by Clare Bell
Armbands, wristlets, belts, sashes, headbands; anything made of jaguar skin, fur, teeth or bone came to life with startling ferocity, attacking the privileged wearer. Carved combs buried themselves in scalps and drew blood before they were jerked out and flung down. Belts and sashes were wrenched off and thrown as if they had become rattlesnakes. And even the unlucky noble who had taken a pinch of ground jaguar bone as a preventative to poison experienced a raging commotion in his guts which was relieved only when the man vomited and expelled the rebellious powder.
Panic washed through the crowd like a flood. The sensitive hairs in the jaguar’s ears trembled to a strange noise that grew like thunder. It was the sound of thousands of people falling on their knees, moaning in terror before a new and angry god.
The jaguar stood watching as the gesture rippled through the crowd. It began on the pyramid, in the area surrounding her, but quickly spread down the stairs into the plaza until the entire crowd was huddled on its knees.
Someone said a name and it was picked up and spread.
“Tepeyolotli! Heart-of-the-Mountain!”
It grew from a whisper to a mutter and then to a moaned supplication.
“Tepeyolotli!”
Whether or not the jaguar wished it, to these people she was divine.
She had a strong urge to flee, to gallop down the stairs, away from the groveling mass, and free herself from the terrified adulation that now seized them as strongly as had bloodlust. It was a mockery, a charade. She was no goddess. Yet if she abandoned them now, disappearing into the city as her conscience urged her to do, she would abandon her companions and lose a chance that might never come again. If the new deity deserted her worshippers, they would turn, with renewed intensity, back to the old god and the old ways.
The jaguar looked out over the crowd. Thousands of bare or cloak-draped backs formed a huge tapestry of humility that now covered the pyramid. Underfoot she trod all the objects of jaguar bone, hide and teeth that they had cast off in their terrified frenzy.
Wise Coyote still stood upright amid an ocean of crouching, praying people.
“Hummingbird’s rule is over!” he shouted. “People of Tenochtitlan, a new power has risen, a true divinity. You have no need for idols of painted wood now that Heart-of-the-Mountain walks among you!”
“Heart-of-the-Mountain,” the crowd intoned, dread and hope mixed in their voices.
She felt a flash of anger at Wise Coyote for seizing the situation and pushing her into a role that she did not want. Yet she could see that he had little choice. He had to master the crowd and take control away from Ilhuicamina.
I will play the goddess now, but there will be a reckoning later.
A short distance away. Six-Wind knelt, supporting Nine-Lizard. Their guards had fled.
She saw the old man’s limbs move and his chest heave as he drew breath. A part of her sighed in relief that his attempt at transformation had not cost his life.
Tail swinging, she approached Wise Coyote. A wave of tension swept through the crowd. She sensed their fears and their secret hopes. Would Tepeyolotli show herself to be as arbitrary and bloody as Hummingbird by savaging the man who stood up on the temple steps, as if defying her? Even Wise Coyote did not know what she would do, for he had seen her snarling at the people in the crowd. She could smell his uncertainty.
She wished that the jaguar lips and tongue had the ability to form words so that she could sooth the nervousness that danced in his eyes. She heard and saw him whisper her old name and longed to tell him that she still knew it.
She looked up at him, trying to make the cat eyes carry the message and warmth of recognition that her human gaze had been able to do. And, somehow, either she reached him or he took a leap of faith, for he cast aside the dagger hidden in his loincloth and came to her.
The crowd took a long, indrawn breath as the king and the jaguar met on the pyramid steps. He extended the back of his hand. She licked it, raising her tail. She could feel his growing confidence as he caressed her head and the crowd let out their breaths again in a long sigh.
Tepeyolotli had chosen her consort.
She stood beside the king of Texcoco as he spoke to the crowd. He was living his dream of ending Hummingbird’s tyranny. The stained altar and tiles would be scrubbed clean, he said, for no more victims would die. The burden of blood demand and endless war would be lifted.
