“It sounds as if someone wants something you have,” Uncle Tlaloc said mildly.
“So it would seem, Uncle-tzin.”
“What?” His voice had the sting of a cracking whip. “What is it they seek?”
“On my grave, Uncle, I do not…”
“What did you take from the huetlacoatl?” he roared. I flinched from the sound.
“Nothing, Uncle. I swear it. Ask Ninedeer, if you do not believe me.”
“Others are already asking,” Uncle said slowly. “Your cousin Ninedeer was taken yesterday. By the Emperor’s Shadow, apparently. It seems His Imperial Majesty has decided to interest himself in the matter of the huetlacoatl’s death after all.”
I realized I was sweating in spite of the air-conditioning. Sweat had already soaked the armpits of my cotton tunic and was starting to trickle down my chest and back. This could probably get worse, but right now I couldn’t imagine how.
He looked at me again in a way that wasn’t at all settling. “It is not unknown,” he said softly, “for someone to try to keep something back if the prize is rich enough.”
I remembered what had happened to those people-the ones Uncle Tlaloc had chosen to make an example of- and shuddered. There are worse fates than being slowly flayed alive.
“Uncle-tzin, I swear to you that I hold nothing back. On my own grave I swear it.”
Uncle was looking at me in a way that indicated that might not just be a metaphor. Then he leaned back, rested one hand on Death and the other on the Earth Monster and smiled in a way that was totally unsettling.
“And I believe you, my boy. You swear you do not have this thing, whatever it is, and of course you would never lie to me.”
“Of course not, Uncle,” I croaked.
“So the matter is closed,” he said with the same terrifying geniality. “But, nephew…”
“Yes, Uncle?”
“If you do find this thing, you will tell your old uncle, will you not?”
“Of course, Uncle. Absolutely.” He gestured at me and I backed away, still on my knees.
I wandered the streets, examining the gathering clouds and play of light on the waters of the bay. There wasn’t any place I was going. There also wasn’t anybody I could talk to. People who seem to know anything about this mess keep ending up dead.
On a busy corner an old man with the matted hair of a traditional priest was holding out a limp, obviously drugged, rattlesnake. When he saw me, he practically shoved it in my face.
“For only one small gold coin,” he said in a voice that had been destroyed by years of exposure to sacred smokes, “I will let you pet the noble serpent who warns before striking, the brother to the Feathered Serpent who gave us our law and culture. It will bring you good luck.”
The snake’s face was close to mine. Its mouth opened, and its fangs slipped out of their sheaths. All the while, its tail and rattle hung limp, probably because of the drug.
“I don’t know, unwashed one,” I replied without slowing down. “Your friend looks like he may make an exception and rattle after he bites me.”
“Blasphemer!” The old man screamed as walked away. “The Gods will punish you!”
“I know, I know,” I said and turned away.
The problem was, that I didn’t know. At least about just what it was that everyone seemed to think I had. I’m an axe, a sweeper, not a sneak-thief. And what is it that I could have slipped under my cloak and smuggled out of the Death Master’s, and to my apartment or some secret location? What could be that important? And why would it be on the body of a dead huetlacoatl?
Or maybe it wasin the body…
The thought was too disgusting to pursue. Besides, the hairs standing on the back of my neck told me that I was being pursued. The old geezer with groggy rattlesnake was still glaring at me. And his weren’t the only eyes on me. People on the street looked away when I looked at them, but I could tell that they were aware of me. Every window and corner made me nervous.
I put my hand on the hilt of my sword. Somehow it did not make me feel secure.
Suddenly, I felt the need to flee. There were too many people. I couldn’t sort out who-if anybody-I should be looking out for. I walked faster, until I was just short of a run.
I glanced into some deserted alleys. Unfortunately, they were too deserted. Someone could be cornered, killed, left in a pile of garbage, and not be found for days, flayed by the rats and scavengers that feed off corpses.
Then someone grabbed my sword arm. Something else struck the back of my head. Everything went white hot, then dead black.
The sound of conch trumpets filled the air. It was the long, deep tone that announces the approach of a hurricane. Near the English Docks, the great statue of the Storm Goddess looked at me and licked her ragged, stone lips with a pink, fleshy tongue. The water withdrew, back toward the southern continent, leaving ships to sink into the muck on the seafloor. I ran toward higher ground.
The city was deserted. The only signs of life were cages containing parrots that had been reduced to skeletons, and the ants that were picking away at the last remaining bits of meat. Was I asleep when the city was evacuated? No one was in the streets. Nothing moved except for the debris that flew about in the winds.
The clouds boiled. There was a rumbling deep in the earth that echoed through my bones and across the sky. The wind grew stronger, making a noise like the mother of all disease spirits.
Then it rained. The things that pelted me and the empty streets were not raindrops, but eggs. When they hit the ground, they cracked open, leaking a steaming purple fluid and revealing the tiny bodies of creatures that looked almost human.
“Earthmonster, devour me!” I screamed.
“Be calm, Lucky.” It was Mother Jaguar. “Things will be all right. Look.” She held out a polished obsidian mirror.
I looked into it, and saw myself. My skin hung loosely around my face. Grabbing a handful, I tore it away. Underneath I had a huetlacoatl snout.
“Face your destiny, Tworabbit,” said Toltectecuhrli, who was suddenly holding the mirror. As I looked into the mirror I was plunged into darkness. Pungent smoke curled up and I coughed at the vile snake scent.
“He wakens,” came a voice from far, far away.
Then the world reeled, the hood was yanked from my head, and I was blinking in the light.
My first thought was that this wasn’t the doing of Three flower’s husband. Then where I was actually sank in.
The room was low, gloomy, and damp. The gas torches were turned too low for me to see the extent.
The furniture was uncomfortably low as well. Uncomfortable for humans, at least. There were three men standing before me and one more crouched down in the background. Correction: There was one moresomething crouched down behind them, but it wasn’t human. It was a huetlacoatl, the first intelligent one I had ever seen- alive, that is.
“We want the body,” one of the Speakers said abruptly.
“What?”
“The body of the slain one. We want the rest of it. Come. Do not waste the Great One’s time. Give it to us.” One of the other three had turned to the huetlacoatl and croaked and squeaked at it as if translating.
I couldn’t see the huetlacoatl well enough to make out its expression and that was probably just as well.
“You have the body,” I said.
This was translated and produced a roar from the huetlacoatl.
“All of it,” the Speaker cried. “We must have all of it.”
“But it wasn’t sacrificed. It was all there.”
“Lies!”the Speaker screamed. “You think you can lie to us because we do not torture like animals. But we will have the truth and we will have the treasures of the line, the rest of the Great One’s body.”
I thought fast. Ninedeer had said that all the parts of the body were there. They must mean something else, something that was on the body. An insignia of rank perhaps. That made sense in light of Uncle Tlaloc’s comment about something being taken from the body. Some priests referred to the sacred objects they wore as part of themselves. And there were stories that the huetlacoatls adorned themselves with rare and costly jewels-as well as
