and intense. 'If you take one more step, I'll fight you, I'll swear.'
I said nothing. My own position was already abundantly clear.
Teomitl looked from us to the old woman, who stood defiantly, her wrinkled face alight with a fierce passion. 'You have to seize the moment, or you'll never amount to anything. You know it.' Her voice rose, dark with hatred and spite. 'He asks you to wait, but will you ever have such a great opportunity again? Tizoc has fled the city with the priests of Huitzilpochtli, the clergy of Tlaloc and of Mictlantecuhtli are busy with the breach, and you have warriors behind you. Such a situation will not occur again, you know it. They never do.'
Teomitl was silent, for a while. At length, he looked up – at the Fifth Sun resplendent in the sky. 'No,' he said. 'You're right. It won't happen again.'
Her face split, in a wide, unpleasant grin of triumph, but Teomitl went on, 'But I'll make it happen. Someday.'
'You can't–'
He raised a hand, and even from where I stood I felt the pressure of Chalchiuhtlicue's magic – a shockwave that all but sent her sprawling against the pillars of the patio. 'Don't think of telling me what I can and can't do.'
The old woman sprang up, the magic of Toci rising around her in a tide. The shadows that rippled around her were the colour of earth, as brown as cacao beans or pinolli. 'You–'
Teomitl's lips quirked up. 'You wield the magic of Grandmother Earth, but I have other ones. And do you truly think the army would follow you, Chalchiuhunenetl?'
For a moment, they stared at each other, and then the old woman looked down with a grimace. 'You win this. For now. Don't mock Grandmother Earth, boy. She'll come for you, too.'
'In the end, we all come to Her embrace,' Teomitl said. He appeared unperturbed.
'My Lord? ' the leader of the warriors said.
'You heard,' Teomitl said. 'Go back. Tizoc-tzin is the rightful Revered Speaker. I'll take no action against that – for now.' His eyes drifted, for a moment, in my direction: they were jade from end to end, the cornea drowned in murky reflections.
'You mean we came here for nothing?' The other warriors nodded, staring at each other with a definitely hostile mood.
Teomitl drew himself up, the jade-coloured light spreading from his eyes onto his face until he seemed a statue – and further, the whole courtyard dancing on the rhythm of underwater waves, everything smelling of brackish water and churned mud. 'There will be no battle today,' he said, and his voice, ageless, malicious, was no longer wholly his. 'Leave this place.'
The warriors looked from him to the old woman – whom they clearly didn't appreciate. Their faces were drained of colour in the light of Jade Skirt's magic, like those of drowned men, and they breathed heavily, as if something were constricting their lungs.
Faster than I'd thought possible, the courtyard emptied, until we were the only ones remaining – and Teomitl, still in the thrall of the goddess.
'Well, well,' Nezahual-tzin said, speaking up. 'Allow me to congratulate you on a wise decision.'
Teomitl looked at him, as if unsure whether to strike him down.
'Teomitl!' Mihmatini said, sharply. 'Let go.'
He shivered, and sank to one knee, the divinity draining out of him like blood from a torn vein. His eyes rolled up, became brown once more. 'Don't toy with me,' he said to Nezahual-tzin, rising up in a fluid movement.
'Of course I wouldn't dream of it.'
'Acatl-tzin. Nezahual. Acamapichtli.' He bowed to us, and then, very stiffly, to Mihmatini. 'If you'll excuse us.'
She nodded. I watched them both walk away, into another courtyard. They were not holding hands. I wondered what they'd say to each other; wondered if, as with Tizoc-tzin, Teomitl's rash actions had created a chasm that would never heal.
Acamapichtli was speaking with his Consort in a low, urgent voice, with no eyes to spare for us. The old woman – Chalchiuhunenetl – had stayed. She was standing, looking at the charred corpse of CoatlMoquihuix-tzin, the expression on her face indescribable.
'He was her husband, you know,' Nezahual-tzin said, conversationally.
I hadn't even heard him come up to my side, but suddenly, he was there. 'Her husband,' I said, flatly. It couldn't be – she looked far too old for this – and then I remembered that served Grandmother Earth, and that her magic had probably aged and twisted her. 'Does it matter?'
'Not anymore, no.' Nezahual-tzin smiled, as dazzling as usual. 'Well, I'll leave you to clean this up. The next few years should be… interesting.'
There were explanations, and consequences, and, as Nezahual-tzin had foreseen, a substantial amount of formalities.
The plague didn't vanish altogether, but it became less virulent, less contagious. Of those not already dead, many would recover. But still – many would not, and many more would not rise at all from their sickbeds. The toll had been heavy.
Tizoc-tzin was coming back, and the She-Snake was making sure everything was ready for the confirmation ceremony. They'd bought slaves from the Tlatelolco marketplace, to replace the warriors who had died – ironic, in so many ways, but the priesthood seemed to be the only ones aware of this. Otherwise, things seemed to go on as they should.
Mihmatini had gone home, after a very lengthy conversation with Teomitl – and a glance cast in my direction which expressed more than words. Whatever rift Teomitl had opened in their marriage was going to need more than a few hours' talk to solve.
Neutemoc, surprisingly, had barely said anything: he'd helped me argue with Quenami, shaking his head at some of the latter's more arrogant pronouncements, and remained behind in the palace, talking to his fellow warriors, and generally making sure that Tizoc-tzin, outwardly, would find the support he craved – an illusion that
