The Highlander

by Zoe Saadia

  Her eyes glittered in the dim moonlight that penetrated the thick foliage. He could see the unshed tears, stubbornly held back. She was not about to cry. No, not her.

  “They will give me away soon,” she said. “That way they can get rid of me and the nuisance I've always been.”

  “Give away? What do you mean? Where?”

  “I don’t know where, but I’m sure it won’t be the place I would want to be.” She shrugged, yet did not try to take her face away from his hands, still peering at him, the enormous eyes glittering with a deep misery. “If not an appropriate ruler or emperor, then someone else, somewhere. All those noblemen are only too eager to add a princess to their collection of wives.”

  His heart twisted, remembering what Coyotl had said. She was destined for an emperor or a nobleman. But what sounded acceptable coming from his friend, looked like unnecessary cruelty, an unworthy punishment, coming off her lips. The sadness in her eyes tore at his chest.

  “It will be all right,” he said pulling her closer with no additional thought. He just wanted to comfort her.

  Yet, the feel of her body made his limbs tremble with tension; his nerves as tight as overstretched bowstrings. He saw her eyes changing. They still glittered like polished obsidian, but now there was another glow to them. Her face shone at him, surprised and expectant, the moonlight sliding down the soft curve of her cheekbones, inviting to touch it, to explore with his fingers.

  He did just that, shivering with the sensation of the smooth softness under his fingertips. Her body tensed against his, but she did not make an effort to move away. She just kept staring at him, her bottomless eyes wide open as if mesmerized.

  Her lips, slightly open, felt soft against his. The uncertainty over, he pressed her closer, oblivious to the pain around his ribs. His body seemed to behave as of its own accord, his hands seeking, lips demanding, making hers open further, not satisfied with the simple touch.

  He had kissed girls from time to time, and there was that girl who had lain with him the day before he left. Yet, never had his body been so demanding, so independent, so aware of the need. His mind, which always seemed to be controlling his actions, even in the middle of lovemaking, now just let go, went blank, gave up on any effort to control anything. His body was the one to set the tone now, commanding, claiming what was rightfully his.

  Head reeling, he felt her body reacting, clinging to his, pressing closer, her lips opening, seeking, demanding too. The world around them swayed, blurred, disappeared. There was no Palace anymore, and no large gushing altepetl outside its walls, no Great Lake and no Blue Mountain. There was nothing but the sensation of their bodies pressed against each other and their mouths exploring, seeking, demanding more.

  Their lips broke apart, but they didn’t let each other go. Breathing heavily, he stared deeply into her eyes. The sounds of the breeze and the rustling trees began to return. Shutters screeched some distance away. Muffled voices neared.

  He pressed her closer, afraid to breathe. The footsteps on the nearby path were soft and careful. His hunter's instincts told him there were three people out there, walking up the path, being careful to conceal their presence.

  His eyes warned her to keep quiet, but she seemed in no need of such a warning. She was hardly breathing at all, her body tense against his touch, like a graceful animal, long legged and strong, ready to flee at the first alarm. He knew if she ran, she’d do it as gracefully, as efficiently, as she had been when climbing the wall. The clumsy girl from the marketplace was no more.

  When the footsteps died away, they breathed again.

  “That was close,” she whispered, voice trembling with laughter, not afraid in the least.

  He watched her glittering eyes, back to her mischievous self, his disappointment vast. The magic was gone. She pulled away and busied herself with her hair, fighting the glittering pins.

  “Next time I come out to meet you, I’ll make sure my hair is free of these pins,” she said, beaming at him. “You messed up my hair.”

  He shrugged, angry, yet not understanding exactly why.

  “What’s wrong?” She came closer and peered at him, her excitement gone. “Was it the kiss? Did I kiss badly?”

  “That was the best kiss I've ever had,” he said, pulling her back, amused, his mood improving.

  She was still frowning. “You are only saying that to make me feel better.” There was a childish, petulant tone to her voice now, and it made him laugh.