A figure moved against the sun. The only other man still standing. Ilhuicamina.
The jaguar spun around.
The Aztec stood with a spear set into a spearthrower, ready to cast it. He was backlit by the sun, brilliance glowing about his outline, as if he too had revealed divinity. She could not tell if he aimed the spear at her or Wise Coyote. In the white sun glare, she could not see his face or his features, but his scent spoke of the deadly terror that filled him.
Trepidation filled her as well, for she had already been hit once by a spear. A glancing blow, but one that showed she was vulnerable. She reached, almost instinctively, for the jaguar skin he had worn before, but it was gone, thrown aside.
Her ears flattened, her tail began to lash. One swift rush up the steps and she would be on him before the cast spear could reach her. Her nose wrinkled, her lips pulled back, baring her fangs. One swift rush and pounce and she would feed the meat-hunger growing in her belly as well as the revenge-hunger growing in her mind.
Kill him, came the demand, beating in her mind. It came also from the onlooking crowd, whose smell in her nostrils spoke of anticipation of a new sacrifice, despite the message they had heard. Kill him, came the message in Wise Coyote’s scent. End the savagery of the Aztec Empire and the threat to Texcoco.
The jaguar circled her chosen victim, feeling her eyes bum, her muscles grow taut with anticipation. This was what she wanted. It was good. It was right.
The spearpoint followed her as she circled. Now Ilhuicamina was no longer bathed in the sun’s halo. She could see his face, gray-white in her cat vision, beads of blood like black jewels on his wounds.
With a roar she lunged. The spear shot overhead, clattered uselessly on the steps. With a shriek, Ilhuicamina turned and fled, scrambling up the pyramid steps with a speed given by mortal fear. Feeling the fever of the chase rise in her, the jaguar bounded after her prey.
23
AS THE JAGUAR pursued the Aztec king, she saw that no man among the many huddling on the temple steps moved to aid him. Even the high priests and officials only watched, fearful of the new god and hungry for a new sacrifice.
Ilhuicamina reached the top step and was fleeing into the temple containing the image of Hummingbird when the jaguar brought him down. Her claws caught and tore the feathered cloak on his shoulders, sinking into the flesh beneath. He fell, striking his head on the lava urn where the offered hearts were burned, and rolled limply across the stain-darkened tile.
With a surge of triumph she pounced on him, tongue and jaws aching for the feel of flesh yielding to her teeth.
And then she saw a shadow across the body that made her look up. The image of Hummingbird loomed above. In her jaguar sight, the color was drained from it, leaving only grays, whites and pale blues. The god rose like a pale triumphant ghost over her and Hummingbird’s cruel mouth seemed to grin, as if he knew that when she ate, he would be fed.
The shock of that realization seemed to cast the jaguar into another world, one where Ilhuicamina lay as a sacrifice. bent back over the altar. Above her, face twisted and mocking, stood the image of Hummingbird. He was no longer wood and paint but a malevolent, hungering being. Hummingbird had become the real god and she his servant, slaying yet another sacrifice in the endless line of victims…
No!
The jaguar staggered back from her prey as if she had been struck. The blood from Ilhuicamina’s wounds cast a scent that intoxicated her, but she resisted it, wrenching her head from side to side as if fighting a noose that had been thrown and tightened about her neck.
Sandals s
lapped on tile, making her start. Her ears twitched back, men she recognized Wise Coyote as he entered Hummingbird’s shrine. He looked down at Ilhuicamina with an expression of grim triumph, as if he expected the body to be lifeless.
Then he came closer and with a gasp of surprise dropped down on his knees beside the Aztec. Quickly he rolled the man over, wiped away the blood from many gashes about the face and shoulders. Almost reverently he touched the chest that still rose and fell.
Bewildered, he stared at the jaguar. “I thought you would kill him,” he whispered.
