Young Jaguar, The (9 page)

A shiver cascaded down his spine as he crouched
behind the gleaming mass of gold, sucking the blood off his split upper lip.
Well, at least this time she would not be lying. He had broken into the
Palace’s grounds, and he had tried to find her.

Chapter 9

Sakuna rocked back and forth, crouching upon the
comfortable mats of her sleeping quarters. She felt she had been there for
days, maybe moons, huddled in the relative safety of her inner rooms, waiting
for
him
to return.

He should have been back by now. He should have come
to comfort her. She had to talk to him, to tell him what had transpired, to
warn him, to make sure he was safe and unharmed, to feel his protective arms around
her. She needed him so much, and he was not coming.

She glanced up at the night sky reflecting outside
the high opening in the wall. The moon shone bright and indifferent. It hadn’t
moved since she’d consulted it last. It was not even midnight. She’d felt it
had to be near dawn.

Why does it take him so long to come home?

Nopalli had said they were receiving delegations all
day long. But couldn’t they halt this activity for the duration of the night?
The Tepanec warriors were so fond of their precious night’s sleep. Tecpatl
always preached on that subject, amused with her tendency to stay awake until
after midnight. So where, in the name of the Great Spirits, was he wandering
now, when she needed him most? Those delegations of people streaming into Azcapotzalco
from all over the Great Lake, eager to pay their respects to its new Emperor,
didn’t they need to rest, too?

The thought about the delegation brought back her
conversation with Nopalli. Then came the rest of that evening. A new outburst
of tears threatened to take her. She fought it off, afraid to lose control once
again, afraid of the violent trembling that would follow.

Stop thinking about that,
she ordered
herself, clenching her teeth
. Let him come home first. Then all will be
well. He would know what to do.

Would he? Would he do what his Uncle wanted? Not
likely. If he was not sure of his actions, of his loyalty to the new Emperor,
they wouldn’t have tried to reach him through her. He must have been proven
difficult for that awful old man to resort to such methods, trying to act
through her, the despised barbarian.

She brought her palm to her mouth, clasping it hard,
trying to stop her terror from rising again.
Oh gods, that man was so
dreadful, so ghastly, so appalling.
He wanted to frighten her, but he also
wanted to take her, to
sample
her.

The trembling began anew, a violent shaking. She
clenched her fists hard, but it would not stop. All she could do was strangle
her sobbing with her palms and wish Tecpatl would come soon!

Think of something else, something useful that
would have nothing to do with this evening
, she ordered herself. But what?

Since that morning, a few dawns ago, when she went
up the roof to greet the Sun on the longest day of its journey, she had had no
peace. First, the priest coming and ruining her joy at Tecpatl’s return by
bringing the news of Atolli’s disgrace. Then, the Emperor’s sudden death. And now,
this!

Her world was once again coming down around her,
tumbling. It had happened before, when she was a young woman and her village
had been sacked and destroyed. But then, she had met Tecpatl and, while her
world, indeed, had come to an end, she had managed to escape. He had saved her.

Yet, would he manage to save her this time? Would he
manage to save them both?

And the children!

She caught her breath. Atolli was being sucked into
this swamp too, although, he was safe for now. Tecpatl would not let him sink.
He would not let the Emperor’s unsatisfied brother take Atolli into his
service. So this one worry could be put to rest.

But then, if Tecpatl himself did not manage to
escape this trap, they would all go down – Atolli, Flower, Tecuani, all of
them!

She could taste the blood seeping from her lower
lip, where her teeth sank into it, now more angry than frightened. Well, it
would not happen. It would not happen if she could help it. If there was
anything she could do, besides pouring her heart out to Tecpatl, she would do
it!

Oh, but she was always so far from the Palace’s
gossip, from politics, from all this hectic activity Azcapotzalco’s nobles
loved so much. Unlike Nopalli. She could try to make use of the silly young
woman. It was easy to make her talk.

Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she’d make a point
of visiting her again, under the pretense of caring for her sick child. It
would be interesting to hear what the young lover-of-gossip had to say about
the late Emperor’s sons and their suitability to rule the Empire.

She shivered.
To visit that house once again?

Well, the old horror of Nopalli’s Revered Father,
Tecpatl’s Great Uncle, did not live there. He happened to visit there this
evening, but he most definitely wouldn’t be around at high noon. He should be
busy at the Palace, planning and scheming, trying to change the emperors.

But first of all, this very moment, she was going to
talk to Atolli. They all claimed he was too young to understand, but she was
going to disregard this particular Tepanec custom. He was old enough to go out
and risk his life fighting. So he might be old enough to participate in the
deliberations that had a direct impact on his whole future. In her lands people
were regarded old enough for such discussion at fifteen.

Pleased with her steady steps, she headed for the
bowl upon a reed-woven podium. Splashing fresh water onto her face and drying
it with a cotton cloth made her feel better.

She picked up her obsidian mirror. No, she could not
go out looking like that, with her cheeks puffy and her eyes red. She could not
let her servants or her children, see her so
weakened
.

She searched through her chests. Where was that
yellow cream she had once been persuaded to buy at the market? Decent women
were not to use cosmetics, yet all noblewomen improved their appearance
whenever they felt like it. They kept the waxy yellowish substance, along with
perfumes and rosewater, and some indigo to make their hair shine.

Her eyes could not be helped now, but her cheeks
would look better yellow than glaringly red. She didn’t understand how yellow
was to make a woman look better when first arriving at Azcapotzalco, but now
she’d become used to it. It was a fashionable face color, and the touch of the
yellowish cream upon her cheeks was soothingly cool.

Paces light and determined, she went out of her
quarters, making her way through the main hall and across the patio.

Flower’s room was quiet and peacefully dark, but torchlight
flickered in her youngest child’s quarters. The little rascal! He could never
be made go to sleep at a reasonable time of the night.

She opened the door quietly and stopped in her
tracks, startled. Mecatl sprawled in front of Tecuani, both boys sleepy but trying
to proceed with their bean game.

They jumped, staring at her guiltily.

“Greetings, Mistress of the House,” said Mecatl,
first to recover. He showed all of his large teeth in the exaggeratedly
innocent smile. 

“Mecatl, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, we were just playing. Umm, didn’t notice it was
so late. I’ll be off now.” He sprang to his feet and was about to dash for the
opening.

Amused, she blocked his way.

“Come on, little rascal, what is going on?” She still
remembered him as a cute little boy, still could not think of him as a grown up
youth, almost a warrior, although he now towered above her, a whole head taller
than her.

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

He was so anxious to leave, she burst out laughing.

“Where is Atolli? Has he fallen asleep, and you went
out looking for company?” She glanced at Tecuani. “And you, you should be
asleep for half a night by now. What will you do in
calmecac
next year?”

“Mecatl did just fine.” Her youngest son’s grin was
as playful, as mischievous as usual, but some shadows hid in the depths of his
eyes, too.

“Mecatl, there is no need to go home when it’s so
late,” she said, unbalanced by their strange uneasiness. “Go to Atolli’s room
and sleep with him. There are enough mats over there, but I’ll get the servants
to bring more.”

Mecatl was growing unsettled with her every word, his
knuckles whitening as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, growing worried. “What
happened?”

A thought flashed and she turned around and rushed
for Atolli’s old room. It was still his, although, of course, he had lived in
his
calmecac
for many summers by now, coming to sleep at home only for
holidays and short breaks.

She swung the door open, knowing already he wouldn’t
be there.

“Where is he?” she demanded, whirling to glare at
the boys, who had followed.

Mecatl shrank away from her. “He… he went out for a
while, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Where?” She noticed she was almost shouting and
lowered her voice. “Where did he go?”

