Because – because it was the Fifth World, because I knew it would collapse if Teomitl did this. And something else – as usual, in the end, it is the smallest and pettiest things that define us. 'You're my student. Whatever you do is what I taught you.'
'Do you truly believe that?'
'I–' He was my beloved son, as akin to me as the blood of my blood; he made my face wide, gave me the pride I would never have as a childless priest. Neutemoc had said children went astray, but most children didn't end up endangering the safety of the Fifth World. It was his pride, his accursed pride, and his desire to do what he believed was for the good of the Mexica – regardless of whether it actually was good for them.
But…
He did have doubts. I had seen them. There was a crack.
Tizoc-tzin. He did all this because of Tizoc-tzin – because the man he had admired, the man who had taught him politics and tactics, had turned out to be such a disappointment. He did it because he didn't want Tizoc-tzin to rule us.
'There was someone else who reached for the Turquoise and Gold Crown in a time of turmoil,' I said, slowly. 'Someone who thought it had been denied to him for too long, and grasped it before he was ready.'
Teomitl paused – his hand frozen in the act of lifting up his blade.
'If you do this, if you seize power now, when we're most vulnerable, then you'll be just like him. Just like Tizoc-tzin – throwing the Mexica Empire in disarray just for the sake of something you think should be yours.'
'Don't listen to him.' The old woman's voice was low and fierce. 'He doesn't know what he's talking about. He's a priest who won't join the heights of the powerful; a poor, sad little dove who keeps looking down at the ground whenever an official passes him, doomed to always be carried in someone's arms, like a child wrapped in a mother's mantle.'
Teomitl turned, halfway, to look at both of us. In the warm light of the afternoon, his haughty profile had never looked more like Tizoc-tzin's. 'You're wrong,' he said – not slow or stately, he'd never been much for either. 'Both of you. I – I do it because there is no other choice. Because Tizoc will lead us into ruin.' He turned, to look at me – his eyes wide, his face ordinary again, with no trace of Jade Skirt's magic, but his gaze as piercing as a spear. 'Don't you believe this, Acatl-tzin?'
'You know what I think.'
'No,' Teomitl said. 'I know you think the Fifth World can't take another change of Revered Speaker, not so soon. But what do you think of Tizoc?'
'I–' I was taken aback at the question – and the only thing that occurred to me was the truth. 'He killed the clergy of Tlaloc, as surely as if he'd cast the spell himself.' Over and over, we had seen evidence of his growing paranoia, of his instability.
'And you believe he should rule, until such time as he dies?'
'No.' The truth, out of my mouth before I could call it back. 'But I can't condone this, Teomitl. I can't – one doesn't become Revered Speaker or receive the blessing of the Southern Hummingbird by feats of arms.'
'Ask the coyote's son,' Teomitl said, with a small curl of his lips. I could feel Nezahual-tzin's presence behind me, but he was silent – as if this were merely between Teomitl and I. He had said, many times, that he wouldn't interfere. 'He who came to his mat borne on the shoulders of Tenochtitlan's warriors.'
'That's–' I took in a deep breath. He – I thought of Tizoc-tzin again, of the paltry forty prisoners, who hadn't even been sacrificed; of the confirmation that wouldn't even have the semblance of a real war, coming on the heels of a failed coronation war and a failed investiture ceremony. But I was High Priest; I served the Mexica and the Revered Speaker – it had been one thing to oppose Tizoc-tzin when he had been Master of the House of Darts, but now that he was Revered Speaker my loyalty was to him, and, like the She-Snake, I might disagree with his actions, and try to steer him back to the right path, but to conspire in order to depose him? It would have been against any order, any
balance that I served. Teomitl was wrong: this was no way to solve the problem.
'I–'
I thought of the star-demons; of the plague; of Moquihuix-Coatl and the chaos in the city. Did I really want this – more souls creeping back through the cracks in the world, creatures of the underworld amongst us? I kept the balance – which was my duty, my destiny.
Just as ruling the Mexica Empire was Teomitl's destiny.
As he had said, there was no solution – no clean, clear-cut way out of this tangle we'd worked ourselves into. Seeking to preserve the balance had led us to opening the rift, and this in turn had led to the plague.
We did it, Acamapichtli had said. I'd said we'd done the right thing, and not believed a word of it. Teomitl wasn't blameless, but it was also our insistence on preserving the balance at all costs, our fear of breaking the Fifth World's equilibrium, which had led us to this.
And, really, how long could we continue like this?
'You'll rule,' I said, to Teomitl. 'She's right, it's your destiny.'
He grimaced. 'If it's to tell me to wait, I've heard it all.'
'I'm not asking you to wait for Tizoc-tzin's death.' The words were lead on my tongue. 'Let it pass, Teomitl. Wait until Tizoc-tzin is confirmed as the Revered Speaker – until he has a stable reign.' And pray, all the while, that there would be no other major disaster. The breach was diminished, and the likelihood of this ever happening again was low – but low didn't mean non-existent.
'You're asking this as my teacher?'
I could have said yes, and we both would have known it for the lie it was. 'No. You haven't been my student for a while.' All children grew, and went astray – unable to fulfil their parents' dearest dreams. All students became men, and young girls grew and changed, too.
You're such a fool, Acatl, my sister's voice said in my mind. Always blind to change.
'I'm asking this as one man to another,' I said.
Teomitl looked from me to the warriors – and then to Mihmatini, who still stood rigid, with her hands clenched into fists. 'You're my wife. You wouldn't–' he said, and then shook his head again, recognising that she would. 'Everything came together so beautifully.'
'No. You only thought it was coming together. We saw everything coming apart.' Mihmatini's voice was low
