Neutemoc resumed his march towards the lake; so did Teomitl and I. A dry, rustling sound came from behind us: the ahuizotls were following. No going back.
The path went straight towards the lake, and plunged into it. I didn't think we were expected to go underwater, though. Neutemoc stopped at the water's edge. He didn't say anything, but his whole stance radiated impatience. Where do we go now, Acatl? You who always have the answer to everything…
I turned, as slowly as I could. The ahuizotls had spread out in a ring, their wrinkled faces turned toward the lake. Waiting. For what? A signal to leap upon us?
The ground shook, under my feet. Magic surged from the mud, arcing through my back in a flash of pain. Water fountained from the lake, forcing its way into my hair, my clothes, into my bones.
When I managed to raise my gaze again, the goddess stood in the middle of the water.
No. She was the water: it flowed upwards, turning into Her translucent body – and then, higher up, solidifying into brown skin with opalescent reflections. I could see algae and reeds in Her skirt; and, far into the depths of Her lake, small shapes that might have been fish, or very young children, still swimming in the waters of their mother's womb.
'Visitors,' Chalchiutlicue said. Her voice was the storm-tossed sea, the gurgling of mountain streams, the wind over the empty marshes. 'It is not often that you brave My World.' In one hand She had a spindle and whorl; in the other, a small flint cutting axe.
I went down on one knee, keeping a cautious eye on Her face. 'My Lady,' I said. 'We have need of Your help.'
The Jade Skirt laughed, and it was the sound of water cascading into pools. 'And how may I help you, priest?'
'I…' I started, but Her eyes, as green and as opaque as jade, held me, silenced me. They were wide, those eyes, with small, black pupils inset like obsidian – wide open, and I was falling into Her gaze, a fall that had neither beginning nor end.
She was inside me, rifling through my mind with the ease of an old woman sorting out maize kernels. Memories welled up, irrepressible: Mother's angry face on her death-bed… Neutemoc's smile as he urged me to run after him in the maize fields… Mihmatini, as a baby, snuggling against my chest with a contented sigh, her heartbeat mingling with mine – a feeling I'd never experience with a child of my own… The clan elders, bringing my father's body back for the vigil – and I, standing at the shrine's gate, not daring to enter and make my peace…
Chalchiutlicue slid out of my mind, leaving a great, gaping wound. I stood once more on the shores of Her lake, struggling to collect myself.
'So small,' She said with a satisfied smile. 'So filled with regrets and bitterness, priest. Shall I summon the past for you? Shall I summon forth the spirits of the dead?'
I knew who She wanted to summon – who had drowned in the marshes: Father. 'You have no such power,' I said, shaking inwardly. 'The dead don't belong to you.'
'Is that so?' Her smile was mocking. 'The drowned are my province, and my husband's. And some others, too. Tell me now, shall I call up your father's soul from the bliss of Tlalocan?'
Father here, seeing me, seeing Neutemoc and knowing what I had done… She couldn't do that. She was powerful, but not capable of doing that. She just wanted to see me squirm. It was an empty threat. 'No,' I whispered. 'No.'
Her smile was even wider. 'So small, priest.' She reached out. Her huge hands folded around the knives at my belt, lifting them to the level of Her eyes and flinging them downwards into the mud. I could have wept. 'Carrying your feeble magic as if it could shield you.'
'We came for help,' I whispered, struggling to turn the conversation elsewhere. 'There is a child–'
Her face didn't move. 'How convenient. And tell me: why should I help any of you? You,' and She pointed to me, 'with your allegiance given to another. And you and you, serving the upstart, Huitzilpochtli?'
Neutemoc hadn't intervened. So usual of him. He'd done the same when Mother had died. But now, with the goddess's finger still pointed on him, he came forward. 'Your husband puts the Fifth World in danger.'
The Jade Skirt laughed again. 'Why should it matter to Me? I have seen five ages; and I ended the Third World. We'll start anew. We always do.'
'Not so soon,' I said, softly, knowing it wasn't an argument which would convince Her. 'This isn't the proper time, or the proper way.'
If She had been human, She would have shrugged. Instead, She made a wide, expansive gesture that made all the water of the lake spout upwards – and then fall back again, like an exhaled breath. 'The proper way? Doesn't Tlaloc do what We've all wished for? Tumble the Hummingbird from His place in your Empire, and give Us back the worshippers He took from Us?'
She was, like Tlaloc, like Xochiquetzal, one of the Old Ones: the gods who had been there before Huitzilpochtli, before the Sun God. But She was also Tlaloc's wife – and the Storm Lord had cheated on Her to make His agent child. As Neutemoc had cheated on Huei. I needed to find the words…
Huei. What would have I told Huei? I closed my eyes, for a brief moment, and then said, as softly as I could, 'Is this truly the way You would have wished this to go?'
Chalchiutlicue's jade-coloured eyes blinked, once, twice. 'You don't always choose your way, priest.'
'No,' I said, thinking of Huei, who was at this moment waiting for her sacrifice. If only things could have gone another way. 'Nevertheless…' She smiled again, but said nothing. 'That child should have been yours,' I said, softly. 'But it's not.'
She shook Her head, slowly, but didn't make any gesture to stop me. I took that as an encouragement. 'He slept with a mortal,' I said. 'Instead of asking you.'
When Chalchiutlicue spoke again, Her voice was lower: the soft sound of water, welling up from the earth. 'It couldn't have been Mine,' she said. 'Any child of gods would be a god, and subject to the same limitations. But you are right in one thing, priest. He didn't ask me.'
'Then–' Neutemoc started, but the Jade Skirt cut him off.
'In truth, I care little for your petty struggles. If you choose to make the Southern Hummingbird supreme, then you'll reap what you've sown. I have already had a world in which every mortal worshipped Me, where everyone gave their life's blood to sustain My course in the sky.' She smiled, and this time the nostalgia was
