I corrected him. ‘Someone tried to kill her. We don’t know who that was. Now suppose Cactus genuinely had no idea what was in those herbs? When he tried to get Slender Neck to take them, he may just have been trying to drum up business. What if the same person gave poisoned herbs to Gentle Heart, only she was more gullible, or not skilled enough to know them for what they were? In fact... That’s it!’ I looked around at all of them excitedly, forgetting for an instant that we were talking about the deaths of Handy’s wife and the two people in the house beside us. ‘Whoever it was gave the poison to Cactus. He obviously persuaded him to offer it to Slender Neck, but she wasn’t having any. So she was put out of the way and Cactus was told to palm the stuff off on Gentle Heart instead. And when he wanted to give you those herbs, Handy, I bet he really thought they’d help – because the sorcerer had suggested it to him!’
Lily said: ‘Then he’d have to know Handy and his family pretty well, wouldn’t he?’
The commoner gaped at us both while he absorbed what we were saying. ‘You’re saying both Gentle Heart and Cactus were used by someone else? But who? I don’t know any sorcerers!’
‘What about your brother in law?’ Lily suggested gently.
Handy made a rude noise through his nose. ‘Flower Gatherer? He’d never have the guts, or the brains!’
‘Whoever it was, you haven’t explained why he came back to kill these two now,’ Lion pointed out.
‘Maybe they weren’t useful any more.’ I considered the question. ‘He was afraid one of them would sooner or later figure out what had gone wrong with Star’s pregnancy, and didn’t want to risk keeping either of them live any longer than he had to.’ I looked at Handy. ‘I’m sorry, my friend, but the thing you’re going to have to accept is that Cactus and Gentle Heart were as much victims of this thing as your wife was. And there’s someone else out there, some associate of the otomi, who murdered all three of them.’
7
We walked from Gentle Heart’s house to the parish hall in Atlixco. It was not such a long distance that there was much to be gained by taking the canoe, which in any event was laden with the bodies of the midwife and Cactus. Lion intended to leave them to the authorities in the dead woman’s own parish. ‘They’ll need to record the deaths,’ he explained, ‘and it’s one less problem for us!’
As the sun set and a blue-grey twilight enveloped the mountains, we found ourselves in the centre of Handy’s home parish. The plaza outside was all but empty, the traders having packed up their their wares and reed mats and gone. Now, shadowed as it was, with the squat bulk of the parish’s pyramid looming above it, the empty space had an air of menace that made me think twice about crossing it to get to the parish hall, even in company. And when I caught sight of a lone figure apparently trying to conceal himself against the outer wall of the building, I was convinced my worst fears had been realised.
‘Look out!’ I hissed at the others. ‘It’s an ambush!’
To my amazement, Handy responded with a laugh. ‘No it isn’t, Yaotl. It’s only the Prick! Didn’t you tell me old Black Feathers was sending him out here as part of your escort?’
‘Him!’ Lily cried indignantly. ‘If we’ve got to deal with the otomi, I’d sooner do it alone than with him protecting me!’
Huitztic detached himself from the wall and walked towards us. I noticed he was limping. I wondered whether that meant lord Feathered in Black had ordered some of his followers – perhaps the hefty men who carried his litter – to vent his displeasure on his steward.
My brother looked at him critically. With the limp and the extra weight he carried about his midriff, the Prick did not make a very convincing warrior, despite the sword that swung from his right hand. Lion and the steward were probably of an age – if anything, my brother may have been slightly the elder – but the Guardian of the Waterfront had never let himself go and despised anyone who did. He glanced scornfully at the weapon the other man was holding and said: ‘Are you sure you can remember how to use that thing?’
Huitztic drew in his breath with a sharp hiss and I saw the sword in his hand twitch threateningly, but he thought better of whatever he had been about to do. Instead he tossed his head indignantly in the direction of the building behind him. ‘They won’t let me in!’
‘Who won’t?’ I asked, trying to conceal my amusement.
‘The morons in there! I told them I was the chief minister’s servant, but they kept going on about someone called Kite, and saying this was his parish, and he’d said... Well, you won’t believe it...’
‘Try us,’ I suggested.
He swallowed audibly. ‘He’d let the chief minister in if he came in person and asked nicely, but not some... some...’
‘Flunky?’ my brother suggested.
‘Not imaginative enough,’ I said. How about “Some overweight geriatric who thinks he used to be a warrior?”’
The steward stared at me. ‘How dare you!’ he spluttered. ‘Have you forgotten who I am?’
‘No, but by the look of you, you aren’t exactly in favour at the moment.’ I noticed he had acquired a couple of prominent bruises since our last meeting. ‘Probably that had some influence on them in there. Maybe if you went home, gave the bruises a chance to heal, lost a bit of weight...’
‘Besides,’ Lion added, ‘they’re not wrong. This is Kite’s parish, and if he’s the man I remember, he won’t have anyone
