Neutemoc's house was brightly lit, the leaping jaguars on its facade seeming almost alive. But there were no more torches than usual: no visitors, then. I wasn't altogether surprised. Neutemoc's reputation had been badly damaged a year before, when he'd been accused of murder and had lost his wife in a matter of days. Neutemoc himself hadn't been the same – less given to boisterous parties, or even to participating in the clan's daily life. He might have regained some of that on the march, but the damage went too deep to be removed at one stroke.
The burly slave at the entrance knew both Teomitl and I, and gestured for us to go inside.
The reception room was more sober than it had been the year before: gone were the feather fans, and the silver and jade ornaments had been put away, presumably in the wicker chests against the wall. The only things that hadn't changed were the huge frescoes of Huiztilpochtli, the Southern Hummingbird and the Mexica protector god, trampling bound enemies underfoot.
'Teomitl! Acatl!' My sister Mihmatini rose from where she was sitting. She wore the simple garb of a priestess: an embroidered tunic over a skirt, with the fused-lovers symbol of the Duality set over her heart. She positively glowed – not all of it was my imagination, or my pride as her brother. A faint, radiant thread snaked from her feet to Teomitl – who stood, smiling at her.
'You're not at the palace anymore?'
Technically, they were married: Tizoc-tzin himself had set up the betrothal banquet, and had brought the stone axe to the priests – the axe which signified Teomitl's release from the education owed a youth, and his entrance into adult life. The wedding itself had been a grand, lavish ceremony, performed just before the army had left for the coronation war. Mihmatini herself had a room in the women's quarters, but of a common accord, she and Teomitl had moved into the Duality House, where Mihmatini continued her training as Guardian. I wondered how much of this was due to Tizoc-tzin's presence.
Mihmatini grimaced. 'I've had enough of the palace. The atmosphere is so tense I'd rather be out, honestly. And banquets are all well and good, but they won't protect the Fifth World.'
Teomitl shrugged, though he looked unhappy.
'I know it's hard, but things will sort themselves out. Don't let that get to you.' 'I know, but…'
'Come here.'
I left the two lovers locked in an embrace and turned to face my brother.
Neutemoc looked better than before the army had left: a little less gaunt, a little more smiling, his broad face almost back to its boyish look, though his eyes would always give the lie to that. He'd gone through too much to pretend everything was fine. 'Acatl.'
The children had risen, and were waiting, warily, for the adults to finish greeting one another: Necalli, the only one of Neutemoc's children to be educated in the House of Youth, was calm and dignified, almost more like a priest-in-training than a boisterous warrior, and he'd obviously passed on some of that attitude to his younger sister, Mazatl, who stood quivering with impatience but not moving. I couldn't see Ollin, Neutemoc's youngest son, but I presumed he'd be sleeping with the female slave who nursed him.
'You look better,' I said.
'I'd be surprised.' Neutemoc gestured towards the mat, on which was spread the evening meal: white fish with red pepper, and sweet potatoes baked in honey. 'You, on the other hand, look–'
'–regal. I know.' I made a brief, stabbing gesture. 'I didn't think up the regalia.'
Neutemoc's lips twitched into a smile. 'You look like a proper High Priest, is what I wanted to say. Come on, sit down.'
I hugged the children first. Mazatl was all but leaping up and down. 'Uncle Acatl, Uncle Acatl! Can I try on the mask?'
I shook my head. 'It's the god's face. I don't think He meant it to be a toy.'
Mazatl's face fell. 'Can I touch it?' she asked and squealed when her hand met the smooth surface of bone.
'You're such a kid,' Necalli said, but Mazatl didn't react to his jibe.
'Children,' Neutemoc said, firmly. 'Your uncle, your aunt and I have to talk. Be quiet, please.'
They fell silent instantly. Neutemoc's authority had always been strong, and with his wife gone, it had grown stronger. Mihmatini and I had both urged him to take another spouse – it wasn't healthy, to have a household run only by a man – but he wouldn't hear of it.
Teomitl, who'd finished embracing Mihmatini, sat down, and removed his feather headdress – casually putting it down on the ground, within reach of the children. He glanced at Mazatl with a smile and a nod – she extended a trembling hand, and touched the feathers as if they might bite. I wasn't altogether sure she needed the encouragement: she was wilder than Mihmatini at her age, and undisciplined girls would have a hard time later on in school.
'I presume this isn't a courtesy visit?' Mihmatini asked.
I grimaced. 'Partly. I was intending to visit Neutemoc anyway to have news from the war, but I wasn't intending things to turn out quite the way they have.'
Mihmatini nodded. 'Teomitl told me earlier.'
'Earlier?'
Teomitl looked sheepish – a rare enough occurrence. 'I went and apprised her of the situation while you were out in the city.'
'You could have told me,' I said. I understood: she was his wife, and he hadn't had intimacy with her for months – and, for a bare moment, the endless cycle of rituals and ceremonies that made up his life had been torn apart, leaving him free to move as he wished. But still… she was my sister, too.
Neutemoc picked a frog from the plate in front of him, and ate it in a single gulp, as if not paying attention. 'The story is making the rounds of all the regiments by now, in any case. There weren't many warriors singled out for promotions this year, and for one of them to die… You won't keep it a secret.'
No, but Tizoc-tzin would try, all the same.
Beside me, Teomitl turned his head to stare at Neutemoc with a particular intensity. 'My brother will do as he wishes.'
'I have no doubt,' Neutemoc said, soberly. He didn't sound pleased, either. Was he among those who had lost trust in Tizoctzin? How far did the division in the army go?
'Anyway,' Neutemoc said. 'If you'll permit me this–' Teomitl nodded, curtly, as one equal to another, 'you do know none of this is about you. You're not your brother.'
Teomitl looked, for a moment, as if he'd swallowed something sour – but only for a moment, and then the familiar, dazzling smile was back on his face. 'Let's focus on the matter at hand,' he said. 'About Eptli–'
'He was just a warrior,' Mihmatini interjected. 'Aren't you two supposed to have better things to do with your time than investigate every single thing that goes wrong in the palace?'
