Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,84
He was of the Triple Alliance, but not Mexica, and Tizoc-tzin would seize on any association between us to make me look worse in the eyes of the Court. I ought to have refused him. I ought to have walked away from whatever he proffered, trusted my instincts and let Yaotl’s men continue the search. But the Duality was weak, and the Southern Hummingbird had retreated to safer climes and could not help us any longer.
”Only on this,” I said.
His lips curled up for a smile, revealing teeth like the fangs of a snake. “Good.”
Night had fallen by the time I exited Nezahual-tzin’s chambers, and my fatigue was worsening. My stomach yawned in my body like the blind, gaping mouth of a beast; and the world around me was not as steady as it had once been. I stopped by a carved pillar to catch my breath, waiting for the colours to return to sharpness and the wave of dizziness to pass.
There was little time left. I could rest later; what I needed now was an audience with the She-Snake.
I took the time to shed my blood for the Fifth Sun, to comfort Him in his journey across the night sky, and then detoured through some nobleman’s kitchens, to snatch maize and peppers from a passing slave. After that, I headed back to the other side of the palace.
It stood wreathed in darkness, a counterpart to Tizoc-tzin’s chambers. The plaintive music of a bone flute wafted from above, like an offering to the Heavens, an unceasing prayer for our continued existence.
The platform was deserted, and so were the chambers behind the entrance-curtain, the only smell that of old incense congealing in the burners. No one stopped me as I stepped through the remnants of a feast, my feet crunching on crumbs of fried food, and torn reed-mats.
The She-Snake sat in the central courtyard, on a coarse reed mat, listening to the music. He dressed in unrelieved black once more, his face a clearer patch in the shadows, his eyes closed, his hands unclenched in his lap.
The clatter of my sandals on the stone floor made him look up. The music quivered, and then stopped as the slave threw a glance at the She-Snake, who nodded, gravely, as if my entrance were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
”My Lord…” I said.
He shook his head. “No need to apologise, Acatl. It’s a beautiful night for an interview, isn’t it?”
Overhead were the stars, unclouded, the blinking eyes of monsters, the elbows and joints of they who would tear the world apart. Overhead was the Moon, the incarnation of a vengeful, angry goddess who stirred in Her underground prison.
”I don’t think so,” I said.
”A pity.” The She-Snake nodded, gravely. “Leave us, will you?” he asked the slave, who bowed in return, and left us alone in the courtyard.
The She-Snake did not move, sitting tall and straight on his mat, as regal as if he had been Revered Speaker himself, waiting for me to speak up. The air was cold and crisp, like the breath of the lake at dawn.
”I come because I have no choice,” I said, finally. “I have questions–”
He raised a hand, not unkindly. “Priests always have questions, Acatl. Whatever god you serve, you seek and hoard knowledge like jade or turquoise.”
It sounded half like a reproach, but I did not rise to the bait. There was too much at stake. “You haven’t been exactly enthusiastic about helping me before,” I said.
The She-Snake raised an eyebrow. “I am a busy man, but not an impolite one. You can’t hope to come to me with any petty requests you might have, and to have me jump up to see that your needs are met.”
The words came fast and smooth, with barely any pause in his breath. I couldn’t believe any of them. He was too much at ease, as if he had been expecting this conversation all along. “I see. And now that I’m here…”
”I have time,” the She-Snake said. He looked up, at the night sky. “Thanks to your trick with the Duality, we have plenty of time left.”
”It wasn’t a trick.”
”Ask Quenami.” The She-Snake’s face was expressionless, but he sounded amused. “I very much doubt it’s on his list of authorised behaviours, even in the absence of a Revered Speaker.”
”Quenami is a fool,” I said.
The She-Snake nodded gravely. “We can agree on that, if nothing else. Was that the only question you had, Acatl?”