Mecatl dropped his eyes, his bulky figure sagging,
cumbersome in the dimly lit corridor. Indecisiveness did not suit him.

Tecuani moved closer. “Mother, don’t worry. He’ll be
back soon.”

“Listen,” she said, fighting a wave of rising panic.
“Whatever you think he did wrong, I promise not to get angry. Just tell me
where he’s gone. Please, tell me now.”

Mecatl clenched his fists so tight his joints went
completely white. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where he
went. But he’ll be back soon, I’m sure. He promised. We’ve been waiting for
him.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said sternly. “You know
very well where he has gone. You worry about him because you know. Tell me!”
She thought of the possibilities. “Did he go back to your
calmecac
, to
argue with someone, or maybe to bring some of your things?”

“Yes, I think he went there,” said Mecatl readily.
Too readily.

She peered at him. “You know more than that.”

“Mother, he’ll be all right,” mumbled Tecuani in
order to take some pressure off Atolli’s friend, she suspected.

“Listen, just tell me where he is!” she demanded,
unable to control her fear anymore. “This is serious, Mecatl. You are not
children anymore; you can’t hide his whereabouts from me like when you were
little boys. He may be risking his life, and I deserve to know. His father may
be able to help, but we have to know what’s going on. You are not children
anymore. He is in trouble again, is he not?”

Horrified, she saw the heavyset youth covering his
face with his palms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I tried to stop him. He
wouldn’t listen.” He straightened his gaze, and she was touched by the anguish
reflected on the round, homely face. “I told him to forget it all and we
argued, then he went off. I… I shouldn’t have let him go. But I didn’t think he
would actually try to climb the Palace’s wall.”

“He
what
?” She leaned against the wall,
unable to draw a breath. “Why? Why would he do that? What was he possibly
looking for?” She ran her palms through her hair. “Why?” She tried to make her
brains work. “When did he go?”

“I don’t know. He left my room somewhere around
noon.”

“It’s midnight now!” She noticed she was shouting
again. Her mind seemed to be wandering through a maze of mounting danger,
fighting a treacherous marshland, sinking deeper with every step.

Trying to find some grip on the reality, she looked
at Tecuani. “When did you see him last?”

“I don’t know,” whispered the boy miserably. He was
pale now, his eyes lacking their usual twinkle. “Mother, what is going to
happen?” The large almond-shaped eyes, so much like hers, peered at her, glittering,
but trying to hold the tears back.

“I don’t know,” she said tiredly. “I… I think we’ll
find something, some solution. I really need your father to come home!” She
turned to leave, then noticed Mecatl’s bulky figure, leaning against the wall,
his massive shoulders sagging, anguished, even pathetic. “Mecatl, I appreciate
your telling me the truth. I… I know you tried to stop him. And then, you came
here to wait for him, instead of just going to sleep. You are a true friend
and… and I’m sure all will be well.”

She patted the wide shoulder, standing on her
tiptoes to reach it, seeing the brown eyes flickering with gratitude, smiling
down at her thankfully. She remembered him as a young boy, he and Atolli,
climbing each other’s walls, playing together, up to their usual mischief. Not
as wild as Tecuani, but wild enough.

And now… Now Atolli was playing much more dangerous
games, climbing forbidden walls, trying to reach… what?

She clenched her teeth and blinked away the welling
tears. Tecpatl really had better come home, she thought with a surprising calm
as she hurried down the wide stairs into the cool freshness of the night.

Chapter 10

Tecpatl eased his shoulders, shifting his weight
from one foot to the other. Texcoco representatives were talking on and on,
blabbering in their flowery version of Nahuatl that he found difficult to
understand. They were
Acolhua
people, a sister-culture of the mighty
Tepanecs, and if truth be known, their dialect was not that different from the
Nahuatl spoken in Azcapotzalco. Yet, in such late hours he had no patience for
anyone, let alone flowery-speaking foreigners.

