Aztlan: The Courts of Heaven (9 page)

It was already turning out to be a long list, even longer than I would have guessed, when I got a buzz from Aunt Xoco.

She was my father’s sister and my only close relative in the Lands of the Living. Not always the easiest person to get along with, mind you. But whatever she did, she did out of love.

“Aunt Xoco,” I said, “how are the gods treating you?”

“Not as poorly as they treat some, but not as well as they treat others. By the way, Maxtla, I spoke to my friend—the one with the pretty daughter.”

I had been hearing about my aunt’s friend’s daughter for some time. “Really,” I said.

“She showed me a picture, Maxtla. Her daughter is prettier than ever.”

“That’s nice, Aunt Xoco.”

“I know you don’t like women who work in the Merchant City. Especially the kind that makes piles of beans.”

I had said that, hadn’t I?

“But if you ever change your mind, you could do worse than this girl. Much worse.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Aunt Xoco.”

Calli worked in the Merchant City. She made piles of beans. Why didn’t I dismiss her as I had dismissed my aunt’s friend’s daughter?

All my life, I had looked down on people who worshipped the payday. Even as a ballplayer, when I had plenty of paydays myself, that wasn’t why I played. It was because I loved the game.

Calli was a bean-chaser just like everyone else in the Merchant City. That was the truth. But I was willing to overlook that aspect of her. I didn’t know why, but I was.

Aunt Xoco would have been happy to hear it. But I wasn’t ready to tell her about Calli. Hands of the Gods, there wasn’t anything to tell.

At least not yet.

“Keep in mind also,” said my aunt, “that as a practical consideration, it’s no more trouble to cook for two than for one. Or have you decided you don’t
like
my food?”

“I love your food. You know that.”

“Then what’s keeping you? And don’t say work. Your father was an Investigator too but he found time to share a meal now and then.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

A pause. “Are you all right, Maxtla? You sound tired.”

Who knew me better than my aunt? “I’m fine.”

“You sound like you’ve had too much
octli
.”

“They frown on that sort of thing at work, Aunt Xoco. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you soon.”

“That would be nice,” she said.

I hadn’t even put my radio back in my pouch when I got another call. This one was from Pactonal.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“I have a lead,” I said, “but it’s a slim one.” Then I asked him what he knew about Coyotl’s love affairs.

I could have mentioned that one of them involved a noblewoman, but I didn’t. I didn’t want that fact out in public yet, and I had no idea if Pactonal could keep a secret.

“He had a few,” he said. “That is, a few that I knew about.” He described the women involved in some detail, but none was even remotely a member of the nobility. “Of course, that doesn’t include the one-night stands. You remember how those went.”

“Yes.” Every ball player had taken advantage of such opportunities at one time or another.

“Does that help?” Pactonal asked.

“Maybe a little,” I said.

“Sorry. If you told me a little more about what you’re looking for . . ."

“You could be more helpful. I get it. Unfortunately, I can’t share much right now.”

“Too bad,” said Pactonal. “Hey, what about Coyotl’s slave?”

“He had a slave?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Sure. Her name was Malinche. She was from the Merchant City.”

“Really. Any idea where?”

“She works in an
octli
house. One of the places on Mayahuel Street, I think.”

“You know this for a fact?”

He laughed. “No. But if I were looking for her, that’s where I’d go. Anyway, wish us luck against Malinalco tonight.”

“Gods favor you,” I said. But I figured it would take more than the gods’ favor for the Eagles to beat Malinalco.

Despite my misgivings, the Eagles’ match with Malinalco was a lot closer than it should have been—largely because Itzpapa and Pactonal played like spirits of vengeance, taking full advantage of all the scoring opportunities afforded them in Coyotl’s absence. It wasn’t often they got a chance to remind the fans of how good they had been at one time, and how good they could be even now when Ichtaca gave them half a chance.

Itzpapa notched the first goal of the game on a header. Then, just a few moments later, Pactonal stole the ball in the corridor and kicked it through the hoop. The score stayed that way, 2-0 in favor of Aztlan, until well into the second half. Despite the bad taste in their mouths over Coyotl’s absence, the fans had something to cheer about.

But Malinalco was too young and talented to be held down forever. Just before time ran out, they took advantage of the Eagles’ fatigue and put in two goals of their own. Then they scored again in the overtime, and the Eagles, their tongues hanging out, had no answer. In the end the fans left the Arena angry and disappointed—again—hoping that whatever had kept Coyotl from playing wouldn’t remain a problem in the next match.

I watched the whole thing on the Mirror. When it was over, I took my list of
octli
houses, went down to the rail station, and caught a carriage for the Merchant City. Painkiller or no painkiller, I had a job to do.

Some of the busiest
octli
houses in the Merchant City were clustered together on the thoroughfare Pactonal had mentioned—Mayahuel Street. Between them, they created a flash and buzz you didn’t see anywhere else in Aztlan.

Police officers didn’t visit the area very often, even though some of the patrons were walking out publicly intoxicated. It was the Merchant City, you know? As long as the citizens who lived there didn’t complain, we weren’t going to expend any resources to clean the place up.

I wore a long-sleeved shirt to hide my Investigator’s bracelet. After all, I wanted people to talk. They weren’t going to do that if they thought I was there to arrest somebody.

