Harbinger of the Storm

by Aliette de Bodard

  "So Xahuia came here," I said. "And you left?" The body had been discovered in the middle of the night, around the Hour of Lord Death; but the death could have occurred well before that.

  The guards glanced at each other. "Yes, soon after nightfall. She said she'd warn us when she was done."

  And they hadn't returned until the She-Snake sought them out, which made a good four hours unaccounted for. Four hours left unguarded.

  By their gazes, they knew they'd made a mistake; and I didn't need to tell them. I wondered how much Xahuia had offered, what riches she'd turned their heads with. And why she'd wanted them away, at all costs. What was it that she'd done, that warranted total privacy?

  The answer seemed obvious, a little too much so.

  "I see," I said.

  "About the dismissal–" the burly guard started, but the veteran cut him off.

  "There is something else you should know, my Lord."

  I wasn't quite sure if he'd addressed me or Teomitl; but Teomitl was the one who reacted fastest, inclining his head towards the man in a grave, regal fashion. The feathers of his headdress bent, like hundreds of birds bowing at the same time. "What is it?" he asked.

  "He was a man much in demand," the veteran said. His lips curled into a smirk. "Many people came to see him, the other councilmen, Tizoc-tzin, Quenami-tzin, and Acamapichtli-tzin."

  The Master of the House of Darts, and my two peers. Not much surprise here.

  "There were envoys, too," the veteran said. "They came two or three times, and they didn't look very friendly."

  "What envoys?"

  "They had blackened faces, and heron-feathers spread in a circle around their heads. It was silent inside when they came." He paused, and smiled without much amusement. "I imagined they didn't find it necessary to talk much."

  "Intimidation?" Teomitl asked. The wrath of his protector

  Jade Skirt was creeping back into his features. Had the boy learnt nothing in a year? He seemed barely able to control his powers tonight.

  "It's to be expected," I said, more dryly than I'd intended to. "Threats or rewards are the way you move the world." Even with gods – the only thing that changed were that the stakes, desires or fears had nothing in common with mortals. "When was the last time they came?"

  The veteran thought for a while. "Three, four days ago. They might have come while we weren't on guard, though."

  Odd. Why had they ceased coming? Had they got what they wanted?

  "How long ago did Ocome shift his allegiance?" I asked Teomitl.

  He made a dismissive gesture. "More than ten days ago, Acatl-tzin. That's not it."

  It didn't quite make sense. Was there yet another faction, or had one of the visitors decided to send others to intimidate instead of coming in person?

  Teomitl nodded to the veteran. "Thank you," he said. He looked at both of them, his eyes narrowing. "Which doesn't excuse the fault."

  "My lord–" the burly guard started, but the veteran shushed him.

  "I'll take it into consideration," Teomitl said. "In the meantime, you'd better think on what you've done."

  He waited until we were out of earshot to speak. "Gods, what fools."

  I didn't know why I felt moved to defend them. "You don't know what she offered them."

  "I can guess." His face was still as harsh as carved jade. "Gold, feathers, silver. They're no better than Ocome, they'd rather trample their faces and hearts than be destitute."

  "Many men would," I said, at last. As High Priest for the Dead, I oversaw inquiries into all kinds of suspicious deaths; and I knew all too well the depths to which the human soul could sink. "Not everyone has your fortitude." Or his fortune, indeed.

  "That's no excuse," Teomitl said, a trifle abruptly.

  I had seldom seen him like that; it was in moments like these that I felt much younger than him, less hardened to life at Court. I knew that his tutors at the palace had taken him back in hand since last year, but it was as if his brother's death had cracked open a shell, revealing a pearl stuck inside, so luminous and warm that it would burn whoever touched it.

  "Well, I hope it's not Xahuia," I said, as we walked out. It was evening, and the palace bustle was slowing down; the braziers' red light shone in the rising gloom. Time to find some dinner, and then head home. It had been a short day which had started late, because of the sleeplessness last night.

  "Why?" He looked puzzled. "That would finish the investigation quickly."

  "And launch us into a war with Texcoco." The Revered Speaker of Texcoco, Nezahual-tzin, had acceded his throne when young with the support of Tenochtitlan. At sixteen, he remained a beleaguered young man eager to prove himself to his detractors. If we executed his sister, he would at the very least want compensation for her death, if not use the pretext to unify his people against us.

  "We'd win the war in any case," Teomitl said. He sounded smug. "We have twice their strength, and the better men."

  "I don't think we need that kind of war on our hands right now." As usual, he thought like a warrior first and I, no matter how high I'd risen, would always think like a peasant. His numbers presumed every single able man was pulled from the fields, which would be disastrous for the harvest. Glory was all well and good but not even the warriors would have food if the harvest was not gathered.

  "Acatl-tzin." He shook his head, mildly amused. I wasn't entirely sure I liked the way his careless arrogance was turning into something much more contemptuous.

  But, then again, I knew exactly who he was borrowing from, and I'd never liked the man's arrogance.