The chief representative of Texcoco ruler was
stressing the fact that, although Azcapotzalco warriors took the city from its
original
Chichimec
owners, handing it to their Nahua cousins intact and
almost unharmed as if on a beautiful pottery plate, they did not clean the area
completely, so the barbaric
Chichimec
were still bothering the current,
civilized owners of the place.

Do we really have to do all their dirty work
?
wondered Tecpatl irritably, glancing toward the distant terrace, catching a
glimpse of the night sky reflecting through the opened doors. He could not see
the moon, but he knew midnight was nearing.

Stupid Texcoco! Couldn’t they get organized enough
to clean their lowland areas by themselves? Was it that difficult to keep the
fierce
Chichimecs
from coming down their Highlands? Didn’t they have
enough warriors for a simple raid or two?

Tezozomoc, the new Emperor, would probably want to
carry favor with his subject nations, so he’d concede, sending some of his
forces to please their
Acolhua
cousins. Tecpatl hoped it wouldn’t be a
serious enough raid to warrant the Chief Warlord’s involvement. Texcoco was
such a long way to go, crossing the Great Lake, season permitting, by a fleet
of canoes. Such a waste of precious time.

His gaze swept over the masses crowding the throne
area. Well over five, six times twenty men and still the place did not look
crammed. He suppressed his grin, glancing at the gaping provincials. His gaze
wandered, taking in the familiar splendor. Well, this place was impressive, no
argument about that. They would have nothing as inspiring on their side of the
Great Lake.

I hope I won’t be sent to clean their areas this
summer,
he thought absently
. I wish they would shut up and let us all go
home
.

Sakuna might be still up, waiting for him. He felt a
twinge of impatience. Trust her to be awake in these parts of the night, expectant,
chatty, sparkling with life. And love. He suppressed a smile and banished her
from his thoughts, concentrating on the foreigners.

A slave tugged at his cloak.

“Please forgive me, Honorable Warlord, but your
leader of the warriors…” 

Beside the terrace, a tall warrior in a brilliant
spotted blue cloak and a headdress stood overly erect, his eyes on Tecpatl.
Amatl, one of his veterans, clearly had something important to say, if his
facial expression was anything to go by.

Tecpatl slipped away soundlessly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked reaching the terrace.

The tall man shifted uneasily. “Honorable Warlord,
I’m sorry. I’m not sure I should disturb you for something like this. We
weren’t sure if the matter warranted your attention.” He shrugged. “There seems
to have been a man, a stranger, wandering the Palace. Someone who had broken
in. He got away, but the guards are sure he is still around somewhere.”

“Well, it does not warrant my attention. Can’t they
handle something like that all by themselves?”

“I’m sure they can. I told them so. They are out
there combing the upper floor.”

“The upper floor? How did the intruder manage to get
so far? They must have been really napping. I’ll make sure the warriors
guarding the Palace this evening will be punished.”

The veteran of so many battles, Amatl kept studying
the beautiful marble slabs covering the floor.

“There is trouble brewing,” he whispered almost
inaudibly. “Not all of the warriors are happy with the new Emperor.”

Tecpatl tensed. “Go on.”

The warrior seemed to shrink. “They are just rumors.
I can’t say for sure. But we’ve been hearing things. Some say the Emperor is
not the correct one and may not stick around for long. Some say the First Son
is the rightful ruler for Azcapotzalco. They say such a man would be wasted on
Coatepec. They even say Coatepec people may rebel and try to make war on
Azcapotzalco.”

“Ridiculous. Coatepec is a backwater. They have
hardly enough peasants to feed themselves, let alone enough warriors to wage a
war against the Great Capital.”

“Unless…”

The man was so focused on the colorful marble,
Tecpatl examined the beautiful mosaic himself. Unless, of course…

He winced at the thought. Unless they had a strong
leader with a claim to Azcapotzalco’s throne, backed by our own warriors.

He measured the troubled man with a glance. “I
appreciate you telling me this. Keep your ears pricked for the next few days. I
want to know more.”

