by Zoe Saadia
“But for a cup of octli, I’m well set.”
“Octli? You can’t drink that,” she mumbled, her mouth full. “Only warriors are allowed to drink that beverage. It plays with your mind.”
“I am a warrior,” he said. “I raided that food stall for you.”
Her laughter trilled, making his heart beat faster. “It was more of a theft, but you are a warrior, and you deserve three cups of octli at the very least.” She beamed at him, her eyes black and glittering, enormous in the gentle roundness of her face. Stomach hollow, he fought the urge to pull her closer.
“Do you think this way will bring us to the Plaza?” he asked instead, peering down the alley.
“It would be the right direction if this one is not a dead end.” She sprang to her feet. “Let’s go.”
It was already deep into the afternoon when they reached the wide avenue lined with temples. Relieved, he hastened his steps. Maybe he’d leave this capital in one piece after all.
“They are going to kill me back home,” she said.
“Is this the first time you’ve run away?”
“No. But I never disappeared for so long, so my maid was able to keep it a secret. But now?” The girl inhaled loudly. “Now, they’ll know for certain, and they’ll be mighty upset. My maid will be sold, and I’ll be locked away.” She sighed. “My brother always warned me against being caught.”
“Maybe it’ll be all right,” he said, disturbed with her sudden sadness. “I did many stupid things today, but here I am. In one piece and about to get away with it.”
“There was nothing stupid about what you did. You saved me.”
“Not this. There were other things.” He hesitated. “I shouldn’t have come here, to your altepetl, in the first place.”
“So you are not from here!” she called triumphantly.
He shrugged.
“You can tell me.” She looked at him searchingly. “There have been so many foreigners in the city for moons now. Because of the war. Delegations upon delegations. Even if you are a Tepanec, it doesn’t matter. There are plenty of Tepanecs around here, and I mean plenty! A whole district of them. They don’t feel foreign. So, why should you?”
They stood on the Plaza, undecided, oblivious of the people rushing around them.
“I should take you to your home,” he said hesitantly. “It is not safe for you to go all alone wherever you live.”
She smiled broadly. “All right.”
‘Where to?”
“To the Palace, where else?”
“You don’t live in the Palace!”
Her dark eyes were dancing again, making his stomach hollow. “So you didn’t believe me after all. About the litter and the army of slaves.”
He licked his lips. “I did. But the Palace? Why would you live in the Palace?”
“Because that’s where I live. I told you. It may sound nice, but it’s dreadfully boring. I wish I lived in the city. Or somewhere else around the countryside. Where do you live?”
“Far, far away.”
“Will you be coming back to Texcoco?”
He shrugged, pleased with her asking that.
“Send me that note while you are here.”
Her eyes sparkled in the descending dusk, the most polished obsidian he had ever seen. The breeze was stronger here on the Plaza, increasing with the rapidly disappearing sun. A silky tendril escaped her tight braid, fluttering across the soft curve of her cheek. Without thinking, he reached for it.
The touch of her skin made him shiver. His fingers lingered as she gazed at him, mesmerized. The sounds of the Plaza dimmed. The air stood still. He knew he had to pull her closer, whatever the consequences.
Then her gaze leaped aside and the magic broke. As she gasped, he heard the sounds of the Plaza returning with doubled strength. There was a lot of noise and some people were shouting, running in their direction. A large group of people with torches, accompanied by warriors. His heart missed a beat. Unable to breathe, he stared at them as they neared, limbs paralyzed.
A woman broke from the group, rushing toward them. “Iztac-Ayotl!” she shouted.
“Oh no!” breathed the girl. She clasped his hand. “I think you had better go. Quick!”
He did not wait for her to repeat her words. Dashing aside, he turned around and charged for the deepening shadows behind the nearest temple.
He could hear their shouts, loud and threatening, could hear the pounding of their steps behind him. Doubling his efforts, he turned around the temple’s corner. A wall loomed ahead, blocking his way. Not very high, it was a solid, stony structure of many large slabs. Still, it presented many cracks and small ledges. Enough for a Highlander, skilled in climbing since before he could walk.
