Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,28
said. I was tired, but this was more important. I had to see Palli or I’d lose his respect.
Ichtaca led me through the courtyard, past the numerous examination rooms that opened into the frescoed walls. Students were crowding around one of the entrances. I could hear snatches of sound from inside, a lesson on how bodies changed after death, and how to look for the signs of poison.
”How did it go?” Ichtaca asked.
”Not well.” I couldn’t quite keep the frustration out of my voice.
“They’re all bickering about who gets to be Revered Speaker.”
Ichtaca’s gaze drifted upwards, towards the star-studded sky.
”I know about the star-demons. But they don’t seem to.” There was one star there which shone more brightly than the others: He who was the Evening Star and the Morning Star, Quetzalcoatl the Feathered Serpent, the God of Knowledge and Creation – the god of all priests, whoever they served. He was the only one on our side, but His powers, like those of all the gods, were constrained in the Fifth World.
”Not a time for games,” Ichtaca said. “But, if that’s their will…”
I had no constructive answer, merely a prayer to the Duality that we weather the transition without too much bloodshed.
Palli, the offering priest in charge of Axayacatl-tzin’s funeral, was waiting cross-legged in one of the smaller examination rooms, under a fresco that showed the progress of the soul through the levels of Mictlan, from the river that marked the boundary, to the ninth level, to Lord Death’s throne. The god sat, bathed in blood, on a chair made of bones, skeletal and hunched, with his ribs poking out of His chest, His clawed hands empty.
Palli rose when we came in. “Acatl-tzin. Ichtaca-tzin.”
I bowed, a fraction, as befitted our respective functions. I hated the formalities, but I knew he and Ichtaca lived by them. “I apologise. I ran into some trouble in the palace, but that’s not an excuse.”
His gaze suggested, very clearly, that I was High Priest, and that it wasn’t his place to question me, an attitude I’d always found unhealthy. At least Ichtaca always made it clear when I erred. I sighed. “What have you found?”
He handed me a list written on maguey paper in a neat hand, every glyph aligned and detailed, as if it had been written by a high-level scribe. Names and dates.
”I thought you might need to know birth-signs,” Palli said.
A man’s birth-sign determined his access to different kinds of magics and his innate talent. I had been born on a day One Reed, which put me under the gaze of the Curved Point of Obsidian, Lord of Justice, of the Feathered Serpent, and of course of Lord Death.
I scanned the list. Many names I knew. The She-Snake was near the top, as was Echichilli the old councilman; and even Manatzpa. In fact, most of the council was.
There were some notable absences, though. “Xahuia?” I asked.
Palli shook his head. “The Texcocan wife? She wouldn’t be in here, Acatl-tzin, and neither would her retinue. They seldom get out of the women’s quarters, and never out of the palace, so there is no need.”
No need to register them, because they’d never need to enter the palace again. I smoothed the paper carefully. “I see.” One name caught my attention. “Who is Pezotic?”
Palli bent over me, trying to read the glyphs upside-down. I turned the paper towards him, and pointed to one name near the bottom.
”Master on the Edge of the Water?” Palli asked. “That’s a councilman’s title, isn’t it?”
”It sounds like one,” I said, slowly. “But I would have remembered if I’d interviewed him.” And I had interviewed the whole council. Manatzpa and Echichilli had told me as much.
”There are many other names on the list,” Ichtaca said, in a conciliatory tone. “Surely you need not waste your time with this one.”
”If he’s a councilman and he’s not there anymore, then I want to know. And I want to know why.” Quenami had made it clear one did not demote councilmen, but it seemed like this had in fact happened. I’d have to ask Manatzpa next time I saw him.
I looked over the list some more, but I couldn’t see anything else that was surprising. “Thank you,” I said to Palli, and folded the paper back into a fan-shape. “What about the rooms?”
Even before he grimaced, I’d guessed what his answer would be. “I can only spare six or seven priests, and it’s a large palace. If you want, I can get more.