Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,40
my gut.
”The sun is strong at its zenith, but at dawn and at dusk its light is all but useless. So it is with Huitzilpochtli.” Quenami sounded as if he were giving a lecture, save that the smugness had been scoured from his voice. “Now is dusk, the time of coyotes and jaguars.”
The time of Tezcatlipoca the Smoking Mirror, of Coyolxauhqui of the Silver Bells. “I still don’t see how the god can be powerless,” I said. “We see evidence of His presence every day above us.”
”Tonatiuh the Fifth Sun is still here,” Quenami said. “But Huitzilpochtli has retreated to the heart of his strength, bracing Himself for our defence.”
He sounded as though he only believed half of it, and that was more frightening than His previous arrogance had been. What would we do, if the Southern Hummingbird could not protect us against His sister.
”The heart of his strength,” Acamapichtli said, thoughtfully. “The heartland.”
Quenami grimaced. “Yes.”
The heartland. Aztlan, the White Place, where our seven ancestors had emerged from their caves into the burning light of day, and where the Southern Hummingbird had promised them they would crush the world under their sandaled feet if they followed Him. Our place of birth, our place of origin.
”Why the curiosity?” I asked.
”Nothing.” Acamapichtli made a dismissive gesture. “Just making sure what help we could expect.”
For all His reassurances, I didn’t like Acamapichtli’s probing: the heartland was also where Huitzilpochtli was, diminished and less powerful than his usual.
The perfect time to put an end to the reign of a god.
Quenami made a dismissive gesture. “The Southern Hummingbird will be here when He is needed, Acamapichtli, you can be sure of it.”
Acamapichtli bowed, but his gaze was mocking. “As you wish. Meanwhile–”
”Meanwhile, we keep this palace warded.” Quenami’s voice was firm. “We make sure everyone is safe.”
”Safe?” I all but choked on the word. “This is the second murder, Quenami. I’d say it proves beyond a doubt that we can’t keep ourselves safe.”
”Not so fast, Acatl. The first murder was a star-demon, but the second attempt… I grieve for Ceyaxochitl-tzin, believe me, but this was purely mundane.”
Mundane – this was how he would dismiss her? “She had found a devotee of the Silver Bells,” I snapped.
”Still mundane.” Acamapichtli sounded angry, as if he couldn’t believe my foolishness. But I wasn’t able to let him cow me into silence.
”Heavily linked to the first,” I said. “Enough to make it necessary to hunt down whoever is summoning the star-demons.”
”And we will,” Quenami said.
”I’ve already said it, you put far little trust in our resilience,”
Acamapichtli said. “We have always endured. We will this time, too.”
Quenami said, smoothly, “But your investigation is important too, Acatl.”
Another way of saying he had no intention of helping. “Quenami.”
”Acatl.” Quenami’s voice was firm. “We have reached a decision.”
”You have,” I said.
”No, we,” Quenami said. “Do you forget? We are the High Priests. We make the decisions as a group.”
Only when it suited him. But I couldn’t say that. Teomitl might have, in my stead, but I was just a peasant ascended into the priesthood, with no influence or powerful relatives to shelter me. With Tizoc-tzin and Acamapichtli against me, I could not afford to gainsay Quenami. I clenched my hands. “Fine,” I said. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a body to prepare for a funeral.”
They could not contradict me on this, and let me walk away without another word.
One man with too much confidence in his wards, and another who kept insisting that the Fifth World would resist anything, as if he still wanted to find out how to break it once and for all. That was what we had, for High Priests, Duality curse me.
Should another star-demon come down, they would be useless.
I, on the other hand, was determined not to be.
EIGHT
On Mictlan’s Threshold
I entered the Imperial Chambers with more reluctance than the last time, remembering the unpleasantness of my previous visit.
I passed them with a deep bow, and divested myself of my sandals in the antechamber. Everything was silent; not the hostile, pregnant atmosphere everywhere else in the palace, but a final silence I knew all too well, one that could not be appealed against or dissipated.
My six priests had withdrawn against the wall as I entered. Palli bowed to me, the blood on his pierced earlobes glistening in the dim light. “It is done, Acatl-tzin.”
The body of the Revered Speaker lay on the reed mat, dressed in multi-coloured garb, the knees folded up until they touched the