He leaped onto the lowest ledge. His fingers claws, he clutched at the cracks between the slabs, pulling with all his might. His legs slipped again and again, but he found his hold anew every time, working his way up. Someone managed to grab his sandal, but the hands slipped off, and then he was too high, out of their reach.
His palms reached the top, clung to it desperately as he relished the luxury of holding onto something wide and solid. A round stone smashed beside him, bouncing off the damp bricks. He doubled his efforts, his leg reaching for the top. His upper back absorbed a mighty blow, but he still held on, regaining his breath, readying himself for the last effort.
He could hear the girl’s voice, and it distracted him for a moment.
“Don’t do it!” she screamed, voice high-pitched and ugly, choking with tears. “Please! He didn’t do anything wrong. Please, don’t! You can’t do it!”
When something pushed his head forward, he was just about to throw his body over the edge. His face met the cold stones with such a force it stunned him. There was no pain, only a surprise. He felt his fingers slipping, but the fall was strangely slow, like in a dream. He didn’t feel any of it. Still, he was aware of the hands dragging him somewhere. People were talking loudly, angrily.
A woman was crying, repeating over and over. “Iztac-Ayotl, you are all right. Thank all the Gods, you are all right. Thank all the Gods!”
His eyes stung, awash with a warm sticky flow, but he still tried to open them. The girl sounded so very near now, still screaming. He could just imagine those luminous black eyes of her sparkling with rage.
“You can’t do it!” she screamed over and over. “Leave him alone. I hate you. I hate you all!”
Then darkness descended.
Chapter 4
The darkness dispersed slowly, painfully. As he climbed out of the black pit, he felt the pain enveloping him. His whole body hurt as if it had been dragged through a rocky ridge, and his face was on fire.
Lights flickered, nearing and swimming away, their movement nauseating in the swaying darkness. He blinked again and again, trying to make it stop moving. It didn’t help, so he closed his eyes, gaining a measure of relief.
The voices floated nearby. Somewhere in the room, people were talking calmly, unhurriedly. He also picked up the sound of clattering cups. Someone laughed, then drank, slurping loudly. Kuini licked his lips. Water, he thought, nauseated by the salty taste on his tongue. He needed to get some water. And then to understand what had happened. Where was he?
He tried to turn around, but his hands refused to move, stuck awkwardly behind his back. It took him an effort to understand, then a wave of panic washed his whole being. He was tied. And wounded. And in the enemy’s hands. Oh, Gods!
He clasped his lips tight, suppressing any sound that might burst out unrestrained. What had happened? He tried to remember, but the clubs pounding inside his skull redoubled their efforts, making him dizzy with pain.
A light neared. He blinked against it, trying to see, but the figure above him blurred and swayed.
“Oh, the boy is back among the living,” said a voice, slightly amused. The man knelt. “Can you hear me, eh wild boy?”
He stared at the man’s face, trying to make it out
in the swaying fog.
“He doesn’t look well,” said the man. “I’ll get you some water, boy.”
It took the man ages to come back, or maybe just a heartbeat. He could not tell. A rough hand pushed his head up, releasing more pain in its back. He felt a flask brought to his lips. The water tasted good, and he choked trying to drink all of it.
“Easy, boy, easy. There is enough water.”
The hand pushed him farther up, but it made his nausea so much worse. He gagged, fighting it back, desperate not to vomit. Not in front of them. They would think he was afraid, scared, terrified. Well, he may be all of it, but he would not vomit because of the fear. It was just that the world was spinning so wildly. He felt the flask reaching his lips once again. More water made him feel better.
“Where am I?” he croaked, then regretted the question. Why should they tell him? Why should he give them the power to refuse, to tell him to shut up?
“In the Palace’s guards’ quarters,” said the man, taking the flask and wiping its spout carefully with the rim of his cloak. “Waiting for one of the leaders to take a look at you.”
His stomach turned again. “Why?”
“Why?” The man laughed heartily. “The score of your crimes is higher than the Great Pyramid.”
He took a deep breath, then another. It made the nausea lessen. “What did I do?”
“All right, let us see.” Clearly amused, the man thrust his palm forward. “You made trouble on the Plaza, ran away from the guards and fought them, and of course, kidnapping a princess is quite a feat for a boy of your years.”
