Jaguar Princess

by Clare Bell

  He drew his son forward. For an instant Huetzin resisted, then he let Wise Coyote embrace him. The king wept in great hoarse sobs, his shoulders heaving. Huetzin, his emotions numbed by shock, sat stiffly, eyes closed.

  Mixcatl approached them and put a hand on each. How different yet how alike the two men were, each striving with intensity to reach for something above themselves; Wise Coyote in his search for true divinity and Huetzin in the working of his art. Because of that, they were both terribly vulnerable. She realized that she had indeed loved them both. Love for Huetzin had been easy and open. What she felt for Wise Coyote was mixed up with many more emotions and clouded with doubt, but she could not deny the love.

  When Wise Coyote’s storm of grief was over, he drew away. “Huetzin,” he said, his voice husky. “You may never forgive me. I accept that. I ask only that you believe in yourself. You will heal and you will sculpt again.”

  “Please go now,” Huetzin said softly to his father without opening his eyes.

  With a last glance at his son, Wise Coyote rose and left the chamber.

  Mixcatl wanted to go after him, but she knew Huetzin needed her more. When he reached for her hand, she gave it, and when he pulled her close, she came.

  “You are not afraid to be alone with me?” she asked, surprised by his trust.

  “No, not any longer,” he murmured. “My sweet tile-painter, I have longed for you, but I dared not see you. I feared that you might become the beast again.”

  “Even when I was, I did not harm you. I will never harm you.” She put her arms around Huetzin, cradling his head against her breast. “Does it help to know that?”

  “Yes. Even though it was my father who…” He choked, unable to finish.

  “Do not think about it now,” she said gently and held him in silence.

  After a while he said, “Mixcatl, I have your tile with me. The one you painted with the dock leaf. It is wrapped up in cloth, over by the healers’ bundles.” He faltered, then managed a faint smile. “I have kept it with me. Looking at it helped me through the worst days. Do you want to see it again?”

  “No, not now, although I am glad that it gave you comfort.”

  That Huetzin would stay with her alone in this room even after he knew what she was lifted her spirits. She knew that he was far from complete understanding and acceptance; she herself had barely begun to understand what her heritage meant.

  She thought of her tile painting. Even though he could not understand the work, he had recognized its value, even though it was something far outside the limits that either one of them knew.

  If he understood and accepted the painting, could he do the same with its maker? Could he overcome the memory of seeing her in the agonizing transition? Even if he did, what would happen if she changed shape in front of him? It was true that now that she had better control, the transition was far shorter than it had been, but even so…

  Gently she pulled free of his embrace, picked up the jaguar-shaman statuette that she had placed to one side and gave it to him. In answer to his questioning look, she said, “You saw this statue before, in Tezcotzinco. I brought it here to try and explain…” She trailed off, finding it difficult to speak. “Even with it, I find I have no words…to…tell you what I really am.”

  She saw him swallow and knew that he was remembering the skin-stripped apparition that had run at him out of the night.

  “You will not have to endure the sight of me as that,” she said quickly. “The change comes rapidly enough now so that stage is very brief.”

  “So you have actually transformed completely into a great cat,” Huetzin said.

  “Well, I feel as though I have become one and all the people around me react as if I were. If it is a delusion or madness, I do not know the difference.”

  “I suppose I will soon see for myself,” Huetzin answered.

  Mixcatl shook her head. “No. It is one thing to hear such a thing described and quite another to face it. I would not want to scare you into another faint, nor have you turn away because you cannot bear it.”

  “But if you cannot control when you change…,” Huetzin started.

  “I have better control now, but it is not complete. I need training or someone else might be injured because of me.”

  “I do not want you to go away, Mixcatl.” Huetzin pulled her close into an embrace that was made clumsy by his bandaged right hand. “No one else could have brought me out of the dark I cast myself into. Even if you are this,” he tapped the statue, “I will still care for you.”

