There'd only been one set of envoys, though. Why did so many of them look so nervous?
"Look," I said. "I need to speak with you, that's all. Work out where you're standing."
"That doesn't concern you." Manatzpa's voice was hard.
"It might," I said. "Someone is obviously trying to meddle in the succession. I wouldn't care if they had poisoned Ocome or stabbed him, or crushed his head. But they summoned a star-demon to do it, and that comes within my province." And Quenami's, and Acamapichtli's, but neither of them had made much effort to deal with that so far.
Manatzpa eyed me for a while, as if gauging my worth, but he did not move. At length he relented. "I suppose," he said. "But let's do this somewhere else, Acatl-tzin."
Manatzpa and I repaired to a smaller room in an adjacent courtyard, an almost bare affair, with only a few frescoes showing our ancestors within the seven caves of the heartland, before Huitzilpochtli sent them on their migration to found a city and an empire that would spread over the whole Fifth World.
He sat for a while, cross-legged, as impassive as a statue of a god or an obsidian mask, waiting for me to make the first move. I sat down on the other side of the reed mat. "You look like one of the most active members of the council."
Manatzpa inclined his head, gracefully. "If you mean that I view this appointment as more than a sinecure, yes." He must have seen my face, for he laughed. "Expecting more evasions? I dislike deception, Acatl-tzin."
I very much doubted that he'd risen so high on honesty alone. Teomitl was the only member of the imperial court I'd met who preferred bluntness to flattery, and while I couldn't help but like him for it, I was also aware that it made his survival at court much more difficult. "Let's say I believe you," I said. "If you're determined to be so honest, tell me this. Who do you support as Revered Speaker?"
Something like a smile lifted up the corners of Manatzpa's thin lips. "Tizoc-tzin is a weak fool. He has the support of the army's core, but not much else. He lacks the… stature to fill the role he wants to claim. The foreign princeling – Xahuia's son – he has her support and that of her followers, but he is a spoiled brat, nothing like the ruler we'd wish for.
"The She-Snake," and here Manatzpa sounded almost regretful, "he has the ambition, and the greatness within him. But it would set an uncomfortable precedent. His father refused the honour of the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown, and justly so. There is a place for the She-Snake, and one for the Revered Speaker. Male and female, violence and order-keeping; you cannot mix both."
"And the High Priests?" I asked, fascinated in spite of myself.
"We both know where Quenami stands." Manatzpa sounded amused. "Especially after tonight. You, Acatl-tzin, obviously have no ambition. " He lifted a hand to forestall any objection I might have. "Understand me, I say this as a compliment. To keep the balance is knowing your place in the order of things. I respect this."
That we could agree on, if nothing else. "And Acamapichtli?"
"Tlaloc's High Priest is also ambitious. The Storm Lord made a grab for power last year, after all. Though Acamapichtli's participation has not been proved, I wouldn't swear that he has the best interests of the Fifth World at stake."
Me neither. Last year, he had also been quite busy trying to convict my brother Neutemoc on false evidence. I'd have to speak with him, if I could keep my calm long enough to do that. Better purge the abscess before it could fester.
"So you stand for no one?" I asked. "To have no candidate–"
"Is to wish for the star-demons to walk among us, I know. But consider, Acatl-tzin. The Revered Speaker is the embodiment of Huitzilpochtli, the vessel through which the Southern Hummingbird's divine powers can spread into the Fifth World. A flawed vessel just means a flawed protection. Is that what you wish for?"
"No," I said. It was one of the reasons I couldn't wholly support Tizoc-tzin, even though I knew he had been Axayacatl-tzin's choice of heir. "But still, every day that we temporise looking for perfection…"
Manatzpa inclined his head. "Make no mistake. If I can't have what I wish for, I'll settle for a flawed vessel rather than none at all. But I'd rather try to sway the council towards a more suitable choice of candidate."
"Who?" I asked. I couldn't see any other suitable candidate, anyone who'd have the stature of a Revered Speaker.
Manatzpa looked away. "Forgive me. To name him would be pointless, since he has so little support."
I frowned. "I don't want mysterious factions within the council, Manatzpa-tzin. I need to know–"
"You need to know who killed Ocome," Manatzpa said. "I can give you my word that my candidate isn't involved in this. He couldn't have been, since he doesn't even know of my support for him."
"Your word?"
"As I said, I despise deception. I'll swear it by my face, by my heart. May I lose both if I have been deceitful."
I watched him, trying to gauge his sincerity. His eyes shone in his moon-shaped face, burning with a fire I wasn't sure how to interpret. "Fine," I said, not sure if I could believe him. "But if it comes to a point when I need his name…"
"Come back and speak with me," Manatzpa said. "I'll help you. My word."
"I see," I said. "What else can you tell me about the council?"
He appeared relieved by my change of subject, and launched into a tirade on the various members, dissecting them in small, neat sketches. He was obviously a keen observer of men, and he had had enough time to read the currents of the council.
