'I'll put more wards up,' Mihmatini said. 'That might just fool them into thinking Neutemoc is still here.'
It might. It couldn't hurt, in any case. 'Don't overexert yourself.'
She shrugged. 'I can handle it.'
Neutemoc and Tepalotl were already outside, waiting for me, not speaking. With my spell of true sight still on Neutemoc, he'd had some misgivings about stepping so near the creatures. But Mihmatini's protection still held: the creatures approached, but could not see him, and soon lost interest.
We walked the first section of the journey in silence, Palli, Ezamahual and Neutemoc's slave in tow. I kept looking back, to see the creatures still frantically attacking the walls of Neutemoc's house. I feared they'd follow us, that one of them would turn and see my brother. But they didn't. Our protection spell hung firm, and we were soon out of sight.
We went south on the crowded Itzapalapan causeway, looking for the nearest boat to Chalco. Women from the southern suburbs passed us, going to the Tlatelolco marketplace to sell the wares on their backs: woven cloth of maguey fibres, ceramic bowls and tanned leather skins.
The Itzapalapan Causeway was the largest of all three causeways linking the mainland to Tenochtitlan. It forked near the shore: depending on the path you chose, two or three hours' walk would lead to Culhuacan or Coyoacan. On the fork was a fort manned by warriors with the Imperial insignia and, a little further down, a harbour where Palli bargained with a fisherman for passage to Chalco.
Ezamahual stood at my side, watching his fellow priest. 'He's always been good at this,' he said, with an encouraging smile at me. Trying to draw me out, I guessed – and was grateful to him for the attention.
'So I see.'
'He's the one who trades at the marketplace for the storehouse.' Palli finished his bargaining, and handed the fisherman a small purse. 'There you go,' he said. 'A day's journey.'
The fisherman's reed boat was larger than the ones our temple owned, and the small one in which Oyohuaca and I had chased Huei through the canals. We fitted, quite comfortably, in the front, even with Ezamahual's load of equipment.
As the fisherman pushed away from the shore, Neutemoc turned towards the city of Tenochtitlan, outlined in the morning sun: the gates leading to the southern districts of Moyotlan and Zoquipan; and the shadow of the Great Temple rising above all the pyramids of the Sacred Precinct. His face was a mask, and he did not speak a word.
In silence, we went south, leaving Lake Texcoco for Lake Xochimilco and the maze of Floating Gardens that sustained Tenochtitlan's agriculture. Even though it was daytime, I kept my eyes out for ahuizotls; but there was nothing in the water but weeds and algae. The steady splash of the oars was the only noise punctuating the journey: the boat, navigating unerringly between the rows of artificial lands, passed from Lake Xochimilco into Lake Chalco – before leaving us, late in the evening, at the limestone gates of the city of Chalco.
Before the gates, soldiers in feather regalia manned a fort much like the ones at the exit of Tenochtitlan. They had throwing spears and feather-covered shields, adorned with an upright coyote. They watched us with a bored air: we were only the last of a steady stream of travellers seeking passage through the city.
There were inns for travelling merchants, but Neutemoc had no wish to mingle with those he saw as his social inferiors. He was being ridiculous, and I argued with him about this, but he wouldn't budge. We ended up camping in a field, some hundred measures away from the city's first houses.
The air was warm, saturated with the promise of rain. The dry season was still upon us: Lake Chalco had sunk to low levels, revealing the woven mat-and-branches structure of the numerous Floating Gardens in the vicinity.
Neutemoc sat against a wizened tree, his whole body tense. He had spoken few words during the journey, sinking into a silence I wasn't sure I liked.
'Acatl?' he asked.
I raised my head. 'Yes?'
'Can you see whether those – things – are here?'
'They haven't followed us,' I said.
'Is that a guess, or an observation?'
I had been keeping a watch, but had relaxed it on the last leg of our journey. 'How would they come here?' I asked.
'So you're not sure.'
He had some nerve asking me this, after seemingly not caring about staying in his besieged house. 'No,' I snapped.
'Can you see?' Neutemoc asked again.
I was tired, and the last thing I wanted was to draw more of my blood to fuel a spell. But it was clear Neutemoc was going to work at me until I gave in.
I turned to Ezamahual, Palli, and Neutemoc's slave Tepalotl, who had been watching this in silence. 'Can you do a spell of true sight?'
Palli shrugged. 'Not a problem. What are we looking for?'
'Anything suspicious,' I said. I described the creatures as best as I could.
In the waning light, Ezamahual's face became pale, leached of colours. 'They don't sound very friendly,' he said.
Palli was already rummaging in Ezamahual's pack, withdrawing a caged owl and a purse of what looked like dayflower. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's go.'
Neutemoc said, 'Take Tepalotl if you're going far away from the camp. You'll need some kind of protection while you cast those spells.' His lips were pursed: clearly he didn't believe in their fighting abilities.
Neutemoc's slave Tepalotl followed my two priests in silence, leaving both of us at our improvised campsite. Neutemoc and I unpacked the maize flatbreads and the flasks of water, preparing the small meal we would eat. Kneeling in the mud, we looked at each other for a while, the same thought on our minds: could we start a fire here?