  As she felt his hands cradling her against his breast, she felt a great rush of warmth and hope. She wanted to stay with him always and feel like this. But she felt the statue that had become pressed between the two of them and knew that she could not accept any man as a partner until her gift was no longer a danger or temptation to those about her.

  “What is it like, being a jaguar?” Huetzin’s voice startled her out of her reverie.

  “Strange, confusing, funny and sometimes embarrassing,” she said thoughtfully, then couldn’t help a giggle as she remembered what happened in Tepeyolotli’s throne room.

  “Tell me,” he coaxed. She did and soon both of them were chuckling.

  She ended by saying, “That is just a silly example, but it shows that I need to handle myself better. There are people who can teach me.”

  “Are they all jaguars and do they piss on palace floors when they aren’t thinking?” Huetzin asked, sending Mixcatl off into a fit of laughter.

  “I do not know. I need to find out more. Perhaps when things here settle down, I can go to them.”

  Huetzin tried to stifle a yawn. Mixcatl could see that he was growing tired. She told him to lie down and got him a cushion for his head. Soon he grew drowsy.

  “There is a rumor that Ilhuicamina has stopped the mass sacrifices,” he said sleepily.

  “It is true.”

  “That is what my father wanted. I am glad that he has it.” He closed his eyes again. Soon he was breathing regularly in a deep slumber.

  I wish I could do more for him, Mixcatl thought. He is still hurting from two losses—his hand and the knowledge of his father’s betrayal. It will take much time for those wounds to heal. At least I am here and I will stay as long as I can.

  She stayed with him until the healers returned, then left him in their care and quietly departed from the room.

  On her way back to her quarters, Mixcatl was startled when she was hailed by someone in the dress of a temple servant. She eyed him doubtfully, remembering her experiences with the priests of Hummingbird and their retainers. Even though the priesthood had been given over to the worship of Tepeyolotli, she felt uneasy when any of them approached.

  The servant prostrated himself before Mixcatl, which made her feel more uncomfortable than ever.

  “Seven-Flower Mixcatl, honored lady and vessel of the divine Tepeyolotli, a message has come for you.”

  “A message? Who sent it?”

  “This humble piece of earth does not know, sacred one. It was given to the king of Texcoco and he awaits you in his chambers.”

  Without waiting for the servant to rise, she hurried down the hallway to Wise Coyote’s quarters. There she found him gazing with undisguised curiosity at a bound document that lay on a low table. She noticed that he had also restrained himself from opening it until she arrived.

  Carefully she picked up the document. It was much less bulky than anything she had seen before, though it retained the general shape and the fan-fold design. It was about half the size of Wise Coyote’s books, with only three thin, fine pages. On the outside her calendar name was written in standard Aztec glyphs—seven round dots and an iconographic flower.

  She undid the cord and unfolded the document, then stared at the first page, puzzled. The pictographic script inside was one entirely unfamiliar to her.

  “What is wrong?” Wise Coyote asked.

  “Can you read this?” She showed him the
page, watched him study it, frowning.

  “This is more complex than anything I have seen before. I can decipher a few simple glyphs, but the rest, no.”

  “Who would send me a message I cannot read?” Mixcatl asked, baffled.

  Wise Coyote looked up from the elaborate curls and forms of the strange glyphs. “I think Nine-lizard may be able to decipher this,” he said, giving it back to her.

  Mixcatl shook her head doubtfully, but the king was already striding toward the door. Holding the odd document, she followed him to Nine-lizard’s quarters.

  She began to feel guilty. Various duties and distractions had kept her from seeing very much of the old scribe. He had also spent much time asleep, recovering from his failed transformation. Wise Coyote had also said that Nine-Lizard had helped to tend her during her reverse change. All that had probably taken much out of him and she had not said or done anything in return.

  When she slipped through a doorhanging that Wise Coyote held aside, she saw a raised pallet, and on it, the old slave-scribe. She was relieved to see that he was sitting up and eating beans rolled in a tortilla, although there was a certain fragility and paleness about him that she had not seen before.

