Alas, it was not to be. For, as the trail went over the third of the wooden bridges in the causeway, it plunged downwards; and faded into nothingness. Huitzilpochtli curse the summoner and all his ilk. Once again, they'd planned ahead, and their trail was well hidden. I'd endangered myself for nothing.
I fumed all the way back to Neutemoc's house, indiscriminately consigning to the depths of Mictlan the summoners, Huei, Neutemoc, and the goddess Chalchiutlicue – though I still couldn't see Her part in this. She'd had nothing to gain from Eleuia's death. But still… I couldn't quite shake the impression that I was missing something, and that the key was Neutemoc.
At the gates of the house, the creatures were still crowding and the wards were much weaker than they had been an hour before. Mihmatini was on her knees in the courtyard, going through the last stages of renewing them again. She nodded grimly at me.
It was a blessing the creatures still couldn't reach Neutemoc. But Mihmatini was right. We couldn't protect him and his household for ever.
I woke up early: a few moments before dawn, at a time when the first of the kitchen slaves were pounding maize into flour. The rhythmic thump of the pestle against the mortar filled the courtyard as the sky lightened – bringing, as always, memories of a childhood I couldn't come back to.
In silence, I made my offerings of blood to Lord Death. The courtyard was still deserted. The slave who guarded the gates had obviously not been replaced since Quechomitl's death. I checked Mihmatini's wards, cursorily. The creatures were still scratching at the wall; but the wards had held. I kept seeing Teomitl's face, that moment before he turned and walked away from Neutemoc and me.
Who are you? Tizoc-tzin's cousin?
This wasn't going to be a good day.
I managed to get some spiced maize gruel from the kitchen, and ate it sitting under the pine tree, as the light flooding the courtyard turned from pink to white.
'I thought I might find you here,' Ceyaxochitl said.
Startled, I looked up. She was standing over me, leaning on her cane.
My first reaction wasn't exactly joy. 'What in the Fifth World–?' I asked, pulling myself to my feet.
'You haven't been at your temple lately.'
'No,' I said, curtly. The Southern Hummingbird blind me if I had to explain myself to her. 'I've been busy.'
'I've heard,' Ceyaxochitl said. She leaned on her cane, looking for all the world like an old woman enjoying the morning sun. I wasn't fooled. 'You have some interesting things outside, as well.'
'You saw them?' What a foolish question. She was Guardian of the Sacred Precinct, agent of the Duality in the Fifth World. Of course she'd see them.
'Yes,' Ceyaxochitl said. 'Persistent little things. A marvel of creation.'
'Creation?' I asked.
'Someone made them,' she said, as if it was obvious.
'A sorcerer?' I asked.
She shook her head. 'I think not. Though they might well have summoned them.'
'A god, then?' I asked. Chalchiutlicue had created the ahuizotls, after all, to keep watch over Her waters.
'Maybe,' Ceyaxochitl said.
The last thing I needed was gods thinking They could play games with our lives. Xochiquetzal and Her kind weren't much interested in the Fifth World, as a rule. But I guessed pliant toys were always irresistible.
'I take it that means you have no idea how to kill them?' I asked, unable to restrain my sarcasm.
Ceyaxochitl shrugged. 'Nothing is invulnerable. I can look into it, if you wish. Though I didn't come here for that.'
'No,' I said. 'What for, then?'
'My warriors trawled through Lake Texcoco. We've found some of Priestess Eleuia's things.'
'What things? Clothes?' Clothes would be carried by the current, and hard to find again. Heavy things, on the other hand, would sink to the bottom.
'A purse,' Ceyaxochitl said. 'And an obsidian knife in its sheath. Teomitl confirms that it belonged to her.'
'Teomitl,' I said, not without bitterness. 'What were you thinking, sending him to me?'
She looked at me – for once, genuinely surprised. 'It seemed obvious, Acatl. The boy needs guidance, badly. Ever since the death of his mother he's grown up like a wildflower.'
'And I was to train him?' I asked.
'I don't see what there is to be angry about.' Her voice was infuriatingly reasonable.
'You don't?' I asked. 'I almost got him killed by a beast of shadows, and you ask what the problem is?'
'He's a grown man,' Ceyaxochitl said. 'He can take his own risks.'
'No,' I said. 'A grown man can, but the brother of the Emperor?' If he had died under my responsibility, the Imperial Guards would have arrested me immediately.
'The Emperor has many brothers,' Ceyaxochitl said. 'Not all of whom reached adolescence.'
I was shaking, badly. 'Then tell me this: how far away is he from being Revered Speaker?'
'Tizoc-tzin will be Revered Speaker when Axayacatl-tzin dies in the next few weeks.' Ceyaxochitl said 'when', not 'if'.
'And when Tizoc-tzin is crowned?' I asked. 'What will Teomitl be?'
She had the grace to look away. 'Master of the House of Darts, if he has proved himself.'
Master of the House of Darts. Commander of the greatest arsenal in Tenochtitlan, all the paraphernalia of
