Eptli had been greedy and arrogant, thinking money could buy anything and everything – even status. Even the war-council for his trial.
It looked like Xiloxoch's accusations of bribery hadn't been a lie meant to sow chaos amongst us, after all.
Ezamahual rowed me back to the Sacred Precinct in silence, but steadfastly refused to leave me alone after that. 'You're in no state to walk, Acatl-tzin,' he pointed out, his eyes averted from mine, but with an utterly stubborn expression on his face.
I gave in – we could have argued for hours, and I was feeling none too steady at the moment, as if I were still standing in the boat on the water. 'Fine. Let's go to the Duality House.'
I found the Duality House in an unusual state of feverish activity: in addition to the crowd of supplicants gathered at the gates, the clergy seemed to be busy. Sober-faced priests and priestesses carried armloads of fruit and flower garlands from the storehouse to the shrine in the centre, and every entrance-curtain seemed to be drawn open, revealing small but fervent gatherings – two or three priests crouching on the ground, listening to the orator in the centre with focused intensity. What sent my hackles up, though, weren't the priests, but the dozen Jaguar warriors among them – leaning against frescoes, casually hefting worship-thorns in callused, bloodied hands, and generally doing their best to appear innocuous, their visit merely a coincidence in the grand scheme of things.
I wasn't fooled, and I very much doubted Tizoc-tzin would be, either.
Mihmatini was in her rooms, and received me almost immediately. Under the feather headdress, her face was pale and drawn, the lines at the corners of her eyes making her seem much older than her twenty years.
'Acatl. Yaotl told me you were alive, thank the Duality.' I'd expected a verbal flaying, but she merely sounded relieved.
'What's going on?' I asked.
'They're looking for Teomitl,' Mihmatini said.
'Who isn't here.' Yaotl had already told me he'd left.
'No,' Mihmatini said. She exhaled, slowly and deliberately – an easy expression to read.
'I'm not the first one to ask.'
Her gaze was bright, desperate. 'No. The She-Snake was here.'
Trust the She-Snake to always be near the heart of intrigues, but never quite embroiled in them. Careful and measured, like his father before him: the power in the shadows, never challenged or besmirched. 'What else did he say?'
'You already know it.'
'No,' I said. 'I'm not a calendar priest, and I've always been abysmal at divination. Tell me.'
'He said… to be careful. That Teomitl was playing a dangerous game, and that we could lose everything.' Her hand wandered to her cheek, scratched it. 'And I said I didn't know what game, and he left.' Her eyes wouldn't meet mine.
'But you know.' And hadn't told me – I suspected perhaps not even admitted it to herself. Then again, had I been any better? I'd received enough warnings – both in signs and speeches – and hadn't heeded any of them.
'There have been…' Mihmatini shook her head, angrily. 'The Duality curse me, I'm not about to behave like some gutless and bloodless fool. There have been signs, Acatl. Visitors at Neutemoc's house – Jaguar warriors and veterans, and too many noblemen to be relatives concerned with our old welfare. And an old woman, several times.'
'An old woman?'
'Yes. Why are you interested in that? I would have thought the warriors were more significant.'
'Significant, but not unexpected.' My hands had clenched into fists; I forced them to open again – relaxed, carefree. 'The old woman – you might know that when he almost died of the sickness, it was Toci's magic which saved his life.'
Toci. Grandmother Earth. The aged, ageless woman; the bountiful and damaged earth that we broke anew with every stroke of our digging sticks. Most of Her devotees were women past their prime – the younger ones tended to call on the more youthful Xochiquetzal, like the courtesan Xiloxoch; the men chose other deities altogether.
'But I don't see what this has to do with anything,' Mihmatini said, slowly and carefully, as if she stood on the edge of a great chasm, listening to the whistle of the wind in her ears.
'I don't know,' I said. Gods help me, I didn't know. I just didn't like any of it. First, Jade Skirt's magic; now Teomitl's odd behaviour.
'Well, you might be content with that, but I intend to find out what's going on.' Her hands shook, and for a moment there was a glimmer of tears in her eyes. 'He always gets into scrapes bigger than he is. I – I need him back, Acatl.'
'We'll find him,' I said. 'He's still my responsibility, remember?'
'You don't act like he is.'
'He's my student, not my child,' I said – and immediately regretted it: by becoming his wife and tying her garment to his, Mihmatini had taken on the responsibilities of both sexual partner and mother to him – nourishing him just as his mother had once done.
My sister grimaced, but said nothing, even though it cost her. I mentally vowed to have pointed words with Teomitl – plotting the gods knew what against his brother was one thing, but giving his wife sleepless nights quite another.
But I did need to check one thing, before it cost me my own night's sleep. 'I need to ask,' I said, spreading my hands in a gesture of apology. 'Has he been talking about his brother to you – about our choice of Revered Speaker?'
'Not in complimentary terms, no…' Her voice trailed off, and she looked at me. 'Acatl.'
Much as I wished to, I couldn't lie to her. 'You know what he wanted, more than anything else; you heard him as well as me. He wants things now, not five or ten years into the future.'
'But…'
I couldn't think of any comforting lies. 'We need to find him.'