  When he saw her, he put aside the remains of his meal and held out his arms. Mixcatl came into his bony embrace. “Child, I feared that my failure had destroyed everything, but you did what I could not.”

  “You did all you could,” Mixcatl answered softly. “I would not call that a failure.”

  Over her shoulder, she heard Wise Coyote say, “Nine-lizard, in that moment on the temple steps, you gave more than any man could expect. I know that you risked losing much more than just your life when you attempted the change. Perhaps it is better that you could not sustain it, otherwise you would have been lost to us.” He paused and added, “It is not a choice most men could have made. Honor yourself for it.”

  The lines in Nine-Lizard’s face seemed to relax as he looked up at the king of Texcoco. “Thank you, tlatoani. My attempt may have been worthwhile if it aided you in bringing down Hummingbird. Also if Mixcatl can get the training she needs from the Jaguar’s Children.”

  “That is what we have come to see you about. We have received a message that might be from them. Do you recognize the script?” Wise Coyote asked as Mixcatl unbound the document and put it into Nine-Lizard’s veined hands.

  “Yes. It is the writing I learned in my youth. Be patient, for it will take me a little time to recall how to interpret it.”

  Mixcatl leaned forward in anticipation as Nine-lizard peered at the document and muttered to himself.

  “Here, I will summarize it for you,” said Nine-Lizard when he had completed his reading. “It is from the Jaguar’s Children. With all the flowery language deleted, it says:

  “To Seven-Flower Mixcatl: We rejoice at the changes now taking place in Tenochtitlan and wish to honor your part in them. Although the events occurred in a manner we did not expect and cannot entirely condone, we acknowledge the good that has been done by ending the religious excesses of the Aztec state.

  “We understand why you had to abandon the escort taking you to our settlement. However, your youth and the strength of your power makes it important that your instruction not be delayed any more than necessary. We can either send someone to instruct you or have you come to us. The latter would be a better alternative, but we recognize that your situation may not allow you to do so.

  “To this end, we invite you to meet again with our emissary on the auspicious day of One-Jaguar of the next month in the city of Texcoco. Nine-Lizard Iguana Tongue and Wise Coyote of Texcoco are the only others to be included. We await your response.”

  The old man slowly lowered the document, a stunned look on his face. “They are inviting me to come with you? I cannot believe it.”

  Mixcatl found her voice. “Of course you are coming. We will all go together. Nine-Lizard, can you write in this script?”

  When the old man said that he would try. Wise Coyote requisitioned paints, brushes and several small pages suitable for a reply. They sat together on Nine-Lizard’s pallet while she dictated and Nine-Lizard alternately scratched his head, bit the end of his brush and carefully made the very difficult glyphs that he had known in his youth.

  “There,” he said at last, when the message was complete and the document left to dry. “I will take care of sending it. Now, with due respect. Wise Coyote, I am still very tired, so if you both would not mind…”

  Mixcatl gave him one last hug and then left with the king.

  Later that day, she went with Wise Coyote on a palace balcony that overlooked the city. All about them Tenochtitlan spread out, gleaming in the strong afternoon sunlight. In the distance. Lake Texcoco glimmered.

  Wise Coyote rested his elbows on the carved parapet edge. The afternoon wand off the lake blew strands of hair from his face and made his cloak billow.

  “I never wanted to admit that this city can be beautiful.” he said, “but today it is.”

  Mixcatl shook back her own hair. “Sometimes this all feels like a dream.”

  “Or a nightmare, when I look at Huetzin.” Wise Coyote sighed deeply.

  Struck by the pain in his face, Mixcatl tried to offer comfort. “Tlatoani, I know that it hurt when he asked you to leave, but do not take it as rejection. He needs time to come to terms with what has happened.”

  “Do you think he will ever sculpt again?” Wise Coyote’s anxious gaze turned to her.