I could not, she thought, wishing she could speak. With alarm, she saw Wise Coyote pluck a dagger from the band of Ilhuicamina’s loincloth. His face hardened. Holding the haft in his fist, he raised the blade over the Aztec’s throat.
As she started to growl, Ilhuicamina’s eyelids fluttered. Wise Coyote made an abortive stab downward, then bit his lip and lowered the weapon.
“Help me,” the Aztec moaned, his head lolling. Then his eyes opened and he stared up at Wise Coyote. “You were once my friend. Help me, please.”
The jaguar came and crouched beside the king of Texcoco. Gently but firmly she fastened her teeth on the dagger and drew it from his grasp.
If you make me a goddess, then this temple is mine. I will not allow any more blood to be spilled within it.
Ilhuicamina had caught sight of her. His eyes went glassy and his lips trembled so that he could barely form words. “That…that…”
“That is your savior,” said Wise Coyote, and she heard a trace of irony in his voice. He made a hand motion at the jaguar, silently asking her to back off. She obeyed, taking the dagger with her.
In a chamber inside Ilhuicamina’s palace, the jaguar lay in a corner, looking down at herself. In front of her lay her massive paws, now veleveted. She raised one and licked it, exploring the shape and feel of her pads with her sensitive tongue. Craning her head over her shoulder, she gazed at the sweep of thick gold rosette-dotted fur that swept over her back, down her ribs and over her crouching hindquarters. She brought the tip of her tail around and examined it closely before it twitched out of her paws. Playfully she swatted it, then lay back and yawned.
Laying her head on her paws, she stared at the seat that had been prepared for her in the center of the room. It was a wicker frame heaped with cushions, surrounded by braziers that stood on tripods, fire flickering inside them. All around were spread objects of gold and silver, rich cloaks of quetzal feathers and bowls heaped with precious stones.
It might be a fine seat for a goddess, but the jaguar had found it uncomfortable. She had perched there while priests and officials had brought in the gifts, but once the ceremony was over, she had retreated to the comer. The smoky smell of the braziers bothered her and the glint of flame on polished gold pained her sensitive eyes.
Amid all the fuss and pomp, no one had thought to provide her with what she really needed; a bowl of water, some fresh meat and…
The door flap to the chamber was pulled aside and Wise Coyote entered. She saw him stop and shake his head at the sight of the ornate luxury piled up before Tepeyolotli’s empty throne.
“Mixcatl,” he called softly.
It wasn’t until he called a second time that she recognized the name and got up. She felt oddly distanced from the part of herself that had once been called Mixcatl. With a grunt and a disgusted look at the useless finery, she padded to Wise Coyote.
He ran a hand along her back and scratched her behind the ears. She licked his hand, enjoying the salt taste, but it made her thirsty. She grimaced and lolled her tongue out.
Wise Coyote walked to the chamber entrance, summoned a servant and spoke briefly to the man before sending him away. The conversation was a meaningless buzz in the jaguar’s ears. She knew that if she really tried, she could understand, but she did not want to make the effort. Restless and resentful at being confined, she paced back and forth. Glancing at Wise Coyote, she gave him a jaguar scowl.
“You are lucky that you did not end up on display in the priests’ quarters. They had a special room prepared for you and facilities for your anticipated throngs of worshippers. It was all I could do to persuade them to keep you here in the palace.”
She halted in her pacing, feeling a sensation that meant that she needed to relieve herself. Squatting, she raised her tail without even thinking about it. Only when the warm flow of urine trickled to an end did she notice Wise Coyote’s grimace and felt a belated embarrassment.
“If I had known you were going to do that, I would have taken you outside,” he grumbled.
Ignoring him, she sniffed the puddle. It didn’t smell offensive to her, but she remembered that creatures like Wise Coyote did not appreciate such pungent aromas. She grunted and made scraping motions with her paw. The instinct in her made her want to bury the offending evidence, even though she could see clearly that there was a tiled floor and no dirt. She whined and shook her head, perplexed.
