Harbinger of the Storm - By Aliette De Bodard Page 0,93
above me. “I inscribed this with the blood of a human sacrifice before coming here. It won’t last. But at least we’ll have a more coherent conversation.”
I struggled to bring my mind back from the boundaries of the Fifth World, where it seemed to have fled. “I don’t understand–”
”You’re a fool,” Acamapichtli said. “That’s all there is to say.” He did not move, watching me pull myself into a more upright position. Saliva had run down my chin, staining my cloak and I tasted blood in my mouth. I must have bitten my tongue as I sank into oblivion.
”Tlaloc,” I said. My thoughts seemed to be a hundred scattered shards, the pieces of a broken mirror. “Lord Death. I–” I had been stretched out, as thin as though I was deprived of sustenance – dying, perhaps? If they left me longer in here, I would come out a drooling idiot. “What is this place?”
”Finally.” In the dim light, I guessed more than saw his smile, as predatory as that of his god. “No longer the Fifth World, Acatl.”
A god’s world. A land where both my magic, which came from Lord Death, and that of Acamapichtli, which came from the Storm Lord, were uninvited guests. “The Southern Hummingbird,” I said. “This is land consecrated to Him.”
”Not quite. It’s His land, Acatl, a portal into a small part of His heartland. Whatever you’ve done, they want to make sure you remain silent, badly enough to spend so much power on your prison.”
The heartland. The seven caves. Aztlan, the White Place where we had all come from, the centre of Huitzilpochtli’s power. “I have done nothing,” I said, still struggling to reorder my thoughts. “Yet.” Too late, I remembered the snatches I’d heard in Tizoc-tzin’s rooms, about removing the opposition. I should have thought a little more on who they’d consider against them.
Acamapichtli smiled again. “That’s why they want you in here.”
”And I suppose…” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “I suppose you’re with them?” I could see no other reason for him to be back at Court so soon.
”Don’t be a fool.” He snorted.
”You came back…”
He shrugged, a thoughtless, arrogant gesture. “I needed some time to make myself forgotten, but it seems events are moving faster than I foresaw.”
”You’re out of the game,” I said.
”Xahuia-tzin is out of the game,” Acamapichtli said, thoughtfully. “That doesn’t mean I am. But I don’t have Quenami’s powers, alas.”
His face had the same haughty cast as when he’d told Teomitl the envoys weren’t his. “That’s a lie, isn’t it?” Gingerly, I pulled myself upwards, careful to remain near the jaguar’s fang. My head brushed against the ceiling and, up there, further away from the magic, I could feel it, the skittering at the edge of my mind, the force that wanted to erode my whole being. How could Acamapichtli stand it?
No doubt he had his own protections. No doubt he had planned for it. He was not the prisoner here.
He was still watching me. The shadows sculpted his face, made it seem as distant as that of a carved statue in the darkness of a shrine. “That’s a lie, isn’t it?” I repeated. “You’re more than strong enough to blast us all out of the Fifth World.”
”Perhaps.” He bent his head sideways, as if considering me in a new light. Without a doubt, I was no longer the High Priest that he had seen in the corridors, perhaps no longer his peer. I had no doubt he’d cast me aside without a moment’s doubt if I was no longer useful to him.
But still, he had come to visit me. He had spent the power of a human sacrifice to speak with me. Just to gloat? “What do you want?”
”What I’ve always wanted,” Acamapichtli said. “The Fifth World to survive, and our new Revered Speaker to lead us to glory.” He cocked his head again. “One that would remember that the Great Temple is more than the Southern Hummingbird’s territory.”
Finally, we were there, at the crux of the matter. “You had influence before,” I said. “Before the Storm Lord tried to seize power.”
”I’m not responsible for His actions.” He sounded almost annoyed at that, as if he could pretend to control the will of his god.
”And you think I can help you?”
”No,” Acamapichtli said. “Of course you can’t, Acatl. Let’s be honest here. You blunder into Court day after day, doing your best to follow intrigues you are utterly ignorant of.”