  “You don’t believe me? Then let me see again.” He pulled her face up, despite her mild resistance. This time the kiss was not as breathtaking, but the sweetness was still there, making his body tremble with excitement. He felt her lips reacting, opening again. It made his head spin.

  Breathing heavily, they faced each other.

  “See?” he whispered. “It was not a bad kiss.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Will you meet me here again tomorrow night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I suppose we had better start moving back, before our captors notice that their caged birds just flew out.” But she made no effort to move away, snug in his embrace.

  “You are not a bird,” he said. “The way you climbed this wall, you would make some sort of a graceful lizard. A slender, exquisite serpent made out of gold.”

  He fought his urge to kiss her again, finding it difficult to restrain his hands from going under her blouse, the desire to explore her body overwhelming. Why wasn’t she a simple village girl, just like that girl in his hometown, who had came out and lain with him with no additional fuss. Was he to go away satisfied with a kiss only? To meet her the next night for more kisses?

  “We should go,” he said, pulling away. He busied himself re-arranging his loincloth, embarrassed under her scrutinizing gaze.

  “Have you done it with a girl before?” she asked, watching him, unabashed.

  He turned away, angry with the amused curiosity her whole being radiated. “And you?”

  “No, of course not! I haven’t kissed before either. We are not allowed to do these things.”

  He laughed. “You are doing many things that you are not allowed. Come, I’ll take you back under your window. Can you climb it up as easily?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m good at climbing. I always beat my brother to any wall or a treetop. When we were children we used to run around all the time.” She sighed. “But since he has become an official heir, he has no time for fun anymore.”

  “You must have plenty of other brothers and sisters.”

  “Not like him. I hate the rest of my family. And I hate this Palace too. I had the best time ever on the marketplace with you.”

  “I’ll take you there again, I promise,” he said, the cavity in his stomach growing.

  She turned to face him, eyes shining. “But before that, come to meet me here tomorrow, right after midnight.”

  He watched her climbing expertly, making it look like an easy feat. Her shapely shins shone in the dimming moonlight, making his heart beat faster. When she disappeared behind her window, he still stood there, his thoughts strange, rushing about.

  The moon had dimmed considerably when he reached the other side of the Palace, craving only to crawl back under that soft cotton blanket he had thrown away so impatiently some time ago. On the other side, many shutters were open, gaping darkly into the freshness of the night. He counted them, trying to remember which one he had left earlier tonight. Must be the fourth one to the left.

  When he was about to charge through the open patch of a moonlit ground, his heart missed a beat, and he froze. A silhouette moved along the wall, bending slightly, wearing only a loincloth and holding a knife, out and ready in its right palm. The man gestured and another shadow separated from the darker side of the bushes, then another.

  Kuini stopped breathing, pressing behind the thick trunk of a tree. Peeking out carefully, he saw the men crossing the moonlit patch, running hastily, making no sound. Under the window next to th
e one he was supposed to climb back, they halted, catching their breath, regrouping.

  The first man kept gesturing and one of his companions nodded, then took his knife between his teeth. Grabbing the bulging stones under the window, the man pulled himself up quickly, effortlessly. For a heartbeat he poised on the ledge, peering into the room.

  Kuini swallowed, his mouth dry. The opening in the wall had clearly led to the Aztec leader’s richly furnished room. Where the man slept alone now, his warriors guarding the entrance or sleeping in the next room. He calculated fast. He could not reach it in time, and he could not do much against the obviously well prepared group of warriors. There was only one thing to do.

  Eyes searching the ground, he rushed forward, picking up a large stone. Aiming as he ran, blessing the gods for leaving him his right arm good and useful, he hurled the stone straight through the gaping opening the moment the first man disappeared into its darkness.

  Something fell, clattering. A sound of shattering pottery filled the night. The other man, already hanging upon the ledge, turned around, startled. As the third one, still upon the ground, rushed toward him, Kuini darted back into the protective darkness of the trees.

