I found it hard to follow what he was saying: I could barely hold in my head this picture of bizarre, alien carnage in a place beyond the edge of the World. But there was one word I seized upon.
“Mayans,” you said. This girl is Mayan.’ I beckoned to Little Hen. ‘Is she what you have been waiting for? Does she have the message you were trying to buy from Hare?’
He leaned a little towards the girl, scrutinizing her through narrowed eyes. ‘Maybe,’ he said slowly. ‘Tell me how she came to be with you.’
I began to relate the story. It took a long time, and Kindly and Nimble did not help; they merely glowered at the King in resentful silence. By the time I had finished, however. Hungry Child knew most of what had happened to us all since the day we had come to Tetzcoco.
At the end I looked at him imploringly. ‘My lord, do you understand now why whatever Little Hen has to say is so important to us?’
‘I heard as much from Mother of Light,’ he replied, before adding indifferendy: ‘I hope you haven’t put too much faith in this little girl, however. What she knows may not be of much help to your mistress.’
I stared at him. ‘But Mother of Light said…’
He held up a hand to silence me. ‘I know. She said it was unlikely to be anything that Maize Ear or Black Flower should be afraid of. And I think she was right, but just remember that my sons may not see it that way.’ He smiled at the girl, eliciting a grin in response. ‘But let’s hear what she has to say before we draw any conclusions about it, shall we?’
Then he began to speak to her.
As I listened to him, to her answering squeal of delight, to her giggle, quickly stifled, and then to the words that came tumbling out of her mouth in response to his, I felt my jaw drop in amazement. Looking about me, I saw my reaction mirrored in my companions’ faces. Only Mother of Light seemed unsurprised, watching the old King, her lover, with a look of something like pride.
The conversation went on for a long time. Of course, I understood none of the strange, guttural words, but I could watch and interpret what Hungry Child’s face and hands were doing. He spoke slowly and haltingly, frowning in concentration as if he were struggling to recall the phrase he wanted from his memory. He leaned eagerly towards the girl and his hands clenched and unclenched excitedly.
Little Hen seemed to be warming to her topic, whatever it was. She made gestures to accompany her words. There were sharp, stabbing motions, accompanied by joyous cries, that I suspected might be connected with the story of Hare’s death. Then a hand waved in Nimble’s direction, perhaps to illustrate the tale of her rescue from the marketplace. Finally there were some gestures that I could not interpret. She repeated the curious actions we had observed at the house at Huexoda, at one point tugging at her hair and later pulling on her eyelids to make that by-now-familiar round shape. Then she plucked at her chin, and finally she began rubbing her cheeks and temples, as though scrubbing them vigorously to rid them of some deeply ingrained stain.
Eventually the pace of the conversation began to slacken. There were a few short exchanges of words — final questions from Hungry Child and their answers, I guessed-— and both of them fell silent.
There was a long pause. Hungry Child rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Eventually Nimble asked: ‘My lord, how did you learn her language?’ Curiosity had overcome his resentment at the King’s high-handedness.
‘I told you there were things I wanted to do that would be difficult if I were still King. I wanted to know more about the things we were speaking about — the omens, the disaster, whatever it is, that is threatening to overwhelm us all. Not in the hope of averting it — that’s impossible. It will come — the portents are clear about that — but perhaps some of us may live through it, and there may be ways to prepare.
‘I knew it was to come from the East, from the shores of the Divine Sea, but that was all. So I set out to learn everything I could about the country around there, both the land and the people — their customs, their politics, even their languages. Before I staged my death I took the precaution of having my dwarfs bring every screenfold book and piece of paper in the royal library concerning that part of the World to this palace, in secret. Of course, I knew they would be sacrificed at my funeral, and so the secret is safe.’
Kindly said: ‘So you had yourself taught this girl’s language?’
‘Among others. Whenever I heard of an envoy or merchant from the East, I would have him questioned. I was able to pick up at least a smattering of some of the dialects from these people. Having a reputation as a man with a thirst for learning meant I could do this without arousing suspicion. What I intended to do, you see, was to go there — that’s why I couldn’t be King any more. I meant to spend the rest of my years tracking this thing down, and that would have left Tetzcoco leaderless.’
‘Why the secrecy?’ I asked. ‘Why not simply abdicate, or appoint a regent?’
‘So that my successor would have the authority to defend his kingdom. The people — in this city and in others-— have to know that he rules