“I did all that?” he asked, blinking. They must have been insane to think he did any of that. But then, what would they be if not the insane Lowlanders? What could one expect from such a lot?
“Oh, yes. You’ll be brought before the head of the court sometime during the morning, but in the meanwhile, one of the leaders will want to question you. Have to know who you are before bothering the courts.”
The man turned around and left. Kuini shut his eyes, leaning heavily against the wall. Oh Gods, let them get it over with fast. He could not hold out against this nausea for much longer, and he could not feel his hands anymore. He shifted carefully, but the movement sent shafts of pain all over his body. He must have broken something, somewhere. His ribs or his arms, or maybe his head.
He tried to remember what had happened. He was on the marketplace, stealing tortillas for this pretty black-eyed girl.
The girl! The memories swept him, and he gasped. Oh, now he knew what the warrior was talking about. He had tried to run away from the warriors. He'd climbed the wall, but somehow he'd fallen off of it. How? He was an excellent climber.
The clubs pounding behind his forehead and above his neck answered the question. They must have shot him with a sling, very accurately at that. Filthy bastards!
He watched the warriors as they slumbered near the entrance, throwing beans lazily, drinking from large cups. Had he only managed to cut the ties… He tried to rub his wrists against the rough wood of the wall, but every movement sent shafts of pain up his left shoulder, making him nauseous. Clenching his teeth, he shifted into a better position, then resumed the rubbing.
They would fall asleep eventually. Or maybe go away. They were clearly not guarding anything special here, not even him. Their merry laughter reached him, confirming his observation. Were they drinking pulque? Or maybe octli? Their cups contained no water, of that he was certain.
A draft of fresh night air burst into the room as the screen moved aside. The warriors sprang to their feet. Blocking the doorway, the bulky figure of a man stepped in, acknowledging the hurried murmuring of the warriors with an arrogant nod.
Kuini watched the newcomer, his stomach tightening as the man crossed the room with a long determined stride. For some time he just stood there, arms folded, legs wide apart, studying the prisoner. Kuini returned his gaze with an effort.
“What’s your name, boy?” asked the man finally, voice cold and indifferent.
He remembered the marketplace. “Mecatl.”
“Mecatl what?”
“Just Mecatl.”
The man shook his head, his lips tightening. “Where are you from?”
Kuini took a deep breath. “I don’t remember.”
“You what?”
“I don’t remember. They hit me on the head, more than once. I can’t remember. They say I did things I don’t remember too.” He stood the glare of the man, feeling suddenly lightheaded. That’s it. He would insist he did not remember anything. He has a bleeding head to present, if necessary. Let them keep assuming he was a Tepanec or whatever, just like they had back in the marketplace.
The unpleasant smile stretched the man’s lips.
“He doesn’t remember, eh?” He turned to the surrounding warriors. “Shall we refresh his memory?”
“Honorable Leader,” said the man Kuini recognized as the one who gave him the water. “He may be telling the truth. His head is cracked quite open, in several places. He may be just a boy from the city.”
The leader lifted his brows. “He may be. Or he may not be. He was the one to kidnap the First Daughter of the Second Wife.” He turned back to Kuini. “So you don’t remember, eh?”
Kuini just shook his head, his mouth too dry to form words. He saw the sandaled foot raising, and had he not been wounded and tied he would have been able to do something. As it was, the sandal crashed against his side, sending him flying back onto the floor amidst a wild outburst of pain.
He felt his teeth gritting against each other, stifling a groan. Another kick followed. He tried to pull his legs up, to curl into a ball, but his battered body just wouldn’t react. The vicious kicks reached everywhere.
A hand grabbed his hair, yanked his head up off the bloodied floor. “Well, boy, do you still have difficulty remembering?”
He clasped his lips tight. His head pushed forward, met the rough wooden tiles of the floor. The pain exploded prettily, like a colorful ball. He gagged, the taste of the blood in his mouth nauseating. A hand pulled his hair again. “Answer me!”
“Tepanecapan,” he coughed.
“What?”
“Tepanecapan. I’m from Tepanecapan. Family there.”
His hair was released at once, pushed back into the wooden floor.