  His brother, Tizoc-tzin, perhaps our next Revered Speaker.

  I shook my head. "In any case, we need to arrange protection for the remaining councillors." I would have done it myself, but my patron Lord Death wasn't exactly a god of protection against anything.

  Teomitl barked a short laugh. "I'm not a priest."

  "You're watched over by a goddess, though," I said, but I knew he was right.

  Teomitl looked dubious. "I'm not really sure…"

  I shook my head. "No, you're right." Any spells Teomitl worked were likely to be large and unsubtle, and shine like a beacon. They might protect, but they'd also draw unwelcome attention. "We'll offer them protection from the Duality." I was sure Ceyaxochitl wouldn't mind. She might groan and protest a little theatrically if she was in a bad mood, but she would understand the stakes.

  She always did.

  There were many feasts that night in the palace, loud and boisterous, the various candidates for the Turquoise-and-Gold crown showing their largesse and gathering their support. Teomitl, who disliked pomp, led us to the courtyard just outside his rooms, where we sat under the night sky, eating a simple meal of frogs and amaranth dough.

  Afterwards, I headed back to my house to sleep – deeply and without dreams. The trumpets of the Sacred Precincts proclaiming the return of the Fifth Sun woke me up just before dawn. I got up, dressed, and found Teomitl already waiting for me, as much at ease as if it had been his own inner quarters he was sitting in, instead of under the lone pine tree in my courtyard.

  "I could have picked you up on my way," I said.

  He smiled at me sweetly, innocently. "The palace is a dangerous place, Acatl-tzin."

  I snorted, but made no further comment.

  "Where to?"

  "The council," I said; time to see if we could get answers out of them.

  We entered the palace through the gates, where Yaotl's wards shone in the sunlight, and headed towards the state room. We were perhaps halfway to it, bypassing the House of Animals where cages held everything from webbed-foot capybaras to dazzling quetzal-birds, when someone called out.

  "Acatl!"

  It was Quenami. The High Priest of Huitzilpochtli the Southern Hummingbird appeared to have found another set of ceremonial clothes: a heavy feather headdress falling on his back, and huge plumes hanging from his belt, spread like the wings of a hummingbird. He smiled at me with patern
al condescension, never mind that he was the younger one here. "Just the man I wanted to see. Come, we need to see the council, and reassure them that nothing is wrong."

  Treating me like a peer when it suited him, not that I was surprised. "We were already on our way."

  If I'd expected to faze him, I was disappointed. "Perfect. Then let's go together."

  I hid my grimace of distaste as best as I could, and fell in step next to him. He was going to be surprised, though, if he thought what I had to say was going to reassure the council.

  We had a powerful summoner within the palace, capable of calling star-demons, and ruthlessly determined to influence the succession. Unless things went their way, I very much doubted that they would stop at the murder of one councilman.

  Our only hope was to catch them before they struck again.

  FOUR

  The Council's Quarrels

  The state room was on the ground floor, below the Revered Speaker's reception room. To reach it we crossed the courtyard, which, in daylight, was now deserted, order having presumably been restored by the She-Snake's men.

  By the noise that came through the entrance-curtain, the council was locked in a bitter discussion. I did not relish having to take part in it, but I also knew that anger made evasions more difficult. I might learn things I wouldn't have found out from clear-headed men.

  Teomitl touched my arm as Quenami lifted the entrancecurtain. "Acatl-tzin."

  "Yes?"

  "I won't be much use in here." His eyes were fierce, still lit with something close to battle-frenzy. "I'll go ask around, to see whose envoys they were. There aren't that many liveries in the palace."

  I doubted that whoever had sent the envoys would have been so transparent, but, then again, I might be surprised. Subtlety wasn't the hallmark of the nobility. They were all warriors, over-obsessed with their faces and their hearts. I nodded. Teomitl straightened up in a brief salute, and strode away.

  Lucky man. I'd have given much not to have to face the whole council. With a sigh, I followed Quenami inside.

  Like the reception room, the state room had been calculated to impress, painted with rich frescoes of Huitzilpochtli striding forth on the battlefield, holding four spears in His left hand, and a reed shield in His right. The Southern Hummingbird's face, arms and legs were painted the deep blue of imperial tunics, and a huge eagle hovered over Him, its wings spread out over the whole of the Heavens.

  The council sat on reed mats spread around the room. In the centre was a light lunch of maize wraps with mushrooms and frogs.

  They were all men, most of middle age or older. One of them in particular looked old enough to have seen the founding of the Triple Alliance. He sat like a king, wrapped in intricate magical protections that clung tight to his body. No doubt he was the council's leader in magic, if not in politics.

  Tizoc-tzin was still nowhere to be see, but furthest away from the entrance was the She-Snake, engaged in what looked like a heated debate with his neighbour, a middle-aged man with a round face and traits reminiscent of an older Teomitl.

