Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,115
to grant Tizoc-tzin His favour.”
”Of course.” Pezotic smiled again, and for the first time it eclipsed his fear. “Tizoc-tzin was the only member of the council who didn’t come. Of course the future Revered Speaker couldn’t be sacrificed like a common victim. And of course Huitzilpochtli didn’t like that.” He shivered again. He hadn’t told me anything of what had gone on in the heartland itself. I wondered what could be more unpleasant than slowly suffocating to death – and decided I could live without knowing.
Tizoc-tzin hadn’t come. He hadn’t been willing to offer himself up like the others – raw cowardice. I’d never had any personal contact with the Southern Hummingbird, but I could imagine how He would feel about that.
”And the star-demons?”
Pezotic shivered again. “Sacrifices,” he said. “Itzpapalotl.”
Gods, I could have kicked myself. Itzpapalotl was the Obsidian Butterfly, the living incarnation of a sacrificial knife. And her underlings the star-demons were the same, tools for claiming blood and souls.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t heard from the guards in a while; or, indeed, much of anything. I looked back, and wished I hadn’t. Teomitl was facing the leader of the warriors, while the other three sat on the ground, looking dazed.
I forced my attention back to Pezotic. “Why come here? It’s Fifth Sun territory, isn’t it?”
Pezotic shook his head. “Not that. It’s the place where order was shaped out of darkness and chaos. The place where the Fifth Sun called the world into being. No destructive influences can come here. I’m safe here.” He hugged himself, as if he didn’t quite believe it.
”And that’s all you know?” I asked, but saw the gleam in his eyes, the unmistakable hints of joy. Something else…
Oh no.
He must have seen the horror dawning in my eyes, the clutch of ice tightening round my heart. “It’s not the council that’s the problem,” I said, slowly. “Their fate is already sealed, the price has already been paid. It’s not… ” Not the council, but those who had sent them here, those who had to pay for their presumption. Echichilli was dead, and so was Axayacatltzin, but there remained the main instigator of all of this, the man to whom the Southern Hummingbird had refused to grant his favour.
The man who, by now, through cajoling and threatening and bribing and the gods knew what else Quenami could come up with, would have been elected Revered Speaker of the Mexica Empire.
I couldn’t remember an instance of a Revered Speaker killed within days or hours of being elected. But, the Storm Lord’s lightning strike me, I couldn’t even dwell on the consequences. If nothing kept the Southern Hummingbird in check, if nothing sheltered us, if we didn’t have His favour anymore…
There were dozens of city-states watching us, waiting for any sign of weakness to launch themselves at our throats like vultures finishing off dying animals, to say nothing of the magical consequences…
We had to get back to Tenochtitlan, and fast, before the worst happened.
Sorting out the conflict between Teomitl and the guards was tricky, but not impossible. It did end up with both of us being “escorted” back to Nezahual-tzin, all but prisoners. They grabbed Pezotic, too, in spite of his protestations. He looked even uglier than before, all hunched back on himself like the Aged Fire-God.
”I’m not sure I understand,” Teomitl said. They had confiscated his macuahitl sword; and his face was back to normal, although some of the divine light still seemed to be clinging to his features, a fact I’d once have considered as faintly worrying were it not for the urgency gnawing at my entrails like a fanged snake. “You said we had to keep ready for our escape.”
”Yes,” I said. “But this isn’t the point anymore.” The point was getting back to Tenochtitlan as fast as we could, and only Nezahual-tzin could ensure that.
I could foresee a long argument, though.
In the courtyard of our residence, Nezahual-tzin was seated cross-legged in the shade by the columns of the porch. He smiled at us when we came in, with a faint hint of irony. “Welcome back. I can see your day has been fruitful.”
”Unlike yours,” Teomitl snapped.
”Oh, I should say it has been most fruitful indeed.” He pointed to Pezotic, and then back to us, neatly grouping us together.
”This can wait,” I said. “We have to get back to Tenochtitlan as soon as possible.”
”I don’t see why.” Nezahual-tzin looked puzzled. “There’s hardly anything that would –”