
I studied him, but his weathered face gave nothing away. He had to know about Eptli, didn't he?
'You know what happened.'
Chipahua's gaze didn't waver. 'Yes. Someone fainted during the ceremony.'
'Not fainted. Died.'
'I see.' His lips tightened. 'And once again we're not informed.'
I felt obscurely embarrassed, even though none of it was my fault. Chipahua smiled – but it was a smile tinged with anger. 'What did you do with the body?'
'It's still being examined in the palace. Why?'
'Because he was one of us. He should be given a proper funeral.'
'He'll have one.' A wake, a pyre and a dog's sacrifice, and the hymns for the Dead – no more, no less than what any man was entitled to.
'I don't think you understand,' Chipahua said. His gaze was still amused – but it was tinged with the contempt of warriors for priests. 'He was one of us. We will be at his funeral, and it will be done properly.'
I acquiesced, rather than let myself be drawn into a loaded discussion. 'You haven't asked me which warrior it was.'
Something passed in his gaze, too fast for me to grasp. 'No. It doesn't matter who he was.'
A lie. A good one, but still a lie. 'The warrior was Eptli of the Atempan clan.'
One of the other warriors sniggered. 'Got what was coming to him.'
'Zacayaman!' Chipahua said, sharply. 'Be silent. The dead are owed respect.' But he didn't sound as outraged as he ought to have been.
'I've seen sadder reactions,' I said.
Chipahua picked up a maize cake, and looked at it as if it were a lump of jade. 'If you're here, you know what happened. I can't exactly be sad.'
'But you're also the one with the strongest motive.'
'Motive?' This time, the surprise sounded genuine, but I'd already seen what a good liar he was. 'I don't see – you mean the death wasn't natural? I assumed–'
'You assumed wrong. Someone cursed Eptli, and he died.'
Chipahua tore the cake into two neat pieces. 'Curses are serious matters,' he said.
'So is ascending into the Eagle or Jaguar Knights.'
He wasn't looking at me anymore. 'It takes more than four prisoners, as you well know.'
'I'm not that familiar with army procedures,' I said carefully, though in this particular case I did know. My elder brother was a Jaguar Knight.
'The Knights have to accept you as a brother.' He shrugged. 'I don't think either I or Eptli had much of a chance, to be honest.'
'Why?'
'I'm a commoner,' Chipahua said, simply.
'And Eptli wasn't?'
'Eptli's father was a commoner before the Revered Speaker elevated him. It gave Eptli a great deal of… arrogance?'
'Which was totally unjustified,' the warrior on my left said.
I suspected arrogance was the wrong word. Warriors were arrogant as a way of life. There had to be more to explain why Eptli was so disliked.
'Commoners have ascended into the Jaguar Knights before,' I said, thinking of my brother. We were the sons of a peasant family on the outskirts of Tenochtitlan; he'd risen through feats of arms, and I through the clergy.
Chipahua grimaced. 'The new commander isn't as open as the previous one.'
'Southern Hummingbird blind the Jaguar Commander,' the right-hand warrior – Zacamayan – said. 'We know your worth, as does everyone in the clan-unit.' His accent and dress were those of an educated man: he was either a nobleman himself, or the son of an elevated commoner, afforded all the privileges of the nobility.
I ignored the interruption. 'You want me to think you had no motive for killing Eptli,' I said to Chipahua. 'But taking a fourth captive brings other benefits besides entry into the Knighthoods.' The haircut that marked them as veterans; distinctive insignia and cloaks; the right to more of the tribute, and the title which would give them the higher status they coveted.
'I won't deny that.' Chipahua's face was blank. 'If you're going by motive, then yes, I do have one, and a strong one. You'll know I wasn't the only one.'
I refrained from glancing at his two supporters. 'Giving me names to save yourself?'
Chipahua looked thoughtful for a moment. 'You've talked to Coatl,' he said finally.
I thought, uneasily, of the tone in Coatl's voice when he'd talked about Eptli. 'He didn't approve of Eptli?'
'Eptli mocked the old. He rejected their authority – he said they were spent, and they had nothing more to teach us.'