At the first place I walked into, I ordered a drink, pretended to sip at it, and made conversation with the waitresses. I asked them if Azti Malinche worked there. They said they hadn’t heard of anybody by that name.

They might have been lying—I didn’t know. Either way, I moved on.

The gods didn’t smile on me in the second place I visited, either. Or the third. I wondered if the patrons had noticed how stiffly I was moving because of my wound and clammed up because of it.

Then again, I wasn’t the only one moving stiffly in those places. I decided to try one more before I left. It was called The Thirsty Monkey.

This time, I sat at the bar rather than at a table. The
octli
keeper was a thickset man with a square face and dark bags beneath his eyes.

I asked him if he knew someone named Malinche. He gave me my drink, chuckled to himself, and said, “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because you’re a police officer.”

I could have gone on trying to hide it, but he still wouldn’t have believed me. So I went in the other direction.

“That’s true,” I said. “But I’m not here to arrest her. Or, for that matter, the two guys in the back who can’t walk straight. Or the waitress who’s been shortchanging her customers because they’re too drunk to count their beans.”

All justification for me to close the place down, and the keeper knew it. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “So why
are
you here?”

“To ask Malinche a couple of questions. That’s all.”

He considered the possibility that I was telling the truth. “Come tomorrow night, same time.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I can’t wait that long. Make it tonight.”

The
octli
keeper glared at me, then nodded. “Stay there. I’ll make a call.”

When it comes to female slaves, there are different kinds.

The kind, for instance, who manages a nobleman’s schedule for him, making sure he’s adequately prepared for all his appointments. There’s the kind who makes dinner, cleans, and looks after the children. And there’s the kind who looks good in a tight-fitting dress at noble feasts.

Atzi Malinche didn’t fit into any of those categories. At least, not from the look of her. She was an athlete—tall, toned, and well-proportioned. Nice face, too. She could have been a model for a women’s gym if not for the white thread of scar that ran from the corner of her mouth to her jawline.

I knew who she was by the way the
octli
keeper looked at her as she walked in. But she wasn’t alone. There were three men with her, the kind you only saw in the Merchant City. Their eyes were like dark birds, flitting this way and that.

“You wanted me?” she asked as she slid onto the seat next to me at the bar, her companions hanging back from us.

Her voice was soft and melodic, but its cadence was an aggressive one. No surprise, given the place where she had grown up.

“That depends. Are you Atzi Malinche?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m an Investigator,” I said, “on Imperial business.”

She cast a grin at one of the men who had accompanied her. “You think that matters down here? You have a name, Investigator?”

“Colhua. Maxtla Colhua. I need to talk to you about Coyotl.”

That piqued her interest. “What about him?”

I didn’t want to say, but I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere if I didn’t. Besides, Malinche had been his slave. She would find out what happened to him sooner or later.

“He’s been kidnapped.”

She laughed a hard laugh. “Right.”

“I’m not kidding,” I said. “It was just before his game the other night. That’s why he didn’t play.”

“That’s not what they said on the Mirror.”

“You believe everything you see on the Mirror?”

Malinche dismissed the idea with a flip of her hand. “You’re crazy. You know how strong he is?”

“Not strong enough to beat off two guys with knives. Or maybe three or four, who knows?”

“So for all you know, he could be dead.”

“The odds of that,” I said, “get better the longer we sit here.”

That seemed to loosen her up a little. “What do you want from
me
?” she asked.

“Information. Specifically, anything you might know about the noblewoman Coyotl was seeing.”

“Who told you he was seeing a noblewoman?”

Malinche was loyal. Good for her. But in this case, it wasn’t doing Coyotl any good.

“I’m not trying to hurt him,” I said. “I’m trying to
find
him.”

She eyed me for a minute. Then she said, “I don’t know her name. He didn’t talk about her much—at least not when he was with me.”

“Did he say
anything
?” I asked. “Where she lived, where she dined, what kind of clothes she wore?”

Malinche frowned. “He mentioned a dog one time. A ghost dog. Her old one had died, I think, so she went out and bought a new one.”

Ghost dogs were rare, and very expensive. Only nobles could afford them.

“Did she say where she got it?”

“I don’t know her
name,
” she snapped. “You think I know where she bought her
dog
?”

One of the guys who had entered with her came over to us. He didn’t look happy with me.

“This lizard turd bothering you?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on me.

“Watch your mouth,” I told him.

An Investigator didn’t allow citizens to speak to him that way. Not even when he was outnumbered and had a hole in his back.

“It’s all right,” said Malinche, putting a hand on her friend’s chest. “I’m fine.”

The guy glowered at me a moment longer. Then he backed off.

“How about
when
she got it?” I asked Malinche, resuming my line of questioning. “Do you remember
that
?”

She thought for a moment. “It was just before the start of the season. I know because Coyotl sent me out to get dog food that night, and I missed the High Priest’s blessing.”

At the beginning of every season, the High Priest blessed the Sun League and all its players. He could have done a better job with Coyotl.

“Before the start of the season,” I echoed.

“That’s right.”

So I knew that Coyotl’s lover owned a ghost dog, and I knew when it had been purchased. It was a start.