Obsidian & Blood (29 page)
I took an ornate reed mat from one of the spare rooms, and laid it under the shadow of the pine tree. Then I sat in the darkness, and watched Metzli the moon climb into the sky. The air was hot, humid; the rainy season wasn't far away.
Behind me, the house was silent, a far cry from the joyous place I remembered, the place of riches and warmth I'd envied Neutemoc so much. Once, I would have felt glad of my brother's downfall, but that was when both our parents had still been alive. Now… I didn't know what to think. He had ruined his own marriage – leading, ultimately, to Huei's impending death, and the destruction of the haven they'd both created for my nephews and nieces – and that I found hardest to forgive.
The wards Mihmatini had traced shone brightly in the night. But, as the moon rose higher and higher and the dampness of the night worked its way into my bones, I became aware of a scratching noise behind the walls: like claws, scrabbling at the adobe.
I rose, and laid my hand flat on the wall of the nearest building. Under my palm was the deep, familiar pulse of magic; but it was erratic, rising and fading to the rhythm of those scratching claws. And each time it faded, it rose a little weaker than before.
Mihmatini had been right: whatever was on the other side of that wall was depleting our wards.
I withdrew my hand, and unsheathed one of my obsidian knives. I knelt in the dirt of the courtyard and opened my veins, saying a prayer to Quetzalcoatl:
"Yours is the knowledge of the priests,Yours is the knowledge of the stars wheeling in the skyYou find the precious jade, the precious feathers…"
A darkness deeper than night swept across the courtyard, extinguishing the moon and the stars in the sky. The buildings around me slowly receded into indistinct shadows, leaving only my pulsing blood, shining on the ground.
The walls, too, became shadows interlaced with the network of our wards. Through those, I could see the creatures. They were, without a doubt, the same shapeless things that had attacked us on the previous day. This time, though, there weren't three, but at least ten of them.
Eyeless, mindless, they swarmed around Neutemoc's house, scooping up the essence of our wards with their claws. They made a small, huffing noise as they did so: something that could have been breathing, were it not obvious that they had no lungs.
In my time as a priest, I had seen many things – Haunting Mothers returned from their graves, beasts of shadows tearing out hearts, gods smiling as we shed our blood – but nothing, nothing was quite so eerie as these creatures' mindless insistence. I had no doubt that, in time, they'd whittle down our wards to nothing.
What were those things?
I knelt again and cut open my veins once more, to draw another quincunx, this time for an invocation to Mixcoatl, God of the Hunt:
"You who come forth from Chicomoztoc, honoured one,You who come with the net of maguey ropesThe basket of woven reedsYou who come forth from Tziuactitlan, honoured one…"
Power blazed across the quincunx, wrapping itself around me, sinking into my bones. The usual dizziness was made worse by my spell of true sight. I barely managed to rise after completing the invocation.
I looked at the creatures again. They were still clawing at the walls, pressing against each other to feed on our wards. I couldn't help shuddering. Their mindlessness, their relentlessness didn't seem to belong in an ordered world.
From their centre issued a thread of white power, so faint it was almost transparent. The threads joined, high above the creatures, in some sort of complicated knot: a spell of control. After the knot…
I narrowed my gaze to see. Beyond the knot, the threads merged into one, and hurtled back towards the earth. I couldn't see where the spell ended. To do that, I'd need to go outside, to walk past those creatures. In principle, the spell of protection Mihmatini had cast on all of us the previous afternoon should keep me from their sight. In principle.
I guessed they would pay no attention to me: they hadn't done so when they'd attacked us, not unless we stood between them and Neutemoc. But there were guesses, and then there was truth. There were blustering boasts – and there was Quechomitl's body, lying on the ground, draining itself of blood through his wounds, drop after drop, going deeper into Mictlan with every passing moment.
I closed my eyes. Did I want to do this? For Neutemoc? For my brother, who could only fling the reproaches of the past into my face?
No. For Huei, who had let herself be dragged into this. Who had let someone manipulate her, not knowing the price. Someone would pay for this. There would be justice: the only thing I could give her.