  He didn’t run in the direction he had come from, but turned to his left as if about to circumvent the Palace from the other side. The rasping breathing of the man followed, growing nearer and nearer. He darted aside and picked up another stone. Slipping on the wet ground, he regained his balance in time to duck the thrust of a knife.

  A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder, but he twisted out of its grip and jumped aside. As the man launched himself onto him, Kuini’s right arm came out, the sharp edges of the stone he grasped hurting his palm. It smashed against the temple of his attacker, and he winced at the sharp pain the blow radiated up his arm.

  The man collapsed as if cut. Not wasting his time, Kuini fought the overwhelming urge to lean against a nearby tree. Out of breath, heart pounding insanely, he rushed back toward the Aztecs’ quarters, anxious to reach them before the inhabitants of the Palace arrived.

  He could hear noises. Many people talked excitedly as he pulled himself up the windowsill, but their voices died all at once. He didn’t have time to see what was happening. Strong hands pulled him in, slamming him against the wall. His panic welling, he fought against their pinning grip, then felt the sharp obsidian pressing against his throat.

  “Wait!” he screamed.

  Sweat rolled into his eyes, and he blinked, trying to see the broad face thrust into his view. The pressure of the knife lessened.

  “Wait for what, little brat?” rasped the familiar voice. “Eh? Wait for your friends to come and help you?”

  The face of the Aztec leader was almost unrecognizable, twisted with rage, smeared with sweat and blood, his cheekbone cut and still bleeding, his warrior’s lock askew.

  Kuini tried to stifle a cough. Unable to speak, he squirmed to ease away from the pressure of the knife, but the crushing grip upon his shoulder tightened, making his bones crack. The knife pressed harder. He could feel it nicking his skin.

  “So what do you have to say for yourself?”

  He could not get enough air, but as the room swung, the pressure lessened again.

  “Speak! What were you doing outside? Who were those people?”

  He swallowed, trying to moisten his throat to make it work. “I saw people… they were outside…” He swallowed again. “I threw the stone.”

  “What stone?”

  The pressure of the knife disappeared, and if not for the hand still crushing his shoulder, he would have collapsed to the floor, his trembling legs unable to support him.

  “The one that broke something in your room,” he whispered.

  The widely-spaced eyes narrowed. “Come with me,” said the man curtly, pulling away.

  Kuini drew a convulsive breath, then another. It took him all his strength to straighten up, to walk after the Aztec, swaying a little, but holding on. The warriors moved away, their hostile gazes following him. He could feel them staring at his back, burning his skin.

  They entered the next room and, in spite of himself, he gasped, eyeing the incredible mess of broken pottery and shattered furniture. A low table lay overturned, and a half smashed podium covered a pile of torn mats and cushions, sprinkled with blood. The walls were covered with blood too.

  Kuini’s gaze brushed past all these, lingering upon a dismembered body. His stomach turned. On the raids that he had been allowed to follow for the past two summers, he had seen dead people, had encountered skulls that had been smashed to a pulp, broken bones, opened stomachs. Yet, never a bloody mess like what he saw now. The man, or what was left of him, had been hacked into so many pieces that his flesh was literally splattered across the room.

  Gaze drifting to the obsidian sword, still clutched tightly in the broad hand of the Aztec leader, Kuini stared, awestruck. What a marvelous, lethal weapon! He swallowed, taking a deep breath.

  “Here,” the Aztec thrust a cup into his hands. “Drink.”

  He drank it, ridiculously grateful, relishing the sensation of the clear water running down his tortured throat.

  “Now tell me what happened. Why were you out there? Who were those people?”

  Kuini met the dark gaze. “I went outside earlier,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “I couldn’t sleep and I… I wanted to take a walk. Maybe to run away.” He shrugged, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “You told me I’m not a prisoner here.”