Wise Coyote glanced around the room. “Those idiot priests forgot to give you a basket of sand. They are so used to dealing with divine needs that they cannot cope with real ones.”
The servant returned to the room, bearing a tray. From it Wise Coyote plucked the dish of water and the platter of raw venison, set them down on the floor and quickly escorted the servant out. Again the jaguar heard the buzz of voices, but the scent of raw venison wafting to her nostrils stole her attention. She lunged, grabbed and swallowed before she really even tasted the food. With her front fangs, she took more, backing away from the platter and holding the meat between her forepaws as she sliced it with her side teeth.
“Easy,” said Wise Coyote, putting his hand down on her muzzle. “Nine-Lizard said that if you eat too much of that and then change, you will have a terrible bellyache.”
The jaguar’s ears flicked in irritation, for the demands of her belly were still strong. The more sensible part of her mind understood that Wise Coyote was probably right. She sighed, exhaling a long breath. There were so many things to learn about a life where one could exist as a human or an animal.
Servants brought in a large shallow basket filled with sandy soil and set it down where Wise Coyote directed. One also used a small wooden trowel to spade sand over the urine puddle, then scooped up the damp sand and dumped it back in the basket.
When they had gone. Wise Coyote said, “Nine-lizard is relaxing. The palace healers have told me he will be fine—he just needs rest.”
Although part of the jaguar’s mind was concerned about Nine-lizard and the other things that Wise Coyote had to say, she found herself growing restless and the words kept turning to meaningless buzzing. Abruptly she got up and walked away.
“Mixcatl?” He frowned. “Are you…all right?”
She sat down and scratched herself, feeling grumpy and short-tempered. She was fed up with all this fuss and chatter. She wanted to curl up somewhere and have a long nap.
“You are tired. I think you are probably going to change back again and Nine-Lizard said that it would be best if that happened while you were asleep.”
She shook her head. No. It was fun being a jaguar. At least it had been. She yawned, feeling the sides of her mouth stretch. She didn’t want to change back. Well, maybe she did. She wanted to talk to Nine-Lizard and make sure that he was all right. And there was someone else that she needed to see. A young man’s face came into her mind, followed by a warm feeling of affection. Yes. Someone she loved. Someone she needed to see. Huetzin.
For an instant she felt ashamed that all thoughts of the young sculptor had slipped from her mind. Perhaps she was so convinced that she had wounded him that she could not bear to think of him. And then, after Wise Coyote had confessed and lifted the guilt from her, there had been too many distractions, the least of which was her transformation.
I must see him. I know that Wise Coyote will tell him the truth now, but I must also be there.
The misty light of early morning leaked through Mixcatl’s
closed eyelids. She knew, even before she was fully awake, that she had changed shape once again. This time the reverse transformation had been much easier and she had slept through it. As she opened her eyes, the blushing colors of sunrise streaming in her window made her blink in wonder. The jaguar had little ability to see colors, especially reds and oranges, but to renewed human vision, those hues were intense.
She yawned and stretched, exploring the other changes in her senses. Her sense of smell was lessened, although still strong. Her stomach felt a little unsettled and she recalled what Wise Coyote had said about eating too much raw meat before returning to human form.
With a start, she realized that she was no longer in the chamber where she had fallen asleep as a jaguar. Someone had covered her with a mantle and had clean clothes laid nearby.
“Good morning,” said a familiar voice. Wise Coyote came through a nearby doorhanging. Mixcatl realized that she was in his quarters.
“I thought it prudent to move you in here. The palace servants have enough amusement without being able to watch Tepeyolotli become an unclothed young woman.”
Mixcatl imagined what that might have been like and felt grateful that he had moved her. He left the room, giving her privacy to dress.
As she reached for her huipil blouse and wraparound skirt, her hands and arms felt strange after having been a great cat’s forelimbs. She wiggled her fingers, glad to have them back. With a twinge of regret, she saw that all her gold and spotted fur had fallen off, making a nest about her as she slept.
