Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,68
brushed by the Feathered Serpent Himself. He might not have been an agent, the sole repository of the god’s power, but he still had enough magic to make trouble if he wished to.
”Your god won’t protect you.” Teomitl’s voice was scornful.
”Neither will your goddess, when it comes to this,” Nezahual-tzin said.
I’d never thought I’d see two young men fight like cockerels, an unseemly spectacle, witnesses or not. “Enough.”
The light dimmed. Nezahual-tzin still stood as straight as a spear, waiting for my answer. “Your sister engaged in sorcery,” I said, carefully.
”So does most of the Imperial Family.”
”Not that kind of sorcery. The sorcerer in her service was named Nettoni.”
Nezahual-tzin’s eyes narrowed. “Mirror” could only refer to one god – Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror and eternal enemy of his own patron god Quetzalcoatl. “You lie.”
”Ask around the palace,” I said as casually as I could. I already had enough enemies without adding this cocksure boy to the list. “He was well-known.”
Nezahual-tzin was silent for a while, pondering, giving me enough time to consider what would happen if he held me responsible. Enough unpleasant things to make me regret Tizoc-tzin’s threats of dismissal.
Then he turned to the two Jaguar Knights who had escorted him inside. “Is this true?” he asked, bluntly.
The Jaguar Knights looked at each other. “Yes.”
”I see.” The light around him contracted as if someone had enclosed it in a fist. “Where is she, Acatl-tzin?”
It wasn’t quite the same tone, though he still didn’t look happy. Not that I could blame him, though I doubted it was affection that prompted his question. To lose her would be a fatal admission of weakness to the Texcocans.
I, on the other hand, didn’t care much about losing face. “I don’t know. Nettoni sacrificed himself to let her and her son escape. Presumably they found refuge somewhere in the city.” And presumably she was still weaving her webs of intrigue. She was a determined woman.
”I see.” He said nothing for a while. “Then my men and I will join the search for her. Let it not be said that a Texcocan can escape justice.”
Teomitl stiffened in shock. “She’s–”
”A political tool,” I cut in.
Nezahual-tzin smiled, without much joy. “You still have much to learn, pup.”
”Pup?”
”Teomitl,” I said, warningly.
”He’s the one picking the quarrel.”
”No, he’s the one provoking you. You don’t have to answer.”
I glared at Nezahual-tzin, daring him to counter with some mocking remark about how to keep my pup on a leash. But his face was serious again, and he was watching me with a gleam in his eyes I didn’t care much for, like a snake making up its mind about a rodent. “Don’t let me detain you,” I said. “You must have plenty of rituals to attend, and respects to pay.”
Nezahual-tzin smiled, that same thin, unamused smile I had seen on the face of the She-Snake. “No doubt.” But he did not move, still considering me in that unnerving way of his.
”You owe respect to my brother,” Teomitl cut in.
Nezahual-tzin’s gaze moved, slightly. “The living one, or the dead one?”
”You know which one.” Teomitl’s face was flushed.
”The dead one.” He turned to me, slightly bending his head, looking for all the world like a snake or a bird. “Apologies, Acatl-tzin. I knew him well in life, and I don’t think he would begrudge me a little delay.”
Of course, Axayacatl had been the one to save Nezahual-tzin, to cast down the over-ambitious brothers and bring the young Revered Speaker to Tenochtitlan. Which also meant he would know Tizoc-tzin and the She-Snake, and it did not look as though he was eager to see either. “The Dead can wait,” I said, bowing my head in return. “But not on a caprice.”
Nezahual-tzin shifted slightly, the obsidian shards of his macuahitl sword glinting in the sunlight. “Paying my respects is all I’ve come to do, after all. I’m Revered Speaker of Texcoco, and will not play a part in whatever squabbles Tizoc and the She-Snake have. But you don’t look like a man likely to be caught in their games.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed by his accuracy, or annoyed at the distant, unconcerned way he considered us all. Teomitl had no such scruples. “You look like a man too cowardly to be caught in anything, Nezahual-tzin.”
Nezahual-tzin’s lips curved around the word “pup”, but he did not say it aloud, and luckily Teomitl didn’t see it. “I’ve learnt to see where the priorities are ” His gaze narrowed again, becoming infinitely distant, as if he held