It was too late now. I'd stop at the Duality House on my way to the temple, to see what could be done. 'But I don't think she's alive any more,' I said to Mihmatini.
'Then you'll never find her,' Mihmatini said. 'Few things are as anonymous as corpses.'
She'd changed. She spoke like an adult, sure of herself. And yet her face was still that of the baby sister whose first steps I'd watched. It was unsettling. Had time passed so quickly, leaving me with nothing but my sterile priest's calling as my own?
'I know,' I said, quietly, unwilling to delve deeper into the subject. 'But at this moment, all I need to prove is that Neutemoc didn't summon that beast of shadows. We'll see about the rest later.' Such as explaining to Neutemoc what his wife had done.
'Very well,' Mihmatini said. 'I'll come tomorrow. At your temple?'
'Tomorrow, at midday,' I said.
She nodded. 'You could stay here to get some sleep, you know. You're in no state to traipse through the streets.'
I heard what she wasn't telling me: that the house without either Neutemoc or Huei would be huge, filled with slaves who barely knew Mihmatini. I wished I could comfort her; but I had to go back to my temple and gather all I could to get Neutemoc freed.
'I can't,' I said. 'Not tonight.'
Tomorrow… tomorrow, if things went well and the High Priest of Tlaloc didn't have his way, Neutemoc would be home. He'd take care of her: she was blameless in the whole matter.
Mihmatini shook her head. 'You're not walking home in this state. I'll get Oyohuaca to row you back to the Sacred Precinct.'
I would have protested, but in truth I felt too tired for that. I rose, now used to the sharp pain that accompanied every one of my movements, and bade her goodnight. 'See you tomorrow then.'
'You fool,' she said as I limped into the courtyard. But her voice was more amused than angry. 'Give those wounds a chance to heal.'
I did not answer, and left Neutemoc's house without giving her further incentive to tease me.
Oyohuaca rowed me back to the Sacred Precinct in silence and left me by the western docks. Flotillas of reed boats, each bearing the insignia of the temple to which they belonged, bobbed in the darkness. Somewhere at the back would be the large ceremonial barge reserved for the High Priest for the Dead, its prow painted the colour of bone, its oars carved with owls and spiders.
From the docks, it was but a short walk to the Duality House; but this left me so exhausted I was thankful to Mihmatini for insisting I take a boat back to the Sacred Precinct.
The Duality House was still bustling at this hour of the night, and Ixtli still wasn't sleeping. Did he ever sleep? He listened to my account, cocking his head from time to time. 'Very well,' he said when I was done. 'I'll take some men and go to the Floating Garden. But–'
'I know,' I said. The trail was old by now, and it was mundane, not magical. Whoever had come for Eleuia – whoever had instigated the whole affair – had had the intelligence never to handle magic themselves. Even if they did find a trail, I wouldn't have results by the next afternoon. 'Do what you can,' I said.
I was about to leave the house when I saw a familiar figure ahead of me: Yaotl, Ceyaxochitl's messenger. He was striding ahead, not looking at me; but he did turn back when I called his name.
'Acatl,' he said. 'What a surprise. How goes your investigation?'
'As well as I can be,' I said, tartly. 'Where are you off to so fast?'
Yaotl shook his head, wryly amused. 'To an interesting place, no doubt.'
Huitzilpochtli blind him. He was as unhelpful as ever. 'Let me guess,' I said, more angrily than I'd intended. 'The Imperial Palace.'
He grew thoughtful. 'I might. But it doesn't concern you, does it?'
'It might,' I said. 'I'm planning to attend an Imperial Audience tomorrow.'
'For your investigation?' Yaotl looked at me for a moment. Finally, he laid a hand on my shoulder, in a mock-brotherly gesture that made me uncomfortable. 'I don't think there will be one.'
My heart sank. 'The Emperor is that ill?'
'I can't tell you more. But don't expect the Audience.'
'What happens to the cases he was reviewing?' I asked, my heart sinking.
Yaotl shrugged. 'Justice still has to move forward, doesn't it? I assume the High Priests will take care of them.'
The High Priests. The twin powers at the head of the Empire's religious structure. The High Priest of Huitzilpochtli was theoretically the most important one; but Ocelocueitl was an old man, tired by decades of overseeing the worship of the God of War.
Which left the other one: Acamapichtli, High Priest of Tlaloc: the same man who had been in such a hurry to have Neutemoc convicted.
TWELVE
I returned to my house, lay down on my reed-mat, and fell asleep almost immediately.
My sleep was short, and disturbed: in my dreams, I stood in the boat of reeds with deep cuts in my arms and chest. Behind me was the dark shape of the ahuizotl – and I rowed and rowed, despite the pain that every gesture aroused in me. I had only to reach the end of the canal; to reach the temple of Chalchiutlicue, where Huei was waiting for me, and everything would be made right.
But, no matter how hard I rowed, the boat never moved; and the yellow eyes of the ahuizotl broke the surface of the water; and it spoke, and its voice was that of the Wind of Knives.
I woke up with a start. Outside, the sun had just reached its zenith. It hung, swollen, just over my courtyard. I felt as if I hadn't slept at all. Not the best state of mind to enter an Imperial Audience.
I covered myself in a clean cloak, trying to ignore the insistent pain from my wounds, and went into my courtyard. It was a modest affair, a patch of marigolds, a pine tree and a small, covered well: nothing like Xochiquetzal's house, or even Neutemoc's. I sat cross-legged in the dirt before the well, thinking of what Yaotl had