  The corner of the generous mouth lifted in a hint of a grin. “There are ways to go away. And no, those do not include running in the middle of the night or coming back with a bunch of dirty killers.” The smile disappeared. “What happened next?”

  “I came back and saw people crouching beneath your window.” He paused. “Actually, when I think of it, I saw them earlier too, passing the other wing of the Palace, the opposite one. But I didn’t pay them any attention back then.”

  “Busy doing what?” The amused twinkle was back in the depths of the large eyes.

  “Nothing.”

  “Go on.”

  Kuini took a deep breath, his throat still hurt. “I saw those people coming under your window. They were talking with signs. One went up, then the other. I threw a stone, to smash something, to wake you up. Then I ran, because the one who didn’t go in ran after me. When I got rid of him, I came back here.” He shrugged again. “Mostly because I didn’t want those Texcoco people laying their hands on me again. Without your protection, I suppose, they would still want to go on and execute me.” He slid against the wall, sitting on the floor, hugging his knees, his tiredness overwhelming.“That’s the whole story, and you can kill me if you don’t believe me. I don’t care anymore.”

  The dark gaze bore at him. “All right, kid. Rest here for a while.”

  The heavy steps disappeared, and he felt safe to shut his eyes for a heartbeat, his limbs heavy, head spinning, throat hurting. The smell of death enveloped him, penetrating his nostrils with every breath. Such a stench! He let the dizziness take him, loll him into a dreamless slumber, too tired to try to drag himself into the other room. Which was full of people who had suspected him and hated his guts anyway.

  Chapter 8

  “What is the world coming to?”

  The Emperor shook his head, reaching for a goblet that the servants rushed to fill with more octli. Sipping the spicy beverage, the heavyset man leaned back, comfortable upon his high, cushioned chair. “Despicable lowly murderers in the heart of my Palace. Difficult to comprehend!” The impenetrable gaze rested upon his guest calmly.

  “Oh, yes. I won’t deny it. Even my warriors were surprised.” The Aztec reached for his plate, his appetite obviously not corrupted by the night’s events that made the Palace agog with rumors.

  Coyotl watched both men, fascinated, marveling at his father’s calmness and the Aztec’s ominous tranquility. The foreigner - Aztec or Tepanec - sat there as imposing, as arrogant, as alw
ays, eating heartily, conversing idly, unperturbed. But for a fresh cut upon his cheek and the scratches and bruises on his upper arms and chest, clearly visible under his spotted cloak, one might assume that no killer had tried to murder him in his sleep.

  “The war with the Tepanecs will be over soon,” said the Emperor, seemingly as unperturbed. Yet Coyotl saw the dark shadows in his father’s eyes, watching the thinly clasped lips. “After we finish them off, our lives will return to their normal state.”

  “What are your sources saying?” inquired the Aztec casually, devouring another tamale. “Does Tezozomoc plan on moving his forces any time soon?”

  “He would do better coming here with no delay.” The Emperor shrugged. “Otherwise my warriors would have to spend their energy crossing the Great Lake.”

  The Aztec’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, that would be an interesting development.”

  “Indeed.” The Emperor drank more octli. “Maybe this would convince our worthwhile neighbors and allies to join our rightful war against the oppressor.”

  “It may happen,” agreed the Aztec placidly, eyes dark and unreadable. “I will relay to my Emperor your message when I reach Tenochtitlan.” He picked his cup up. “I will be sorry to leave the hospitality of your Capital.”

  “Oh, there is no need to hurry. It will take time to compose my message to my brother, the Revered Huitzilihuitl.”

  The Aztec’s eyes narrowed. “How long will it take?” he asked, a little too abruptly.

  “A few dawns, I suppose.” The Emperor’s smile was wide and amiable. Exaggeratedly so, thought Coyotl, watching his father. Oh, the Emperor longed to show the insolent Aztec. Or the Tepanec. Which one truly was this man?

  “I would never dare to hurry you, Revered Emperor,” he heard the Aztec saying. “But I planned to be on my way this afternoon.”