perhaps worse here, in the shadow of the Imperial Palace. 'People are always afraid of what they can't understand. But you know what? If you can do that already, then you'll be very powerful when you're older, and nobody will bother you.'
She looked sceptical, as if that wasn't a good thing. In truth, I wasn't sure it was.
Her jaguar spirit was prowling at the foot of the wall, and growling – its small, insubstantial frame dwarfed by the bulk of the calmecac's wall. It could probably smell the spoor of the other nahual.
I finally realised what had been bothering me about that wall. It was too high to leap, even for a nahual. In spite of their supernatural origins, nahuals retained the characteristics of mundane jaguars: teeth, claws, muscles. No jaguar, not even an adult, could have leapt over that wall.
Then how had the nahual left the calmecac? And why did the trail lead here, if it hadn't jumped over that wall?
'Do you know what's behind that wall?' I asked the girl.
She shrugged. 'The outside.'
'The Sacred Precinct?'
'Yes.'
I glanced at the nahual jaguar, and then at the rooms, which appeared quiet. Surely, if the nahual was still in this school, Ceyaxochitl's warriors would have flushed it out? 'If you remember anything about that beast – anything about tonight, will you ask the priestesses to send for me?'
She nodded, eagerly. She seemed to care far more for me than for the priestesses. Not that I could blame her. I mostly felt the same about the other clergies: those of the great gods like Tlaloc, God of Rain, and Huitzilpochtli, Protector of the Mexica Empire. Their top ranks were filled with social climbers too cowardly to go to war. As I had been, back when I had left the calmecac and chosen to become a priest.
It wasn't a subject I was ready to dwell on; especially not in the middle of the night, at the hour when the aimlessness of my life weighed like layers of gold on my chest.
I gave the girl my name and bade her a good night. Then I went out of the calmecac, to see what was on the other side of the wall.
As the girl had said, not much. This particular section of adobe wasn't connecting with another temple, or warriors' barracks: it simply faced the deserted expanse of the plaza. A little further away, the ground sloped down, towards the elongated shape of the ball-game court. With the Cloud Serpent's sight still on me, I should have seen the trail, had there been one. But there was nothing. It was as if the nahual had vanished in mid-air.
Feeling faintly ill at ease, I went back into the school, to look for Neutemoc.
Yaotl took me to where Neutemoc was kept: a room at the back of the calmecac. He walked by my side with a faint trace of amuse ment in his dark eyes, but said nothing. Neither did I – I, too, could play the game of withholding information.
Two of Ceyaxochitl's warriors, with the fused-lovers insignia of the Duality on their cotton-padded armour, stood guard at the door. They let us pass in silence.
It must have been a teaching room for the girls: weaving looms and discarded threads littered the ground. Neutemoc was sitting in its centre, cross-legged on a woven reed mat, hands on his knees, staring distantly at the frescoes on the walls, as if deep in meditation. He wore his Jaguar Knight's regalia: the jaguar's skin tightly covering his body, and his face showing through the animal's open jaws.
I stopped for a moment, suddenly unsure of what I'd say to him. He wasn't quite the brother I remembered from four years ago. His features had hardened in some indefinable way, and slight wrinkles marred the corner of his eyes, lessening the aura of arrogance that had once permeated every part of his body. He smelled, faintly, of the magic in the room, but most of it was gone: washed, no doubt, at the same time as his hands, which were now clean, their skin the colour of cacao beans.
Neutemoc raised his eyes when I came in. 'Hello, brother,' he said. He didn't sound surprised, or angry, just thoughtful. But his fingers tightened on his knees.
I had been bracing myself for seeing him again, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. His face, in the dim light, looked like a younger, softer version of Father's: an unexpected, additional discomfort.
I knelt by his side and looked at him, trying to see evidence of guilt, or remorse – of anything that would indicate he'd summoned the nahual. His face was clear, guileless, as smooth as that of a seasoned patolli gambler. 'Dealing in magic?' I asked, as calmly as I could.
He shook his head. 'I had nothing to do with that, believe me.'
The anger in his voice belied his calm assurances. 'I don't,' I said, curtly. 'Why don't you tell me what you were doing in Priestess Eleuia's rooms, overturning furniture?'
Neutemoc didn't move, but his eyes flicked away from me. 'I don't have to explain myself to you.'
'Have you no idea of what trouble you're in? What happened tonight, Neutemoc?'
He opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind with a visible effort, and finally said, 'It's none of your concern.'
None of my concern? Huitzilpochtli curse him, could he be so unaware of what he risked? He'd always been more concerned with the turmoil of the battlefield than with politics, but still… 'I think you'll find it has become my concern tonight,' I said, with some exasperation, remembering that his silence was one of the reasons we'd quarrelled four years ago. 'From the moment magic was used to abduct her.'
Neutemoc shifted, looked at the frescoes. 'I know I'm in a bad situation, but I didn't do anything wrong. I'll swear it on any god you name.'
If only it were that simple. 'An oath, even by a Jaguar Knight, won't be enough in a court of law,' I said. 'Why don't you explain to me what happened?'
Neutemoc just stared at the frescoes. Finally he said, 'I came to visit my daughter Ohtli. She entered the calmecac a few months ago, and Huei thought I could see how our daughter was doing. I was halfway to Ohtli's room when I heard a noise coming from a nearby courtyard, and…' He trailed off, closed his eyes. 'When I entered the room, something leapt at me and knocked me against the wall. I was thrown unconscious and, when I woke up, your people had arrested me for the Duality knows what offence.'
His story was barely coherent. It didn't account for the blood, or the marks on him. 'And you overturned the furniture because you weren't sure what had leapt at you?' I asked, fighting to keep my sarcasm in check. 'Come on, Neutemoc. I'm sure you can do better than this.'
