Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,81
He didn’t even attempt to evade the questions. Clearly, he’d have preferred to wash his hands clean of the whole business.
What he told me was brief, but it confirmed Xahuia’s story that she’d convinced Ocome to swear an unbreakable oath of loyalty to her. Not that I had doubted it, but still…
Now Tizoc-tzin, the She-Snake and Acamapichtli were the ones with the strongest motive. Tizoc-tzin, strongest of all.
”Did you see other councilmen?” I asked.
”Of course.” I’d half-expected he’d deny that, but he was an honest man, a breed all too rare in the palace.
”Manatzpa?”
”Among others.” His voice was cautious again.
Others? “What do you mean?”
Ueman’s gaze drifted towards the expanse of the Imperial Palace, which appeared small and pathetic from such a height. “I’ve had ten councilmen come to me since the beginning of the month, Acatl-tzin.”
Ten was about the whole council, minus the inner circle. “I don’t understand. What did they want?”
”The same thing Manatzpa wanted. The Breath of the Precious Twin.”
There was a fist, slowly closing around my lungs, cutting the breath through my windpipe. “All of them? They all came to you for protection?” Still, there had been star-demons loose in the palace. Ocome had died, and they were under threat. Surely it was enough of a reason to buy a spell?
”Yes.”
”When?” I asked.
My heart sank when he gave me the dates, which all predated Ocome’s murder. Manatzpa had been the first to come, in the wake of Axayacatl-tzin’s death; the others had followed in small groups, almost jostling each other on the temple steps.
”This makes no sense,” I said.
”I can’t give you sense,” Ueman said, stiffly. “All I can tell you is what I witnessed.”
”I know. My apologies. I didn’t mean to impugn your honesty.” For once somebody wasn’t trying to defraud me or lie to me. It was a feeling I’d forgotten, and that was disturbing. The palace had its own rules, and it had slowly sucked me in, to the point I hardly was aware of what was normal.
Never again. As soon as this sordid business was finished, I’d go back to my temple, with only the occasional visit to the palace. Yes. I’d do that.
But, coming back to the matter at hand… I hadn’t been mistaken, back when I had interviewed all the councilmen: they had all been deathly afraid. There had been mundane and magical threats. But this huge, complicated, expensive spell… It seemed almost too much.
It was almost as if they had known the star-demons would come for them.
But how could they have?
It made no sense.
”I see,” I said to Ueman. I pushed the basket towards him. He took it with a puzzled frown, and opened it to peer at its contents.
Butterflies and jade ornaments, and the feathers of quetzal birds, as green as emeralds. “What are those for? Surely you’re not–”
”Paying you for your answers?” I shook my head. “Of course not. Those are for the god.”
”Have you a question, then?”
”No. I have a soul to entrust to His keeping.”
”I see.” His eyes were wide, his gaze as tender as that of a mother for her son. “The Feathered Serpent doesn’t own the Dead, Acatl-tzin. You should know that better than I.”
”He–” An unexpected obstruction had welled up in my throat, making the world swim. I swallowed. “He went down into the underworld once, for the bones of the Dead. He came back.”
”Yes.” Ueman closed the basket, but did not look away from me. “It was a long time ago. The Fifth Age hadn’t yet started, and the gods still had Their full powers.”
”Surely…”
”I can ask.” His voice was quiet, gentle. “He is benevolent and wise. It cannot hurt.”
But he wasn’t sure whether it would help. I hadn’t thought it would, but it was worth a try. Ceyaxochitl had deserved better than the darkness, and the cold, and the dust. “Very well. Thank you,” I said, and rose, and walked away from the Wind Tower, trying to forget the sting in my eyes.
I was hoping to catch Teomitl in the palace, and work out some plan for dealing with Tizoc-tzin, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. So instead I headed to the council room.
The funeral rites were underway, the palace rang with the lamentations of my priests, and everything smelled of incense and burnt paper. From far, far away, I caught a hint of a litany for the Dead:
“We leave this earth
This world of jade and flowers
The quetzal feathers, the silver…”
The council as a whole had nothing more to tell. They