“See,” said the voice above, satisfied. “A little pressure and most people will remember things.” A tip of a sandal brushed against his ribs. “Clean him some. Make him presentable for the court.”
He heard the footsteps drawing away, his body limp with relief. Luckily, he had remembered the name of that Tepanec district, he thought randomly. A strange custom. To divide a city into different parts.
***
Coyotl watched the Aztec Warlord, consumed with curiosity. The torches blinked wearily, casting their shadows across the great hall and the people feasting around low tables. It was nearing midnight, but the visitors did not indicate an inclination to break the festivities, following their leader in his merry, careless mood of enjoyment.
Coyotl shifted impatiently, standing beside the Emperor’s reed chair, bidden into the revered presence. Not to dine with the honored guests, not yet, but to listen and watch, which was more than enough for a youth of fifteen summers, even if an official heir.
He watched the Aztec sitting upon the other chair, amiable and at ease, eating heartily but hardly drinking any octli, clearly preferring to wash his food down with plenty of water. Such an imposing man. Tall and broad, the Aztec seemed to fill the room with his presence, the easy confidence spilling out of his large, well-spaced eyes, the air of arrogant self-assurance enveloping him, making one’s nerves prickle. Where had he seen eyes like that before? wondered Coyotl, watching the broad face breaking into a polite smile.
“Revered Huitzilihuitl, the Emperor of Tenochtitlan and its provinces, would be more than happy to do his best in settling the dispute between his most trusted friends and allies and the
distant Tepanecs,” the Aztec was saying. He picked another tamale stuffed with rabbit meat. “Oh, those are delicious!” he exclaimed. “Texcoco is, unarguably, the most luxurious altepetl of the Lowlands.”
Coyotl could see his father’s jaw tightening as the Emperor tried to hide his impatience. He didn’t want to discuss the luxury of his capital, and he most certainly didn’t want the Aztecs to try to settle his dispute with the Tepanecs. What he wanted was quite the opposite.
“I trust our old friends and allies would not hesitate in supporting their most faithful neighbors should the Tepanecs choose the warpath,” said the Emperor coldly. “In their gathering their forces, drawing more and more of the independent altepetls into this dispute, the Tepanecs demonstrated their warlike intentions.”
“Oh, our Revered Emperor is sure to find the way to reach a peaceful solution,” answered the Aztec, non-committal, picking another tamale. “Tezozomoc, the Tepanec Emperor, is a very old man. He is making a show of aggression, but he would not dare to invade your shores.”
“I’m afraid Revered Huitzilihuitl is underestimating the greediness of the Tepanec ruler. He would not rest until putting all the lands around our Great Lake under his crushing yoke. Is my spiritual brother, the Revered Huitzilihuitl, not weary of the Tepanec oppression? Is he still content greeting their tribute collectors every full moon? The tribute Tenochtitlan pays is not as heavy as it was forced to pay during the Revered Acamapichtli’s reign - the young Huitzilihuitl was brilliant in his ways to reduce the amount of goods required by Azcapotzalco – still, it must be an unnecessary burden. You were Revered Acamapichtli’s first Chief Warlord. How could you forget the insults of the arrogant Tepanecs?”
The Aztec’s face froze as the perpetual amusement left the broad features. “My personal history with the treacherous Tezozomoc goes deeper than the common knowledge would have. I remember the insults of the past, and my heart bleeds recalling the efforts of the most revered emperor in Tenochtitlan’s history.” The man sighed grimly. “However, Revered Huitzilihuitl is a prudent ruler. We cannot face the Tepanec Empire on the battlefield, not yet. We may win a victory or two, but we would not win this war. Tezozomoc is farsighted. Whether we like it or not, whether we are prepared to admit it, he is a brilliant leader, and his resources in supplies and manpower are enormous. Neither Tenochtitlan, nor Texcoco would be able to sustain this war to achieve a final victory.” The man shrugged. “Maybe in twenty or so summers. Maybe when Tezozomoc is dead. Tenochtitlan is working his way toward the final independence, but it does so carefully, the way the Revered Acamapichtli has done.” The penetrating gaze of the large eyes straightened, faced the Texcoco Emperor as an equal would. “I would advise your altepetl to do the same. Both of our capitals need patience.”
