'How much did you hear?' I asked.
He didn't answer, but by his mocking glance, I could guess he had been outside all the while, listening.
'Don't you dare make this public,' I said. I could have asked him not to act on it, but it would have been in vain.
Nezahual-tzin snorted. 'Secrets are of value. Why would I reveal something like that?'
'For your own gain,' Teomitl snapped.
'Of course I wouldn't.' He smiled, with practised innocence – not that we were fooled.
'You'd better not.'
I decided to interpose myself, before the conversation degenerated: those two would come to blows easily enough, and it wouldn't help the stability of the Triple Alliance if the heir-apparent to the Mexica Empire and the Revered Speaker of Texcoco fought among themselves. 'You said the courtesan's name was Xiloxoch. How do you know, Nezahual-tzin?' And realised, too late, that there was only one possible answer to the question.
A faint, sarcastic smile appeared on Nezahual-tzin's lips for a bare moment, before his face was once more smooth and expressionless. 'You know how I know,' he said, curtly. 'She's a delightful woman, Xiloxoch. Not as young as she used to be, but a treasure-trove of inventions. A pleasure to be with. Almost makes staying in Tenochtitlan worthwhile.'
Teomitl's face went crimson. I was less fazed than him – both because I'd expected something like that, and because what women did in the privacy of their chambers had long since ceased to matter for me. 'I don't think your prowess as a man is the question here.'
Nezahual-tzin's eyes rolled up, revealing corneas of opalescent white. 'Of course. You don't feel concerned.'
Less than Teomitl, obviously. Ah – might as well question him, and find out what he knew. 'As I said earlier, let's focus. What do you know about Xiloxoch that would be relevant?' I stressed the word 'relevant.'
For a moment, I thought Nezahual-tzin was going to launch into a recitation of Xiloxoch's virtues on the reed-mat – but he must have perceived the shadows of jade playing on Teomitl's face, a sure sign that my student was losing hold of his divine powers. 'You forget. I have no idea what you want with her.'
'You know. You were listening.'
'I see,' Nezahual-tzin said. 'Well, I don't know much more than what's already known at the House of Joy.' He smiled disarmingly, but neither of us were fooled. 'She chooses her mat-partners carefully, and she'll not bend for anyone.'
'And would she say she was a devoted follower of Xochiquetzal?'
Nezahual-tzin's eyes rolled upwards again, revealing corneas as opalescent as mother-of-pearl. He was silent, for a while. He was – had always been – a good judge of character. 'Her? She has her pick of Jaguar Knights and Eagle Knights, and even of Otomi shock troops. She should lack for nothing – but her chambers are simply decorated, and I've never seen anyone so bored with precious stones. So yes, I would think so. She's a priestess, not a greedy woman. She sees herself infused with the essence of the Quetzal Flower – invested with the mission to inflame lust in others.'
I had feared so. 'Do you know–' I started, but didn't get any further.
The entrance-curtain was slammed against the wall with such force that one of its bells flew off – and landed at Teomitl's feet with a discordant sound.
The She-Snake, the keeper of the palace order, stood framed in the entrance, his black-streaked face almost flush against the darkness. By his side was a group of guards dressed in black – even in the dark, I could see their shaking hands, their pale faces. Something was wrong, and every single one of them reeked of magic, an odour that slipped within my lungs like smoke, thick and acrid.
'Acatl,' the She-Snake said. 'Teomitl.' He bowed a fraction, from equal to equal. 'You have to come now.'
'There's been another death?' I asked, my heart sinking. But why would everyone look in such disarray, if it was just one of the sick people who had died. 'Tizoc-tzin?' I asked.
The She-Snake shook his head. 'No. The war-council, Acatl. Someone has just made an attempt on the life of the Master of the House of Darkness.'
EIGHT
We followed the She-Snake to another part of the palace – less grand than the quarters of the imperial family, though still ostentatious enough, with rich frescoes of gods and warriors, and the smell of pine needles, a pleasant overlay over the harsher one of copal incense wafting from the huge burners.
To Teomitl's dismay, Nezahual-tzin had fallen in with us, as if nothing were more natural. 'Well, that's interesting,' he said in a conversational tone.
Teomitl's eyes tightened. 'This is a Mexica affair.'
'You forget.' Nezahual-tzin's broad face still bore that expression of distant amusement. 'What strikes Tenochtitlan will strike its neighbours, too – and Texcoco is not just any neighbour, but part of the heart and soul of the Triple Alliance.'
The courtyard we entered resembled Tizoc-tzin's private quarters in miniature: at the centre was a pyramid of limestone. Atop the stairway was a squat building, and on the platform that led up to it floated a round feather standard depicting a cactus with red fruit. The insignia was unfamiliar.
'Teomitl?' I asked, my face turned upwards.
My student shed Nezahual-tzin with the quickness and eagerness of a striking snake. 'It's his insignia,' he said. 'Pochtic, Master of the House of Darkness, Lord of the Eagle Prickly Pear.'
The entrance-curtain was held open by a slave, who bowed to Teomitl and Nezahual-tzin as they passed. In the antechamber a pile of sandals attested to the presence of several dignitaries: Teomitl and I removed ours, while Nezahual-tzin stood waiting patiently. Of course, he was a Revered Speaker and had no need to appear barefoot before Tizoc-tzin.
