I swallowed, realizing that I was about to stroll straight into an ambush. ‘Wouldn’t it be better the other way around?’
‘No. Get going.’
A hand reached towards me out of the night and roughly propelled me forward.
Maize Ear’s henchmen were no friends of mine. All the same, when Hunter left to retrace his steps until he came to the path he had mentioned, I found myself wishing he were still with me. It was a dark night to be walking by myself into something entirely unknown.
I took a few nervous steps towards the house. Then I froze, struck suddenly by a chill deeper than that of the night air around me.
I had heard the whistling sound again, but this time it was close by.
'Who’s there?’ I whispered in a voice hoarse with terror.
There was no answer.
I cleared my throat and tried again, a little louder. ‘Who’s there?’
’Oh, so you can hear me. I was beginning to think you’d gone bloody deaf.’
I should have felt relieved or even joyful to hear that voice, hut all I felt was shock, and it was as much as I could do to prevent my legs from buckling at the knees. The speaker was Lilly’s father, Kindly.
‘What are you doing here?’ I whispered.
‘Never mind! Just get over here, quick. Where’s that other fellow? Do we want him or not?’
I felt my way over towards the old man, until a hand caught my arm and dragged me off the road. ‘No, we don’t! He’s behind me somewhere.’
‘Thought not.’ I could smell the old man’s sour breath. At that moment it seemed as fragrant as a dahlia. ‘Squat down here. I’ll get Nimble.’
‘He’s here?’ I gasped.
‘Oh, yes. And not just him. Oh, do we have a surprise for you! Nimble…’
That was all he managed before we heard the scream.
What was that?’ I asked inanely.
‘More to the point,’ snarled Kindly, ‘where did it come from? My ears aren’t so good.’
‘The road,’ Nimble declared out of the gloom. ‘Back there, along the way you came, Father.’
Another cry tore through the air. This was more terrifying than the first: a long wail, as of someone or something in great pain, ending in a series of diminishing sobs.
‘Hunter,’ I whispered. ‘What’s going on?’
Where’d your pal go?’ Kindly asked. ‘Sounds like he may have got himself into trouble!’
‘He was heading back towards where he’d seen a path branching off the road,’ I explained. ‘I thought someone was following us, ever since we left Tetzcoco. He must have run into them.’
‘Do you think we should go and find out what happened?’ my son asked.
‘Balls, we should!’ the old man snapped. ‘We’re safer here.’
‘Can’t stay here all night.’
I sighed. ‘Nimble’s right,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I’d better take a look.’ I got up and forced my unwilling feet to step out onto the road.
‘Wait!’ the youth cried. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No.’ If Hunter was dead, I thought, I must get back to the palace and explain to Rattlesnake what had happened before his body was found. If I did not. Maize Ear’s spy would assume that I was responsible for his deputy’s death and Lily would bear the brunt of his rage. If Hunter was not dead, I did not want Nimble walking straight into his arms. ‘You stay there.’
‘But…’
‘Stay there, I said!’
‘Better do as he says, lad,’ Kindly muttered.
I took Nimble’s silence for assent and felt relieved. This was no time for an argument. I assumed my son would obey his father’s direct command, even though we had known nothing of one another for years; he must, I thought, be enough of an Aztec for that.
I walked towards the source of the screams.
I did not have far to go. Just a few paces beyond the point where Hunter and I had parted, I began to hear somebody moaning softly. It was a fearful sound, the kind made by somebody in great pain without the strength left to cry out.
I paused, unable to decide what to do next. The noises Were coming from somewhere just up ahead, but what was making them? It might be Hunter or some other person who had had the misfortune to encounter Hunter’s sword, but then again, it might not. Unspeakable things were known to haunt the night, any one of which it would be death to encounter: the dead walking in their wrappings, for one, or the thing we called the Night Axe, a headless, limbless torso that rolled over the ground and groaned through its open chest cavity. If Hunter had met one of these monsters, neither his weapons nor his warrior’s courage would have been of any use. On the other hand, I thought ruefully, having only my bare hands did not make me any better off than he would have been.
‘Hunter?’ I croaked through a mouth that had suddenly gone quite dry. I tried swirling my tongue around to stir up some spit, but my second attempt at calling out was as feeble as the first. No answer came back. The moaning had ceased.
I started moving forward again, one footstep at a time.
My bare foot landed in a puddle. As I drew it hastily back, I remembered that it had not rained lately. And the puddle was warm, and the air above it carried the unmistakable odour of fresh blood.
An unidentifiable shape lay on the road immediately in front of me. Crouching, I reached out and touched the body. It was not moving, not even breathing, but it was still warm under the thin, rough layer of cloth that covered it.
I got my hand under the cloak and slid it over the skin, feeling for the muscle and bone underneath. Although the skin was wet, covered with a slick of blood, it took me only a few moments to satisfy myself that this was not Hunter. I could feel this man’s ribs, and he was plainly no muscular warrior.
‘Shit,’ I muttered. I looked up. ‘Hunter!’ I called again, managing to raise