I went to wake up Mihmatini.
She was not happy. "You want to do what?" she asked, when she'd finished rubbing at her eyes.
"Find the source," I said, pointing to the wall. "And you–"
"Yes," Mihmatini said, curtly. "I should keep watch." She puffed her cheeks, thoughtfully. "I'll renew Huitzilpochtli's wards on you, just in case."
I watched her trace a quick circle on the ground – Neutemoc was never going to forgive us for the mess in his courtyard – and start a hymn to Huitzil-pochtli.
"Coming forth in the garb of our ancestorsYou led them forth from Aztlan, the White PlaceYou led them forth from Colhuacan, the Place of DeceptionYou led them forth into battle…"
Radiance blazed across the courtyard, as strong as sunlight. It sank into my skin, tingling with warmth, hissing as it came into contact with Mictlan's knives at my belt. I waited for the feeling to subside; for the protection to be complete.
Mihmatini looked at me critically. "Hum," she said. "It's not really taken hold, has it? It's already skittering away."
Unlike Neutemoc, I wasn't a devotee of the Hummingbird; quite the reverse, in fact. Mictlantecuhtli and Huitzilpochtli were opposites: the dry, wizened God of Death and the youthful War God could hardly be compatible. "How long do I have?" I asked.
Mihmatini shrugged. "A couple of hours. I'd tell you to be careful, but I know when I'm just wasting my time. Do try to come back without leaking any blood."
I made a mock punching gesture; she sidestepped, gracefully, smiling. "You're getting better at this whole humour thing," she said.
I didn't trouble myself to answer that.
As I passed the gates with a lit torch in my hand, three of the creatures turned towards me: a quick, lithe movement that put me in mind of snakes or pikes. I held my breath, knowing with a cold spike in my belly that I was lost if they decided to attack me.
But the spell worked: they didn't pay attention to me. They merely turned to the wall, and started feeding again, huffing. It might have been, I realised with a chill, my brother's name they were breathing out, over and over.
I turned away from Neutemoc's house, and followed the rope of magic that issued from the creatures. It snaked, leisurely, through the wide streets and canals of Moyotlan: past the houses with the sweet smells of banquet food wafting out into the night, past the groups of warriors going into the Houses of Joy, laughing among themselves.
Here, alone in the darkness, I was in my element – not High Priest, not brother or son to anyone – but tracking a wrong in the fabric of the universe. For the first time in days, I felt at peace. A strange kind of peace, tinged with the awareness that it couldn't last, but it still soothed my heart.
The trail snaked south, towards the Itzapalapan causeway, the same direction we'd taken when hunting for the beast of shadows. I walked through the deserted streets, thinking on the case. Moonlight shimmered on the canals to my right and to my left; and the reed boats at anchor bobbed up and down, as if on the rhythm of some unseen breath.
Someone had tortured Eleuia; and someone was now trying to kill Neutemoc. It might be for the same reason, in which case they both had knowledge of a secret. But Neutemoc had sounded sincerely ignorant of anything useful. Or, it might be two different groups, trying to achieve different aims.
But still, what vital information could Eleuia have possessed? Despite everything Neutemoc had said to me, my instincts told me that it had to do with Eleuia's child. But why, if the child was indeed dead? Unless Neutemoc had been deceived. Unless, blinded by love, he had seen exactly what Eleuia wanted him to see.
I walked past the fort at the gates of Tenochtitlan. The warriors on duty, standing outside with their feather-shields and throwing spears, gave me a cursory glance, and dismissed me as harmless. The trail was still following its leisurely path along the Itzapalapan causeway. My heartbeat quickened. Could it be so easy to find who was behind the summoning of the creatures?
Alas, it was not to be. For, as the trail went over the third of the wooden bridges in the causeway, it plunged downwards; and faded into nothingness. Huitzilpochtli curse the summoner and all his ilk. Once again, they'd planned ahead, and their trail was well hidden. I'd endangered myself for nothing.