There wasn't much to be learnt. The council was nearly evenly split between the She-Snake and Tizoc-tzin, with a few supporting Xahuia. It was a bleak picture, promising endless days of debates before a clear vote could even be reached, days during which the star-demons would grow closer and closer to us, not to mention opportunities for the summoner to call more demons to roam the palace.
"You have no influence…" I started.
Manatzpa spread his long, elegant hands on the reed mat, palms up in a gesture of powerlessness. "I'm just a man, Acatltzin. I speak for the council in matters of law, which makes my word respected. But, at times like this, it's not enough to make them remember anything but their own good."
Great. I prayed that the Duality was indeed watching over us, because the days ahead promised to be fraught and messy at best.
"And about Ocome?" I asked.
"I've told you what I knew about Ocome. Truth is," he smiled at that, "most people would have leapt at the chance to get rid of him. A vote is a vote, but one you can't trust…"
"Did anyone have a quarrel with him?" I asked. "I mean, more than usual?"
Manatzpa thought for a while. "I know the She-Snake had words with him. But then again, he had words with everyone."
Clearly, Manatzpa liked the She-Snake. I could understand his argument why he didn't want the She-Snake to claim the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown, but all the same, it must have pained him, because here he was, still trying to defend the man in spite of everything else.
I didn't trust the She-Snake, who was far too smooth and too ruthless. And I was definitely going to make sure I caught him and asked him about this quarrel with Ocome.
"I see," I said. I talked more with him, but got nothing else that was useful. "Thank you. Can you see if the other councilmen will speak with me now?"
Several hours later, I had not learnt much more. Most of the council members were of the same mould as Manatzpa, men of imperial blood bypassed by the succession and either proud of or resigned to their subservient roles.
Of the frightened ones, the only thing I was able to find out was that there had indeed been threats. The same envoys, perhaps, though they wouldn't admit to anything. Except for Manatzpa and the old magician, they seemed in fear for their lives. Hardly surprising, when one has enjoyed all their lives the riches and privileges of power without responsibility, to suddenly face that much danger must have been sobering.
The old magician was much calmer, and even his protective spells were n
owhere as powerful I'd originally thought, mainly for protection against human attacks, nothing that would stand against a star-demon or other creature.
"I grow weary of the strife," he said to me, bending to lift his bowl of chocolate.
"It's not really going to get better as time passes," I said.
He shook his head, a little sadly. "No. Men have always loved power. I've seen many things in my years, Acatl-tzin."
His name was Echichilli, and he was Master of Raining Blood, keeper of the rites and ceremonies, another watcher who made sure the balance was respected. He was a risen noble – a man who had joined the council on battle prowess and not birth – and he insisted on calling me by the honorific "tzin", even though he was my superior both in position and in years. In many ways, he reminded me of my old mentor, a man long since dead. In other circumstances, I might have been glad to call him a friend.
"I need to know what's happening," I said.
He merely shook his head again. "The Turquoise-and-Gold Crown is a powerful lure, and there are many factions."
"One of them killed Ocome."
He closed his eyes for a brief moment and his face pulled up in genuine grief. "I know. But I can't help you there, Acatl-tzin."
"Can't," I said, "because you don't know, or because you don't want to?"
He looked at me, thoughtful. "He bent the way of the wind, and made many enemies. His death isn't surprising." And that was all he would say, no matter how hard I pressed him.
It was predictable, but neither Quenami nor the She-Snake were of much use – beyond the latter's oral confirmation that he was indeed setting himself up as a potential candidate for the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown, an admission made with a shrug of his shoulders, looking me in the eye as if it was the most natural thing.
As to his quarrel with Ocome, the She-Snake admitted it in much the same careless fashion, in such an uninvolved way that, in spite of knowing how good an actor he was, I still found it very hard to believe he cared about Ocome at all – about his vote, or indeed about the man. It was as if Ocome had been too small, too petty to even register in the SheSnake's field of view.
By the time I wrapped up the last abortive interview, evening had fallen. The stars shone in the sky, larger and more luminous than the night before, an unwelcome reminder of the chaos and devastation that would lie ahead if we didn't act soon.
After a brief and very much belated meal, I was speaking with Manatzpa about possible security measures, up to and including the use of Duality spells, when the noise of a commotion reached us, loud voices and angry tones, coming from one of the nearby courtyards. Given the funereal quiet of the palace, that was surprising…
"Acatl-tzin," Manatzpa said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "You'll want to head over there."
"I don't understand…"
And then I caught a familiar voice, raised in withering anger.
Teomitl.
What in the Fifth World had he got himself embroiled into this time?
He was easy enough to find: the noise came from the Imperial Chambers, at the entrance of which had gathered a crowd of curious onlookers; noblemen made idle by the absence of the court, wearing all their jade and feather finery, a mass of protective spells jostling each other on the narrow adobe staircase leading up to the terrace.
