war. Heir-apparent to the Mexica Empire.
If he had proved himself. My task was all too obvious. 'I won't be his training ground,' I spat between clenched teeth.
'Why?' Ceyaxochitl's voice was genuinely curious. 'Think of the influence you'd have over him – a man who will one day be Emperor, the Duality willing.'
'I'm a priest. I don't meddle in politics.'
'Acatl.' There was pity in her voice – all the more worrying because she seldom showed compassion for anyone. 'Priests thrive on politics. If you wanted a life free of them, you should have been–'
'A warrior.' I knew. I also knew that I could never have been like Neutemoc, that I didn't have the courage to enter the battlefield, or the relentless will for combat that kept warriors going. And I also knew how much it hurt.
'If you won't take part in politics,' Ceyaxochitl was saying, 'politics will be the death of you.'
'I'll keep my head down.'
'Your head down?' she laughed. 'You're High Priest for the Dead. There's no hiding place any more.'
'I never asked to be High Priest,' I said. 'You got me into this.' It was all too easy to fling the accusation into her face.
She didn't move. She didn't rise to the bait as Neutemoc or Teomitl would have done. After a while, she said, tapping her cane against the ground, 'You can't remain small all your life, Acatl.'
'What if it's the only thing I want?' I asked, knowing that it was true. My place had been in Coyoacan, with my small parish – not in the grand temple of the Sacred Precinct, where I was as ill at ease as a fish on dry land.
She still wouldn't look at me. 'Everyone has to grow up and take responsibilities,' she said, in an unusually quiet voice. 'Even small, humble priests.'
'Not everyone,' I said. She was wrong. I wasn't made for any of the things she wanted me to do – neither for managing the politics linked to Teomitl, nor with my temple. Ichtaca would take care of that, much better than I could ever hope to do.
Ceyaxochitl made a small, annoyed gesture. 'Very well. Let's focus on the investigation, then. Do you want to see Eleuia's things?'
'How far is it?' I asked.
'Not far. They're at the Duality House.'
I didn't think anything would come of it, but I didn't want to leave an avenue unexplored. 'Let me warn my sister,' I said.
Ceyaxochitl was looking at the walls, cocking her head left and right. 'Your sister. The family's youngest, if I remember correctly. I assume she set the wards?'
'Yes.'
She nodded. 'She's good, Acatl.'
I smiled. 'But not, I think, bound for priesthood or guardianhood.'
Ceyaxochitl shrugged. 'Life has many paths,' she said. 'Anyway, with all those… things eating away at them, they're not going to last long, no matter how strong. Let me give you a hand to set up something more durable.'
Mihmatini did not take to Ceyaxochitl; but even she had to admit that the Guardian's work was impressive. By the time Ceyaxochitl was finished, the house shone as brightly as the sun, moon and stars combined. The walls were covered by an intricate network of shimmering lines, anchored between the underworld and the Heavens, and taking its strength from both.
At a guess, this would last for days.
'There,' Ceyaxochitl said. 'Let's go now.'
In a small room of the Duality House, Yaotl had spread out Eleuia's possessions on a reed mat: an obsidian knife with a hilt in the shape of a warrior and an ornate sheath; the closed purse, soaked with water. I fingered the knife – a sharp, deadly thing, but without a hint of magic – and its sheath of cured leather, with its straps cut open.
'You haven't opened it?' I asked, touching the purse.
'No,' Ceyaxochitl said. 'I kept it aside for you.'
Gently, I loosened the strings and tipped the contents of the purse onto the reed mat. Soggy cacao beans tumbled out; and dark-green discs, half-eaten by rot.
No. Not discs. Plants.
I picked up one, ignoring the mouldy smell that wafted into my nostrils. It had been sliced off with three expert knife-cuts. In the centre was a lighter circular area, no larger than the tip of my finger.
'Peyotl?' I said, aloud. 'I didn't know the priestesses of Xochiquetzal partook of it.' Peyotl, collected from the top of a cactus, was a powerful drug that allowed some priests to enter a divinatory trance. One of its first effects was nausea, and a sense of dislocation from the world.
Ceyaxochitl shook her head. 'They shouldn't, but it's not forbidden.'
Something about peyotl was troubling me. Something about Neutemoc. It wouldn't come back, though. I sighed. 'Not much of interest.'
Ceyaxochitl did not bother to comment.
'And the mark on Eleuia's body?' I asked.
'Yaotl has been making enquiries. I'll let you know when we have something.'
As I walked out of the Duality House, she added, 'I'll look into the creatures and help your sister with the wards, if they don't hold. But if I were you, I'd get your brother out of Tenochtitlan for a while.'
'Why?' I asked.
