with something very like the will to seduce – somehow transfigured, shaped into an instrument of the law. Driven, Nezahual-tzin had called her.
But driven by what? The desire for justice, or one of Xochiquetzal's plots?
'It's a serious accusation,' I said, finally. And, if it was true…
No. I couldn't be like Teomitl, and take risks as easily as I breathed.
'It's a serious crime,' Xiloxoch said. Her voice took on the singsong accents of an admonition. ''The city has given you a plume of heron feathers, the city has given you paper clothes. You are the slave of the city, the servant of the people. Do not let your words ripen and rot.'' She did smile, then; and it was terrible to behold, a thing without joy.
I didn't like that. Whatever her motivations – and they had to be more complicated than a simple will for justice – it was still… troubling. 'Coatl,' I said, slowly. 'Pochtic.'
'Acatl-tzin–' Teomitl said, 'You don't think–'
I wasn't in a state to think, that was the problem. 'Eptli is dead. Coatl is in isolation. Pochtic has been savaged.'
Xiloxoch hadn't moved – she stood as straight as a thrown spear, waiting with undisguised impatience. Still, she'd moved a fraction at the last – something about Pochtic was either news, or unexpected.
'Whatever testimony you have,' I said to Xiloxoch, 'it won't last long.' And, to Teomitl: 'You're wrong.'
For a moment – a bare, fleeting moment – I saw the harshness of jade in his features, and the shadow that spread to his eyes – and I thought he was going to reprimand me, to deny my right as his teacher. But then he shook his head, and some of the tension in the air vanished. 'Wrong? Prove it.'
Think, think, Southern Hummingbird curse me. 'I want to know what you have,' I said to Xiloxoch. 'Once again, it is a serious accusation that you bear. We can't act prematurely on that.'
'I slept with Eptli, once or twice. He made – careless confessions, after he was spent.' Her lips twisted. 'He was so sure of himself, that one. Didn't think for a moment that the captive would fail to be awarded to him.' She spat on the ground; her saliva glistened on the dry earth.
'And you still slept with him.' I understood her less and less – was her patron goddess Xochiquetzal behind that? The Quetzal Flower's intrigues tended to be far more vicious and far less complicated than that.
'He was handsome,' Xiloxoch said, dismissively. 'One might as well pick the prettiest ones.'
'That's not a very strong reason,' I said. 'Why did you pick him, Xiloxoch?'
She shook her head, but did not answer.
'Xiloxoch.' Teomitl said – his voice was soft, but it was no longer that of the young, unproven warrior. 'Someone has been spreading diseases in the heart of the Mexica Empire. This is also a serious crime.'
'I wouldn't know anything about that.' Her eyes had flared; her hands clenched. She looked more angry than fearful.
'Why pick Eptli, Xiloxoch?'
'I told you. For justice.'
'No,' I said, slowly. 'That's not what you told us. You said you'd learned of Eptli's transgression only after you slept with him.'
There was a soft, green light spreading – Teomitl's aura, giving everything the air of underwater caves. The air smelled of churned mud, with the salty aftertaste of blood – and it was thicker too, clogging in our lungs. I could hear Xiloxoch's rising breath – coming in shorter and more laboured gasps. 'Why?' he asked.
Last time I'd seen him try this, he'd almost killed a guard – but things had changed now, and he seemed more in control. Though one could never be sure, with the capricious Jade Skirt.
Xiloxoch's face was pale, her teeth drinking in the light and giving nothing back. 'He was such an arrogant, obnoxious man. Thinking all the quetzal feathers, all the jade of the Fifth World were his due. So used to riches he thought they could buy anything.'
The quintessential warrior – contemptuous of anything so feminine as sacred courtesans. 'In other words, the perfect worshipper of the Southern Hummingbird.'
Xiloxoch smiled, but said nothing.
'It's a serious accusation,' I said, again. 'But, if it's true, then they'll uphold the law, and Eptli will be stripped of rank, posthumously. Warriors were held to higher standards than commoners, by virtue of their higher knowledge and education. The war-council – the heads of the warriors, their role-models in the Fifth World – would be held to even more exacting rules.
'Come on,' Teomitl said. 'Let's see the magistrate, and we'll sort this out.'
I shook my head. The pattern was disturbing: if Xiloxoch's accusations were true, we had three people involved. Eptli had offered the bribe, Pochtic and Coatl had accepted it. Eptli was dead, someone had attacked Pochtic, and Coatl had fallen prey to the same sickness as Eptli. As to the prisoner Zoquitl – the prize in all of this – he had also died.
Whether Xiloxoch's accusations were true or not, someone seemed to be killing off everyone alleged to have taken part in the affair.
Was it someone else associated with Xiloxoch? 'Who else knows about this?' I asked her.
She started. 'I don't understand.'
'Don't take us for fools,' I said. 'As you said – everyone mentioned has died, or been attacked in some way. I find it hard to believe there is no connection.'
Xiloxoch's eyes flicked towards the ground. 'I didn't mention it to anyone. Why would I?'
Teomitl watched her intently – I wondered if he saw anything else, with the light of Jade Skirt so strong in his eyes – but at length he nodded. 'Let's go, Acatl-tzin. We've wasted enough time already.'
I thought, quickly. The coincidence was troubling, but then all the men she had accused were members of the war-council and what better way to sow chaos amongst us than target them – the supreme four, commanders
