It was as if a veil had been lifted from the world: suddenly I saw the whole of the Floating Garden. In the hut were the corpses I had already feasted on. By my side was a young, impatient warrior whose heart beat so strongly: such a treat, it would be such a treat to open his chest and feast upon it. But I couldn't. I had other tasks to take care of.
The world flashed, then went dark. When I opened my eyes I wasn't in the chinamitl any more but tumbling through an open gateway, into a house that was hauntingly familiar.
The sun hadn't yet set. I shied away from the light, growling softly, longing for the coldness of the Eighth Level, for the dry, clean smells of Mictlan. Here everything hurt, from the light to the sharp odour of maize wafting through the door.
A man laughed, high above me. I couldn't see his face: just a warm, beating heart with many years of life ahead of it. 'Such a powerful one. A very impressive summoning, my Lady.'
Another voice, deeper and graver. The heartbeat of this one was strong, brash. I salivated at the thought of devouring it. 'Don't gape. It is adequate for the task.'
A sullen laugh.
'My Lady, you know what we need,' the voice said, turning to the third person, the one who hadn't yet spoken: an angry heart, all twisted out of shape by hatred. 'Wait for night. And remember, do not kill. We need her alive.'
'I know exactly what you need,' the woman said. And the voice… The voice, too, was hauntingly familiar.
No. It could not be.
She knelt to grasp my head, raising my gaze towards her face. Her smell was intoxicating: anger and hatred and envy, all swirling around something else I couldn't name – and her heart… Such a young, delicate heart…
'This is what you will do,' she said.
And there was no doubt left; none at all. For the voice, unmistakably, belonged to my brother's wife, Huei. I must have closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was lying in the middle of the circle, sprawled over the beast's body. My chest ached fiercely under the bandages.
Teomitl's scowling face entered my field of vision. 'I told you–'
'Not to move around. I know,' I said, taking the hand he offered me, and rising. Around us, the moon cast its light on the desolate Floating Garden: the place where I'd accessed the beast's memories was now nothing more than a circle of charred ashes, blackened earth which would take years to heal. Mictlan's magic was anathema to life; and the beast had been bursting with it.
More damage to the harvest. Just what I needed. I tried to remain focused on this – to forget what I had seen – but I couldn't.
Huei.
My brother's wife had summoned the beast.
Why?
She hadn't seemed… I shook my head. She had seemed sincere; but, then, like Neutemoc, she had moved away from me in four years. She was no longer my only ally in my brother's house, but something else entirely.
It wouldn't matter. A chill was working its way into my bones. Summoning a beast of shadows carried its own penalty. The Wind of Knives would soon appear in Tenochtitlan, to kill Huei for her transgression.
What would I tell Neutemoc, when he came home to find his wife dead? Neutemoc was innocent of everything save adultery; but that thought didn't bring me any relief.
No. There had to be some explanation. Something. Anything that would explain the utter failure of Huei's marriage.
'We need to get back to the city,' I said to Teomitl.
He rowed me back to the shore in silence. As the oars splashed into the lake, I kept wondering when I would feel the first touch of cold on my spine. Seven years ago, I had merged my mind with the Wind of Knives to bring down an agent of Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror, and that mind-link had never quite died. When the Wind entered the Fifth World, I would know.
Teomitl was too tired to row farther than he had to. And I was not in a state to row either, with my injured arm. We left the boat at the edge of the Floating Gardens and walked north, back into the city of Tenochtitlan proper.
Teomitl didn't speak until we were walking once more on the familiar streets of the Moyotlan district, with the grand adobe houses of the wealthy rising all around us. 'Where to?' he asked. He was leaning on his crutch, his face transfigured by eagerness. I hated to dash his hopes, but there were things I couldn't let him see.
'Home, for you,' I said. I did not want to face the Wind of Knives; to face the darkness and the coldness, to plead for Huei's life even though I knew the Wind could not be swayed. But this was something that I would do alone. I would not drag someone else into it. The Wind of Knives would merely cut them down like maize, dispassionately judging that they had no right to speak with Him.
'What?' Teomitl asked. 'You promised–'
'No,' I said, hating myself for my cowardice. 'I allowed you to come with me. But what happens now is something you're not prepared for.'
No, not prepared for. That while my married brother was busy courting a priestess, his own wife, Huei, plotted with shadowy figures to get her revenge.
'I'm prepared,' Teomitl said, sullenly.
'You're in no state to fight.'
I could have predicted his next remark. 'Neither are you.'
'No,' I said. 'But there are other ways to fight.' Even magical weapons would shatter against the Wind of Knives, and nothing would stop or sway Him. How could Huei have been so foolish?
Teomitl was still watching me. 'Go home,' I said, as gently as I could. 'I'll call on you the next time there is something, promise. But this isn't the right time.'