  Quenami released the entrance-curtain. Whatever I thought about the son of a dog, I had to at least admit that his sense of timing was impeccable. The bells jangled and jarred against each other, and every gaze in the room turned towards us.

  "Ah, the High Priests," the She-Snake said. He gestured towards us. "Why don't you sit down and join us?"

  "I think not." Quenami's voice was as cutting as cold obsidian. "We're not here to pour chillies on the fire."

  "Are you not?" The She-Snake's voice was measured and pleasant, much in the same way that the song of an ahuizotl waterbeast was pleasant; a prelude to being dragged down, drowned and torn apart. "You're not part of this council, Quenami."

  Quenami did not give ground. "I stand for Huitzilpochtli, and you would do well to remember it."

  The She-Snake raised an eyebrow. "So do I. Have you forgotten? In the absence of the Revered Speaker, the She-Snake is the ruler of the land. If it helps make the point, I'll start eating behind a golden screen, and forbid any man to look me in the eye. Though I'd prefer not, it would be unseemly."

  During his speech, I'd been surreptitiously looking at the council, trying to gauge their mood. They sat unmoving, their gazes alternating between the She-Snake and Quenami. The overall atmosphere was tense, far too tense. Several of them were sweating, as if in fear for their lives. No wonder, with a summoner of star-demons loose in the palace.

  Quenami glared at the She-Snake, obviously preparing a withering response. "Look," I started, at the same time as the She-Snake's neighbour, the round-faced man, got up.

  "I don't think this petty quarrel is the reason you came here," he said, and he was looking straight at me. Now that my attention was focused on him, I could remember seeing him several times at Court. His name was Manatzpa, a brother of Axayacatl-tzin's father, making him therefore Teomitl's and Tizoc-tzin's uncle. He was Master of the Worm on the Maize Blade, among his duties was the collection of the tribute from the conquered provinces.

  I shook my head. "I came with questions. As you all know, there has been a death in the palace tonight."

  Several members shifted uncomfortably. Manatzpa nodded. "Ocome. Not a popular man."

  "I take it you didn't like him?" I asked him, bluntly. He sounded congenial enough, and I doubted he'd be vexed by my honesty.

  "None of us did. But I, no." Manatzpa smiled. "You'll discover soon enough that I threatened to dismiss him from the council."

  "Something you had no right to do." Quenami's face was filled with self-righteous outrage.

  "Oh, Quenami," the She-Snake said with a shake of his head. "You're far too concerned with propriety."

  "Propriety?" Quenami drew himself to his full height. "You speak of the rites of Huitzilpochtli? They have kept us alive. They have allowed us to survive She of the Silver Bells, and a century of migration in the marshes. They will allow us to survive those shadowed days, if we're willing to follow them."

  More than a few council members looked embarrassed. Quenami, as subtly as ever, had reminded them that, in the first days of the Mexica Empire, the Revered Speaker had chosen his heir before his death, and the council's role had only been to approve that choice. By that logic, Tizoc-tzin should have been elected Revered Speaker without much fuss. But, over the years, the councilmen had gained influence and prerogatives, and now they would not be content with merely confirming Axayacatl-tzin's opinion.

  Well, at least I knew exactly where Quenami stood. Not that I was surprised, since Tizoc-tzin had appointed him in the first place.

  Manatzpa's face had turned smooth, unreadable. "Believe me, the last thing we want is chaos, Quenami-tzin." He turned again towards me. "Acatl-tzin, I imagine you still have questions?"

  If glances could kill, Quenami would have struck me dead on the spot. Then again, the man had asked me to come with him, so he had only himself to blame.

  "Yes. You said you had tried to get Ocome dismissed from the council. Why?"

  "Oh, come, Acatl." Manatzpa smiled. "By now, you must know what Ocome was like. He was a liability to this council. His only use was as an indicator of which direction the Fifth Sun would shine. We're the high council, not stalks bending to the slightest breath of wind. He made us all a disgrace."

  I could see his colleagues as he spoke, several of them nodding to the rhythm of his words, others carefully unreadable. Very few people seemed to disagree outright.

  It looked like I was not going to lack suspects.

  "It's hardly a reason to commit murder, though," Manatzpa said. "There are more civilised ways to solve our quarrels."

  "Even when precedents aren't on your side?" This from Quenami, who had obviously not forgotten his curt dismissal.

  Manatzpa did not even bother looking at him. "Not everyone considers death a viable solution. Believe me, if I'd really wanted him out of this council, I'd have found a way. Enough pressure in the right places…"


  "Such as envoys?" I asked.

  Manatzpa looked puzzled. "I don't understand what you mean."

  "Someone sent envoys to Ocome regularly," I said. "With threats, in all likelihood. And the chances are it's someone in this room."

  Or Tizoc-tzin, or Acamapichtli, or Xahuia, the princess from Texcoco. But I didn't say that aloud. I just watched them. Several members of the council were looking distinctly uncomfortable, bearing the waxy hue typical of guilty men.