Yaotl detached himself from the wall. His scarred face was thoughtful. 'Still some time, I'd say. If everything had been ready–'
'Yes,' I said. If everything had been ready, and the attack launched on the Imperial Palace, there would have been no need to kill the Jaguar Knights. If the creatures had done so, it was because Commander Quiyahuayo still posed a danger to them. Because the child was still vulnerable.
'We have to find him,' Teomitl said, voicing what we both thought. I wasn't sure what Neutemoc thought: if he still believed we were crazy to impugn Eleuia, to imagine wild stories of gods taking over the world.
Yaotl's voice was grave. 'Easily said.'
'Commander Quiyahuayo knew…' Neutemoc started, and then he shook his head. 'He died in battle. He'll be in the Heavens, won't he? Out of your influence.'
'Yes,' I said. And I wasn't fool enough to attempt another summoning without divine favour. 'We need–' Help. We needed help, and from someone who both had some idea of what Tlaloc was up to, and who would be favourable to us. We needed divine powers on our side, no matter the price we had to pay. 'We need to find a god,' I said.
Teomitl nodded. 'Which one?' he asked, simply, never thinking of what the price or the difficulty would be.
Not Huitzilpochtli: He was as weak as the dying Emperor, and as ignorant. Not the Quetzal Flower: She was on Tlaloc's side, and without Ceyaxochitl we would get no answers from her. Not Lord Death: my patron had made it clear that He would take no part in the Fifth World's affairs.
Who would stand against the Storm Lord?
I remembered Commander Quiyahuayo's words:
An ahuizotl had killed Eleuia, dragging her down into the muddy depths of the lake, and feasting on her eyes and fingernails. An ahuizotl: a creature of Chalchiutlicue, Tlaloc's wife. His wife. And Tlaloc's child, which wasn't Hers, but Eleuia's. I doubted the Jade Skirt would have been happy about the whole affair.
'I think I know who we can try to see,' I said. 'Chalchiutlicue.'
'The Storm Lord's wife?' Teomitl asked. 'Why not?'
Neutemoc grimaced. 'You have no idea how to summon Her, do you?'
I shook my head. 'To ask a favour of a god, you don't summon. You go into Their territory.' I wasn't looking forward to that: men were weak enough in the Fifth World, but in a god's land… We would be as helpless as Xochiquetzal was on earth. Perhaps even more so.
'Into Her territory,' Teomitl repeated. 'Lake Texcoco?'
'No. Into Tlalocan.' The Blessed Land of the Drowned, where Chalchiutlicue had Her gardens.
It was also Tlaloc's country; but I was hoping that the god would be too busy with His child to pay much attention to us.
Neutemoc snorted. 'And you know how to get there?'
Tlalocan, as I had seen, was closed to me. But the way might yet be opened for us, by someone who had the Jade Skirt's favour.
'I know a priest,' I said. Half a lie. Eliztac hadn't been helpful last time I'd seen him. But he was the only priest of Chalchiutlicue I'd had dealings with. I tried, resolutely, not to think of Huei. Surely, if I could appeal to Huei…
But it wasn't my place. 'You and I can go to see him,' I went on.
Yaotl nodded. 'Teomitl and I will stay here, to inform Mistress Ceyaxochitl when she gets back.'
I visited, briefly, Ceyaxochitl's storehouse: a low, pillared room with row upon row of magical objects – everything Guardians had thought might be useful in the event of an emergency. At the back was a box made of glued human bones; and inside I found what I was looking for: ten obsidian knives pulsing with the magic of Mictlan. I withdrew three from the box, and put them into the sheaths at my belt, to replace those I had lost.
Under the thatch awning of the courtyard, I packed ceramic bowls and polished maguey thorns into a new bag. I was almost finished when footsteps echoed under the awning.
'Acatl-tzin?' Teomitl's voice asked.
I raised my eyes, briefly, knowing why he was here. 'Yes?'
'I–' He looked at me, biting his lips. 'Let me come with you and Neutemoc.'
'It's too dangerous. I've already put you in danger too much as it is.'
Teomitl shook his head, half-exasperated. 'I won't be coddled. I'm a warrior, not some old-woman priest…' He stopped, his face hardening. 'I'm sorry.'
At least he had the honesty to voice the warriors' prejudice aloud. 'You're heir-apparent to the Mexica Empire.'
'My brother isn't dead,' Teomitl said, fiercely. 'Tizoc is still Master of the House of Darts.'
'He's very ill,' I said. 'Lord Death waits for him. And when that moment comes–'
'It hasn't come.' He held himself straight, impatiently. 'I have to prove myself. You'd deny me that?'
Ceyaxochitl had asked me the same question. I made him the same answer. 'I'm not your testing ground,' I said.
'I'm not asking you to be,' he snapped. 'Just to let me have my chance. You heard Mahuizoh. 'An unbloodied pup'. That will be all they think of me, at the Imperial Court. By your doing.'
The accusation, as unfair as it was, didn't ring quite true in his mouth. 'It's not the Court you're trying to impress,' I said. 'Nor was it the Court you thought of when you followed Eleuia.'
Teomitl said nothing. He watched me, one hand on his macuahitl sword. 'No,' he said. 'But it doesn't concern you.'
'Doesn't it?' I finished packing my bag, and laid it aside.