  “I think his spirit has been wounded more badly than his hand. If he can be encouraged to try, he will regain the skill.”

  “Then you can do more for him than the healers. You can use the gift of art you share with him. Creating beauty can be healing in itself, I have found.”

  “That is so,” answered Mixcatl, “but the road back for him will be long and slow.” She hesitated. “Tlatoani, I may not be able to remain here. When we meet with the Jaguar’s Children, they will offer me training. I know that you need me as Tepeyolotli and I want to stay by Huetzin, but I must learn to control my gift. Otherwise I could harm someone else.”

  Wise Coyote stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We have some time before we meet with their emissary.”

  “I do not know how long I would be gone. How could you manage?”

  “Without Tepeyolotli? Well, considering that most gods never do show themselves to their worshippers and yet attract a devoted following, I believe it can be done. I am starting to assemble a group of men who wish to see their state take a different path than that of blood and fire.” The king paused. “I might need to recall you if Ilhuicamina becomes balky, but that is the only difficulty I can foresee.”

  “I would agree to that, although I do not know about the Jaguar’s Children.”

  “I imagine that we will have to do some negotiation, which is a skill at which I have some ability. It will be…interesting to finally meet these people.” He paused, eyed Mixcatl and asked, “How do you feel about returning to your own tribe?”

  She felt a shiver of excitement mixed with anxiety. What would the People of the Jaguar be like? How did they live? How would they think of her? How would they judge her? The message had said they had mixed feelings about what she had done, although they approved of the result.

  “I do not know,” she said at last. “It would be easier if I were not faced with leaving you and Huetzin in order to be trained.”

  “You were taken from your family. You never knew any parents. I would find it astonishing if you were not excited by the prospect. You may even have surviving relatives among them.”

  “I might. I never thought about that. Or, perhaps I never wanted to think about that because there was little chance that I would see them.” She felt the shiver up her back again and then a surge of impatience. How could she bear to wait for the meeting? “So many changes, tlatoani!” she said aloud, gazing at the smokeless blue sky over the city. “How will we survive them all?”

  “By using w
hat we have. Foresight, perseverance, a sense of what is right. And hope.”

  “Bravery as well, tlatoani,” Mixcatl said, wondering why he had forgotten it.

  Though he smiled, an old sadness crept into his eyes. “No. That is a quality I may not lay claim to. One-Deer, the day of my birth, has always shadowed me. I have always been a reluctant warrior.”

  “I am not speaking about the courage of war, tlatoani,” Mixcatl replied. “You said that we are beasts, both inside and out, you as well as I. What I speak of is the strength needed to face that beast.”

  “I did not face it. I turned away. I lied. Both to you and Huetzin.” Wise Coyote closed his eyes.

  “But when the choice came between ending the lie or letting me go on believing that I was too flawed to live, you ended the lie. I know how much that choice has cost you and how much it will still take.”

  “Mixcatl…”

  She continued. “You told Nine-lizard to honor himself for the choice he made on the temple steps. Those words helped him. I saw it in his face. Your wisdom comforts others, tlatoani. Why deny it to yourself?”

  As he looked at her, something shifted within his eyes and the sunlight was at last able to brighten them. “By Tloque Nahaque, you must be right.” His smile became wanner, then he laughed.

  “You are braver than anyone,” she teased.

  His eyebrows went up beneath the turquoise band of his coronet. “What makes you think so?”

  Mixcatl smiled, for she knew that the answer would come easily to her lips. And with it a sense that she had begun to accept herself and her ability. It was the first in a long series of steps she needed to take.

  Taking Wise Coyote’s hand, she asked, “Who else would walk alone with a jaguar?”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Clare Bell has always loved big cats. This interest, coupled with her interest in prehistoric mammals led to her first novel. Ratha’s Creature, a young adult work that was an A.L.A. and PEN award-winner. Since then she’s written three more young adult novels, two in the Ratha series, and one science fiction novel. People of the Sky (Tor, 1990).