As he headed back toward his place among the advisers,
he was aware of the twinge of anxiety and a surge of relief. He was correct
following his instincts and not allowing Atolli to enlist into the service of
the Emperor’s somewhat disgruntled brother.

But what was their game?

***

Pressing a wet cloth against his cheekbone, Atolli
shivered. The cotton material helped to dull the pain, but seemed unable to
stop the swelling. He could feel his face growing against his palm.

Shutting his eyes for a heartbeat, he fought the
rising wave of panic. He must have broken something in his face, something
vital, maybe. He could hardly feel the damaged side, and that was more
frightening than the pain.

The plump maid Chictli had threatened to flay
brought in a steaming bowl.

“Take this cloth off,” Chictli ordered him.

“It’s all right. I’m all right as it is,” he
mumbled, having difficulty forming the words with his split lips. At least they
had stopped bleeding, he thought, licking the salty crust.

“You are not,” said the girl curtly. “Get to the
light and let Kaab treat you. She understands such things.”

As he took off the cloth and let the slave girl
examine the swollen side of his face, Chictli moved closer, eyeing him with
some aversion mixed with curiosity.

“You really may have cracked your head, you know,”
she commented. “What were you thinking?”

“I know!” He hissed between his clenched teeth. “You
don’t have to remind me.”

“Well, what
were
you doing wandering around
the Palace?”

There was no way around it. “I had to talk to you.”

She looked pleased. “So you got into all this
trouble for a chance to see me?” She smiled smugly. “Not a very wise action.
What were the chances of you finding me all by yourself?”

“Well, I did find you.” He winced as the slave girl
began rubbing his face with a cloth she dipped into a bowl of a smelly
yellowish liquid. “Whom did you make piss into this bowl?” he asked, grimacing.

“A slave. Does it matter?” Chictli giggled. “It
wasn’t one of us, be sure of that. Too much honor for a troublemaker like you.”

“You should have asked me to fill it,” he grunted,
not amused. “It’s all right to clean a wound with urine, but I don’t need
someone else’s piss on my face.” He glanced at the other bowl. “What’s there?”

“A sap of maguey, of course,” said Chictli
importantly before the slave girl had had a chance to open her mouth. “It is
good for broken skulls.”

“My skull isn’t broken or I would be lying here
unconscious.”
Why did she always irritate him so?

“How would you know? You should look at yourself.
Your face is about twice as large as it should be. And your hair is sticky with
blood too. If we were at my quarters, I would get you to look at my mirror. It
looks hideous
and
deformed.”

The glance he shot at her was dark and threatening.
“I don’t need your mirror. I can feel it.” He winced at the touch of the warm
ointment. “So, if these are not your rooms, where are we now?”

She looked around, haughty and amused. “Do you
imagine me living in such place? I bet even your rooms look better than this.”

He wished the slave girl would finish messing with
his wounds, so he could get up and strangle her mistress.

“Where are we?” he repeated instead.

Chictli shrugged. “This is one of the guest suites.
But it won’t be used for tonight,” she added as an afterthought. “So you can
wait here safely.”

“Will they throw Texcoco visitors to sleep outside?”
He remembered the complaining warrior from the courtyard.

“Kaab, bring this stool closer, will you?”

The maid scurried off, leaving Atolli face up, his
left cheek half-covered with warm sap and dripping.

When she came back, she was dragging a small stool,
woven from plenty of long, pliant reeds. Arranging her long skirt with a few
elegant movements of her delicate palms, Chictli seated herself, looking royal
indeed. He noticed her fingernails were long and polished.

“I see you are well versed in the Palace’s
activities,” she said, leaning forward. A faint scent of rosewater reached his
nostrils. “No, Texcoco guests will get one of the better suites of rooms. This
one is used for the minor, less important delegators. And sometimes the guards
would sleep here.”