I fumed all the way back to Neutemoc's house, indiscriminately consigning to the depths of Mictlan the summoners, Huei, Neutemoc, and the goddess Chalchiutlicue – though I still couldn't see Her part in this. She'd had nothing to gain from Eleuia's death. But still… I couldn't quite shake the impression that I was missing something, and that the key was Neutemoc.
At the gates of the house, the creatures were still crowding and the wards were much weaker than they had been an hour before. Mihmatini was on her knees in the courtyard, going through the last stages of renewing them again. She nodded grimly at me.
It was a blessing the creatures still couldn't reach Neutemoc. But Mihmatini was right. We couldn't protect him and his household for ever.
I woke up early: a few moments before dawn, at a time when the first of the kitchen slaves were pounding maize into flour. The rhythmic thump of the pestle against the mortar filled the courtyard as the sky lightened – bringing, as always, memories of a childhood I couldn't come back to.
In silence, I made my offerings of blood to Lord Death. The courtyard was still deserted. The slave who guarded the gates had obviously not been replaced since Quechomitl's death. I checked Mihmatini's wards, cursorily. The creatures were still scratching at the wall; but the wards had held. I kept seeing Teomitl's face, that moment before he turned and walked away from Neutemoc and me.
Who are you? Tizoc-tzin's cousin?
I'm his brother.
This wasn't going to be a good day.
I managed to get some spiced maize gruel from the kitchen, and ate it sitting under the pine tree, as the light flooding the courtyard turned from pink to white.
"I thought I might find you here," Ceyaxochitl said.
Startled, I looked up. She was standing over me, leaning on her cane.
My first reaction wasn't exactly joy. "What in the Fifth World–?" I asked, pulling myself to my feet.
"You haven't been at your temple lately."
"You haven't been at your temple lately."
"No," I said, curtly. The Southern Hummingbird blind me if I had to explain myself to her. "I've been busy."
"I've heard," Ceyaxochitl said. She leaned on her cane, looking for all the world like an old woman enjoying the morning sun. I wasn't fooled. "You have some interesting things outside, as well."
"You saw them?" What a foolish question. She was Guardian of the Sacred Precinct, agent of the Duality in the Fifth World. Of course she'd see them.
"Yes," Ceyaxochitl said. "Persistent little things. A marvel of creation."
"Creation?" I asked.
"Someone made them," she said, as if it was obvious.
"A sorcerer?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I think not. Though they might well have summoned them."
"A god, then?" I asked. Chalchiutlicue had created the ahuizotls, after all, to keep watch over Her waters.
"Maybe," Ceyaxochitl said.
The last thing I needed was gods thinking They could play games with our lives. Xochiquetzal and Her kind weren't much interested in the Fifth World, as a rule. But I guessed pliant toys were always irresistible.
"I take it that means you have no idea how to kill them?" I asked, unable to restrain my sarcasm.
Ceyaxochitl shrugged. "Nothing is invulnerable. I can look into it, if you wish. Though I didn't come here for that."
"No," I said. "What for, then?"
"My warriors trawled through Lake Texcoco. We've found some of Priestess Eleuia's things."
"What things? Clothes?" Clothes would be carried by the current, and hard to find again. Heavy things, on the other hand, would sink to the bottom.
"A purse," Ceyaxochitl said. "And an obsidian knife in its sheath. Teomitl confirms that it belonged to her."
"Teomitl," I said, not without bitterness. "What were you thinking, sending him to me?"
She looked at me – for once, genuinely surprised. "It seemed obvious, Acatl. The boy needs guidance, badly. Ever since the death of his mother he's grown up like a wildflower."
"And I was to train him?" I asked.
"I don't see what there is to be angry about." Her voice was infuriatingly reasonable.
"You don't?" I asked. "I almost got him killed by a beast of shadows, and you ask what the problem is?"
"He's a grown man," Ceyaxochitl said. "He can take his own risks."
"No," I said. "A grown man can, but the brother of the Emperor?" If he had died under my responsibility, the Imperial Guards would have arrested me immediately.
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