The clawed hands over their heads clenched, unclenched, a sickening counterpart to the rhythm of the song. I couldn't hear Teomitl's breathing any more.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Teomitl rose from his kneeling position. He raised his head, and every one of the ahuizotls around him did the same.
Nausea welled up in me, sharp, uncontrollable.
Teomitl's eyes weren't jade any more; but yellow, the same colour as the beasts surrounding him.
'Acatl,' Neutemoc whispered. I said nothing. I waited for Teomitl to say something, anything that would prove he was still human.
Teomitl sucked in a breath, and then another – slow, deliberate. 'It… hurts,' he whispered. 'It…' And, for the first time, he wasn't a warrior or an Imperial Prince, but just a boy, thrust into responsibilities he'd never been meant to have.
Chalchiutlicue smiled. 'They'll come to your call.'
'And the child?' Neutemoc asked.
Teomitl shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts – which must have been moving in another place, far from the Fifth World. The ahuizotls' heads moved slightly; but they seemed more to be following him than mimicking his gestures. I didn't know whether that was an improvement. Everything about the ahuizotls made my hackles rise. But the Jade Skirt was right: Teomitl had made his choice, and couldn't go back on it.
'The child–' Teomitl whispered. 'I can feel him,' he said. 'Everywhere…' His face twisted. 'In the rain, in the waters of the lake… Like a wound in the Fifth World.'
'My husband placed a spell of concealment on the child,' Chalchiutlicue said. 'He was given to a family in the Floating Gardens in the district of Cuepopan, to raise as their own.' She opened Her hands wide. Within them lay a small, translucent jade figurine of a baby, shining with an inner light. She blew on it: the baby scattered, became dust blown into Teomitl's face. 'That is where you'll find him.'
Before going back, I retrieved my knives from the water, and put them back in my belt. They still pulsed, but the emptiness of Mictlan was somehow different, tainted with Chalchiutlicue's touch.
The ahuizotls followed us on the way back: an escort I could gladly have done without. Teomitl was silent, his eyes lost in thought. The veil of protection I'd always seen on him was still there. But it had subtly changed, shimmering with green reflections. Like my knives, Chalchiutlicue's magic had altered it.
Neutemoc, too, was silent. Brooding again, probably. I could only hope I wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts.
When we reached the remnants of the glyph through which we'd entered the Meadows, the world spun and spun, and coalesced into the small room where we'd started our journey.
Eliztac stood watching the brazier, in which the last remnants of the copal and resin figurine were consuming themselves. He looked up when we stepped out of the glyph. 'You've returned, I see.' His gaze froze on Teomitl. 'She's made you Her agent?'
Teomitl said nothing. His eyes were still unfocused.
'There's no time,' I said. 'We have to go to the district of Cuepopan. Can you lend us a boat?'
Eliztac's eyebrows rose. 'Always in a hurry, I see.'
'It's the rain,' Teomitl whispered, and his voice echoed, as if Chalchiutlicue were speaking through him. 'It's all wrong, can't you see?'
Eliztac said nothing. He had to have seen. 'This temple has many boats,' he said. 'But few boatmen who will be ready to brave Tlaloc's anger.'
'I'll row,' I said at the exact same time as Neutemoc, who glared at me, defiant. Of us both, he'd always been the faster rower; but it had been many years since he hadn't had a slave rowing for him.
Eliztac smiled. 'I'll take you to the docks, while you decide.'
When we did reach the docks, there wasn't any discussion: Neutemoc settled himself into the boat, taking the oars and glaring at me. Quarrelling would have been futile, so I let him be. In any case, I was more worried about Teomitl, who looked at the boat blankly, as if he had forgotten what it was.
'This way,' I said.
Teomitl sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, as if it had hurt him. 'We have to hurry,' he said. Around him, the rain fell in a steady curtain: magic shimmering around us, chipping away at our wards.
When our wards were gone… I didn't want to think on what would happen, but it was a fair bet the creatures would be close.
'I know,' I said. 'Get in.'
Teomitl laid an unsteady hand against the boat's edge. 'I–' he said. He breathed in, again. 'I'm not used to it.'
I'd never been a god's agent, but the Wind of Knives' powers had been invested in me, for a very short while. 'It will get easier as time passes.'
Teomitl snorted. 'A good guess,' he said. He climbed into the boat; Neutemoc stilled its rocking effortlessly.
'I'll guide,' Teomitl said.
There was still a chance we would find the child before the full measure of His powers manifested; before he became much harder to kill. But Teomitl was right. We had to make haste.
The streets and canals Neutemoc rowed through were deserted: the unexpected, unrelenting rain seemed to have sent everybody indoors. At one intersection, a woman stood watching the water level under a bridge, her face creased into a frown. I could understand her worry: all of Tenochtitlan was an island, and the lake was our foundation. A flood would be a disaster.
