Gods of Jade and Shadow - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,14
if you feared the gods or the night, archer,” Hun-Kamé replied. “But name your price.”
“Archer. How formal we’ve become. Well, as you know, I am restricted in my movements, bound to this city. A ridiculous spell someone set on me,” Loray said.
“By your own doing. If you didn’t want to be here, you shouldn’t have followed those Frenchmen into their petty war of conquest.”
“The mistakes of my youth! It takes a century or two to learn better. Give me leave to travel this land. Open the Black Road of Xibalba so that I may walk it.”
“Open,” the raven repeated, imitating his master.
Hun-Kamé looked at the demon. His angular face had a fixedness to it that was unpleasant, but then he tipped his head, a slight nod.
“When I regain my throne, you may walk the roads of Xibalba, beneath the earth, but Middleworld is not my domain,” the god reminded him.
“That will be sufficient, since from Xibalba I may find my way back to Middleworld easily enough,” the demon replied. “I will tell you who has your ear, but you may not like the answer. It is with the Mamlab, unfortunately, and you know what that entails, gentle rain or hard thunder, who can say. I despise weather gods. They are too moody.”
Loray downed his drink, his eyes resting on Hun-Kamé. Whether he expected Hun-Kamé to be disappointed or pleased with the answer, she did not know, but she did note that the god’s expression was leaden. He revealed nothing.
“Do you know where he is now?”
“Which one?”
“The youngest, for it could be none other than him. Speak, then. Where?”
“You are correct, it is the youngest. And I thought your brother was the diviner!”
“Marquess, vanish your mirth,” Hun-Kamé said, his voice clipped.
Loray sighed. “Precisely? It is hard to tell. Again, that is the problem with weather gods. But it is almost time for Carnival and I wager he will be in Veracruz. You’ll have to take a ship from Progreso to get there, but these days there are many vessels moving in and out of that port, so it should not be a problem. I can arrange your passage if you wish,” the demon said, polite as polite could be. “You might even be able to leave by tomorrow. It’ll give you a chance to rest.”
Rest, yes. Whether it was the trip, the shock of walking next to a god, or the bone shard in her hand, Casiopea felt the desperate need to curl up in bed and sleep.
“Come. You’ll like the guest rooms,” Loray said, guiding them through his house.
Loray was right. Her room was large and airy, with plenty of light filtering in. But she did not pause to look around much, instead falling upon the bed and sleeping as soon as her head touched the pillow.
When Casiopea woke it was to the smell of coffee. Tentatively she opened her eyes and stared at the fine, high ceiling, then lifted herself up, leaning on her elbows.
“Good morning, miss,” a maid said.
“Good morning,” Casiopea repeated.
The maid handed her a tray and cutlery. Casiopea, who until this point was used to serving others, regarded the breakfast with wary eyes.
“Mr. Loray has asked several employees from the Parisian to stop by this morning.”
“What is that?” she asked.
The maid frowned. “It is a shop. They are bringing dresses for you. You’ll have to take a bath.”
Casiopea ate the breakfast, hardly chewing. The maid hurried her, saying the dressmakers would arrive any minute now. She was essentially shoved into the bathroom. It was very different from the simple shower she was used to. It had a big bathtub with iron-clawed feet and on shelves there sat dozens of bottles with expensive oils and perfumes.
She filled the tub to the brim and proceeded to pour from a few of the bottles of oils. Roses and lilacs and other sweet-smelling things. At home, she would clean her neck and face in the water basin each morning and was allowed a shower on Sundays, before church. Grandfather said they should not use the hot water, that a good cold shower was what young people needed to keep their heads clear of noxious ideas. Casiopea made sure to leave the hot tap open until the bathroom was clouded with steam. Then she slid into the tub so that the water reached her chin. She had a knack for quiet insurrection.
Once she was done washing away the grime of the road, the water in the tub rendered murky,