Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,104
Prince, the man who had ruled the legendary city of Tula as the incarnation of Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent.
Teomitl took in a sharp, unpleasant breath, and threw a glance at me. I nodded. It was a spell set in a circle wide enough to contain an entire battalion with the blood of dozens of… I paused, then, unsure of whether Nezahual-tzin would be ready to sacrifice so many of his subjects for one ritual. But no, the Feathered Serpent disliked human sacrifices. It had to be animals.
Still, it was impressive.
Shallow steps descended towards the centre of the courtyard, and so did the water too, flowing over them in a wide cascade. In the middle of the water was an island of stone, the part above the water carved over with a mass of serpents, that shivered and danced in the sunlight, almost as if they were alive… I shifted, and saw a yellow eye open and close. The gods take me, it was stone, and they were somehow alive.
Slaves laid a bridge to carry us across the water. Nezahualtzin walked onto it with scarcely a break in his stride
The only building on the island was an awning of cotton, a poor protection against the gaze of the Fifth Sun. Someone sat underneath – shifted slightly when Nezahual-tzin approached, in a way that was gut-wrenchingly familiar. Beside me, Teomitl tensed. “Acatl-tzin.”
”I know,” I said, having only eyes for her.
”You have visitors,” Nezahual-tzin said, in the way of a priest enjoying a secret joke. “See that you behave yourself.”
”When have I not behaved myself, brother?” Xahuia-tzin, Axayacatl’s missing wife, smiled up at us, as careless and as regal as if she had still been ensconced within the Imperial Palace in Tenochtitlan, but her eyes were dark and hollow, those of a woman already defeated.
A quick, intelligent man would have made a snide remark to let Nezahual-tzin know that his manipulation had not succeeded. A smarter man would have smiled, enjoying the same secret joke.
I was neither fast on my feet, nor smart, nor dishonest. I simply gaped, looking for words that seemed to have fled.
“It has been a long time, Acatl-tzin,” Xahuia said.
Nezahual-tzin had retreated slightly, standing near the wooden bridge leading back to the palace, his hand carelessly wrapped around the hilt of his macuahitl sword. But, of course, like the She-Snake, he never did anything carelessly.
Teomitl spoke first, his face as harsh as newly-cut jade. “You said you hadn’t found her.”
Nezahual-tzin smiled. “I would have hated to waste a good ritual. Wouldn’t you?” He inclined his head in a way that implied disagreeing with him would be foolish.
”I think a little honesty would have served us all better,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended – cutting Teomitl mid-sentence, before he could say something irreparable. Perhaps it was a good thing, after all, that he was far removed from the imperial succession; or he and Nezahual-tzin would tear what remained of the Triple Alliance apart.
”Perhaps,” Nezahual-tzin just smiled that smug, annoying smile of the superior. He looked every bit the warrior parading through the streets. “Won’t you talk to her, Acatl?”
”I don’t see why I should. You’ve already learnt everything you need to.”
”You’re assuming I spoke to him,” Xahuia said. She threw a glance at her brother that was– no, not hatred, but something more complex, a mixture of reluctant admiration and determination. “I don’t see why I should.”
It occurred to me that someone was missing from the family reunion. “Your son–”
”My own business,” Nezahual-tzin cut in. “Talk to her, Acatl.”
Like his suggestion for the ritual, it was an order from a Revered Speaker in his own right. One day, I’d get used to the fact that the person speaking in such a composed, authoritarian tone was a boy, barely old enough to have left calmecac school.
But then again… I might as well make use of the opportunity before me, before he did whatever he’d intended to do with us all along. “I’m not sure you’ll want to talk to me,” I said to Xahuia.
She lifted her head and there was still, in spite of everything, a hint of the same attractiveness I’d seen back in the palace, in another life. Her eyes met mine, held my gaze for a while.
”I’ll speak to you,” she said. “Alone.”
Nezahual-tzin’s shoulders moved, in what might have been a shrug. “As you wish. Teomitl?”
Teomitl glared back at him, but they stepped back onto the shores of the islands, unconcernedly.