Handy watched his sister-in-law dumbly.
I hesitated over what I was going to say next. However, I still had my message to deliver. For all the danger it implied for himself and his household, I wondered whether it might not do the grieving husband good to have something else to think about.
Diffidently, I began to describe lord Feathered in Black’s visit. At first Handy seemed not to be listening, but eventually he turned his eyes towards me, and by the time I asked him whether he knew anything about the captain and his movements, he was frowning.
‘I’ve not seen anything. I’ve heard the rumours, of course, but then so has everyone else. But as for the otomi – to be honest with you, Yaotl, I’m not sure I’m the right man to ask. I carry messages and run errands for old Black Feathers, but he doesn’t take me into his confidence, and I haven’t seen the captain since that business in Tlacopan.’ His frown deepened. ‘Do you really think he’d be after me, on account of that?’
‘According to the chief minister, yes. He ended up looking a fool on account of what I did, and you were with me, and to his mind that’s enough.’
He curled his lip. ‘Doesn’t seem fair,’ he said indifferently, as though his present troubles made the prospect of meeting an inhumanly strong, sword-wielding psychopath look insignificant. ‘I mean, I can imagine him wanting to skin you like a rabbit.’
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. ‘I never knew you had that much imagination!’
His frown cleared a little as he thought of something else. ‘I’ll tell you who you do need to watch out for, though: lord Feathered in Black’s steward.’
I snorted derisively. ‘I’m not going to worry about him!’
‘He’s a three-captive warrior, Yaotl.’
‘So what? He took his last prisoner ten years ago, at least. Now he’s a sad, fat old man full of wind. What’s more he’s so stupid he can’t pick his nose unless he’s looking in a mirror. I can deal with him, don’t worry about that.’
‘Well, you may have to. That’s all I can say.’
‘Thanks,’ I said neutrally. I felt that I had come here in vain. Handy did not seem to care about the captain, and had nothing to tell me about him. And for this I had burdened myself with the horrible task of helping to bury a dead mother. I wondered what my chances were of getting back to Lily’s house before the next morning.
‘That’s all right,’ Handy was saying. ‘I really appreciate what you’re doing for us. I mean, I know it isn’t a nice thing to have to do.’
‘I had to do worse things as a priest,’ I said lightly. ‘Compared to sticking maguey spines through my tongue or wading through ice-cold lake water, I’m sure this is nothing! But are you certain you need me? Can’t any of your sons help, or your brothers?’
‘My sons are too young, apart from Cuicuilticuauhtli.’ The young man’s name meant ‘Spotted Eagle’. ‘My brother-in-law – Goose’s husband, Xochipepe – will help. I’ve no brothers living, though, and by the time my father-in-law’s finished with them I don’t suppose any of my wife’s relatives will talk to me. And it’s a difficult thing to ask of a friend or a neighbour.’ I wondered what that made me, in Handy’s estimation, but before I could voice the question aloud, we were interrupted.
‘What about me?’
Both Handy and I started at the sound of a man’s voice. A moment later I heard Goose crying shrilly: ‘You can’t come in here! Don’t you know what’s happened?’
‘Oh, yes, I know,’ said the stranger grimly.
I turned around to see a tall, heavily built man whose weathered skin and grey-streaked hair were those of someone of about the same age as Handy and I. He was formally dressed: barefoot, because he was a commoner and so forbidden sandals in the city, but his carmine coloured cape with its tasselled orange border marked him as a Master of Youths, a soldier who had taken three war captives. His entry into the courtyard was curious: he moved with determination but also with a limp, and he had Goose scampering anxiously behind him, her hands waving and all but clutching at the trailing hem of his cloak. He seemed unsure of himself. His head kept jerking from side to side as if looking for signs of an ambush.
Handy was on his feet. ‘What do you want, Tlapallalo?’
The newcomer took a step backwards, almost colliding with Goose. ‘I came to help… and to say goodbye.’
‘Goodbye it is,’ Handy said coldly.
The man whose name meant ‘Red Macaw’ looked at the ground for a moment. When he looked up again I saw that his eyes were raw, and he was biting his lower lip. He took a deep breath. ‘Look – I know we’ve had our differences. But I want to help now. You’re short-handed for the burial.’
‘No I’m not,’ Handy snapped. ‘And why should I give a shit for what you want? Goodbye, I said. Now get out of my house!’
He took a step towards Red Macaw. For a moment I thought the other man was going to retreat, but he stood his ground. They ended up with their noses almost touching, baring their teeth at each other. I got to my feet, wary of the fight that seemed to be about to break out, while Goose scurried around the two men, pleading with them both to calm down for her sister’s sake.
‘Why do you think I came here?’ asked Red Macaw, without taking his eyes off his