The She-Snake and his guards were pushing them back, attempting to maintain order within the palace, but curiosity was the worst emotion to hold at bay.
Snatches of the argument drifted my way, "…as weak as a dog…", "deceived us…"
I had no idea what was going on, but obviously my place was upstairs, before Teomitl committed the irreparable.
I slashed my earlobes, muttered a brief prayer to my patron Mictlantecuhtli, and let the cold of the underworld spread like a cloak around me – the keening of ghosts, the embrace of Grandmother Earth, the descent into flowing waters, the freezing winds atop the Mountains of Obsidian and the ultimate cold, the one that seized the souls in the presence of Lord Death and His consort.
Thus armed, I pushed my way through the crowd. The protective spells hissed and faded away at my touch, and more than one nobleman grimaced as the cold, skeletal fingers of Lord Death settled on the back of their neck, a reminder of the fate that awaited them should they fail to die in battle or on the sacrificial altar.
The She-Snake nodded grimly at me as I cleared the top of the stairs, an unspoken acknowledgment that I was responsible for my student, and that this was the only reason his guards were letting me pass.
Inside, the body of Axayacatl-tzin looked intact – a relief, I had feared the worst. My priests had scattered to the corners of the room, with the pale faces of the powerless. The offering priest Palli, who had been in charge of the ritual, stood a little to the side with his hands clenched, trying to decide if he should intervene.
At the centre before the reed mat stood two men, glaring at each other like warriors about to launch into battle.
One, as was already clear, was Teomitl, with the harsh cast of the goddess Jade Skirt subtly modifying his features, and one hand already on his macuahitl sword. The other was Acamapichtli, High Priest of Tlaloc, who looked as if he'd been mauled by a jaguar, and intent on striking back. The air around him was as dense and as heavy as before a storm.
I couldn't stand Quenami, but I had to admit he had a point about the power of entrances. I released the curtain with as much force as possible, sending the silver-bells sewn in it crashing into each other, a noise that could not be ignored. Only then did I stride into the room to confront them.
They had both turned to face me with murder in their eyes. I might have shrunk before their combined might, if I had not been so angry. "What in the Fifth World do you think you're doing?" I asked, looking from one to the other. "For the Duality's sake, this room belongs to Lord Death now, for the vigil, and I won't have you desecrate it with whatever quarrel you have with each other."
"Acatl-tzin." Teomitl was quivering with contained rage. "You don't understand."
I was getting tired of that particular line. I jerked a finger in the direction of the entrance-curtain. "You have the whole palace gathered outside, wondering what all the shouting is about. And, as a matter of fact, so am I."
"He–" Teomitl started, but Acamapichtli cut him off.
"Your student," he said with freezing hauteur, "your student has just accused me of a grave crime. I cannot tolerate such groundless persecution." He looked at me as if the whole blame for that rested solely on my shoulders.
"Groundless?" Teomitl snorted. "Look at me, Acamapichtli, and tell me you don't know about the envoys."
"I sent no such people," Acamapichtli said.
I was slowly beginning to work out what this might be about, even though I wasn't sure how we had got to this place.
"Dark blue paint and heron feathers in a circle around the face," Teomitl said, with the deceptive stillness of the eagle before it swoops down. "It's an old uniform that hasn't seen service since the days of Revered Speaker Moctezuma. But my comrades have a good memory." His hand, wrapped around his obsidian-studded sword, lifted slightly, as if to draw it out. "And now I find you performing magic in this room, over my brother's corpse?"
Magic? The room appeared normal, with no trace of the faint white-and-blue which was associated with Tlaloc's spells.
"I assume there is an explanation for all this," I said, slowly.
But Acamapichtli was not going to let me play peacemaker. He lifted his chin in a supreme expression of offence. "I'm not obliged to provide any explanation."
I'd started by feeling angry at Teomitl for the wholly unsubtle approach, but by now I was beginning to understand how matters might have degenerated. Acamapichtli had a very easy way of grating on one's nerves, and Southern Hummingbird blind me if I let him get away with it.
"As a matter of fact, you do have to explain things," I said. "In the absence of goodwill from either you or Quenami, I'm the sole person res
ponsible for the keeping of the boundaries. And anyone who has been in contact with Ocome could be the key to solving his murder." A small, tentative way of soothing his wounded pride; I very much doubted it would be enough, and I was right.
Acamapichtli wrapped himself in his cloak, and strode towards the exit, not looking at me or at Teomitl. "I owe no explanation to anyone, Acatl, and least of all to you." He all but spat the name. "The Fifth World is far more resilient than you credit."
"As you would know, having tried to unseat it," I snapped, unable to contain myself.
Acamapichtli's gaze froze. I had gone too far. "I serve my god. I uphold the Fifth World's law. You won't accuse me of anything beyond that."
"You're not exactly making efforts to defend yourself."
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