Her nearness made him uncomfortable. He wished she
would come closer, would be the one to tend his wounds. The thought stirred an
excitement he wished to conceal at any price.

As if sensing his awkwardness, she leaned closer.
“So, what was so important to make you risk your life like that? What did you
want to tell me?”

He felt incredibly awkward, squatting upon a mat,
his face tilted sideways. Especially now that she sat high on her stool,
towering above him, royal on her throne-like seat.

The slave girl yanked his hair back as he tried to
straighten a little.

Why had he come looking for her? What did he want
to tell her?

“I hope you did not change your mind about joining
my father at Coatepec? It’s too late for that now.”

“I didn’t change my mind.” He shifted uncomfortably.
“I want to go. But my father is against it. He will not agree, will not give
his permission for me to go to Coatepec.”

“Oh, our Chief Warlord proves as difficult as
expected.” She grinned, unperturbed.

He didn’t like that. “Our Chief Warlord is not
difficult. He is the bravest, the smartest, the most fearless of our warriors.
His reasons must be good.”

“But you are still here. Why?”

“I… I still want to go.”

She was pleased, he could see that. Her eyes
glittered against the flickering light of the torch. A long tendril slipped
from the fashionably pulled hair, sliding down her high brow, fluttering
against the gentle curve of her cheek. He wanted to reach out and touch it. Unsettled,
he closed his eyes.

“It’s good you came.” The husky voice rang near his
face, soft and warm. “My father will be here shortly. He’ll know what to do.”

“Here?” He straightened abruptly, causing the slave
to spill some of the ointment. “Not the Revered First Son surely!”

She laughed, straightened up, and the magic was
gone. “Yes the Revered First Son. How many fathers do you think I have?” Her
grin widened, became unbearably smug.

“Is he aware of me being here?”

The slave girl pulled at his hair to make him lean
back. He pushed her away, and she stumbled and dropped the bowl.

“Get off me,” he hissed, glaring at her.

She glared back at him, on her knees now, trying to
collect the ointment off the floor tiles.

“Mistress,” she called out. “Look what he’s done!” 

Chictli laughed. “Go away, Kaab. Check if Cho is
back.” She beamed at Atolli. “You are quite a challenge, you know? Wilder than
any barbarian. They should send you to Texcoco; make you fight
Chichimecs
.
Those savages will never know what came upon them.”

”I have to go,” he said, too frightened to get angry
with her.

“Calm down. Don’t panic. I agree you are not in the
best of conditions to meet the mighty Emperor, but it will happen tonight. So
make the best of it.”

“Your father is not the Emperor.”

“He will be.”

He fought his rising panic. “Why would he bother
meeting me? I’m not even a warrior yet. I’m not of any significance.” He
swallowed. “How does he know I’m here?”

“I sent him word.”

“Why?”

“What did you want me to do? Make you climb down and
over the wall with this cracked head of yours? You came here uninvited,
remember? Now you have to face the consequences.” She leaned forward once
again, but there was nothing girlish or soft in her features this time. The
large eyes bore into him, strangely aglow. “Many important events are happening
all around us. Didn’t you notice that? And I think it’s time you grew up. You
and your friend were used to climbing walls and running around the markets, I
can tell. But this time you went too far. There is no going back this time, you
see? The crime of breaking into the Palace is punishable by death. But you knew
that, of course.” Her smile was as cold as the tiles of the marble floor. “You
knew it, but you did it all the same. Well, now you can only try to make the
best of it. My father needs good warriors. You will make such a one. But you
will have to be loyal, completely
loyal
. Do you understand me? He may
help you out of your trouble –
I hope he will
– but he’ll expect much
loyalty in return. Loyalty and hard work, of course. You can give him both. Oh,
you will be rewarded for these. I’ll make sure you will be.”

There was a promise in her eyes. How quickly she was
changing. One moment girlish and playful, the next – cold and threatening, then
again, so playful his imagination went wild. He took a deep breath.