'It's a compass,' Alec told him. He was uncomfortably aware that the young girl was studying him with her dark brown eyes, a smile on her face. She was strikingly pretty, her long black hair hanging in braids around her shoulders.
'A cum-pass?' echoed Chicahua, looking puzzled.
'It's a device for . . . finding your way when you are lost. You see how the needle always points to the north?'
'Norf ?' Chicahua looked baffled. 'What is this . . . norf?'
Alec shook his head, wondering how he could explain such a thing to an Aztec. He gave it his best shot: 'Wherever you travel,' he said, 'this needle will always show you the best path to take.'
Chicahua studied the compass for a moment and then lifted his head and smiled. 'I see . . .'He nodded. 'That is a fine gift.'
Itztli didn't seem to think so. He stepped forward, pointed at the compass and said something in Nahuatl; it didn't sound complimentary.
'The priest says that this thing is cursed,' said the girl quietly. 'He tells us that we should throw it away.'
'Don't listen to him,' Alec urged her. 'This was given to me by my own father. Don't trust what the priest says.'
She studied Alec for a moment and then nodded. 'I have told my brother this many times,' she said. 'Itztli is a man who smiles with his teeth, but not with his eyes. My brother trusts him, but in my heart I think he wishes us harm.'
'No, sister!' protested Chicahua. 'Itztli is my friend and protector. He gives me wonderful gifts. He sent me a new wife yesterday.'
The girl rolled her eyes as though she could hardly believe what her brother had just said. 'He flatters you because he knows how easily impressed you are.'
Of the two children, she was by far the more accomplished English-speaker, Alec noticed. Her brother sounded crude and halting beside her, but then she must be a good three years older than him.
Itztli came closer now and started to speak rapidly in Nahuatl, pointing at Alec with his dagger as he did so. His face was contorted in an expression of disgust, as though he were discussing the fate of an insect.
Chicahua glanced warily at Alec. 'Itztli asks to kill you and your friends,' he said.
'I understand,' said Alec, looking gravely at the boy. 'Please don't let him.'
Chicahua frowned. 'Itztli is powerful man in Colotlán,' he said doubtfully. 'Is not wise to make of him an enemy.'
'But you are emperor,' said the girl. 'Why not show him who is in charge?'
'Tepin, I tell you before,' said Chicahua. 'You are just a girl. Is not your place to speak of such matters.'
Tepin looked indignant at this. 'I am your sister and I want only the best for you. You should listen to me more often.' She looked at Alec thoughtfully. 'You are handsome,' she said. 'I like your pale skin. What is your name?'
Alec felt his face reddening, but sensing that he had a potential ally in her, he told her, 'My name is Alec.'
'Al-eck,' she said. 'I like your name! What does it mean?'
'Erm . . . I'm not sure,' he said. He thought for a moment. 'I think it means . . . trustworthy. Yes, a man who can be trusted.' He was sure it didn't mean anything of the kind, but he was trying to win them over, so it seemed like the right thing to say.
'My name is Tepin, which means "little one".'
Alec looked at her. 'That's a nice name,' he said and saw her smile deepen. 'Can't you persuade the priest to spare us?' he begged her.
Tepin leaned over and whispered more words into her brother's ear. Chicahua nodded and turned to Alec.
'Tepin reminds me that we both wish to know more of your world,' he said. 'Coyotl does not speak of his days among the white people. We have asked him many times but he tells us only a little.'
Alec was momentarily puzzled, but then remembered that Coyotl was Travers' Aztec name. 'My world has changed much since his time,' he said. 'I can tell you many things about it. Things that will amaze you.'
There was a silence and then the bald man said something to the emperor. He spoke in Nahuatl, but from the expression on his face Alec surmised that he was warning the boy not to trust this outsider. Chicahua said something terse back to him and he bowed his head in acceptance, but looked none too pleased.
'Patli warns me not to anger Itztli,' said Chicahua. 'Patli is my . . .' He seemed to search for a suitable word and looked to his sister for help.
'I think you call this a . . . servant?' said Tepin.
Alec nodded. 'A servant tells you what to do?' he asked slyly.
Chicahua looked angry. 'Nobody tells me what to do,' he said. 'I am emperor. I am all-powerful!' He looked at the bald man again and snapped a few more words of Nahuatl. Patli immediately let go of the jaguar's lead and dropped onto his hands and knees, his head bowed until he was within biting distance of the big cat. To emphasize the point, Chicahua lifted a sandaled foot and placed it on the back of Patli's neck. Alec thought what a miserable life it must be for a grown man, dependent on the whims of a twelve-year-old. Chicahua kept his foot there for a moment, then pushed the man away with a sneer.
He considered for a moment, then glanced at Alec. 'Perhaps I ask Itztli for your life,' he said. He gestured down the steps to the kneeling captives. 'And I give him the lives of these others.'
Alec shook his head. 'They are my friends,' he said. 'My place is with them.'
'Even if they go to Mictlan?' asked Tepin incredulously.
Alec took a deep breath, realizing that it would be so easy to wash his hands of it all and save his own skin. But he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he chose that path.
'We are together,' he said. 'If they must go, then I go with them.'
Tepin stared at Alec as though she couldn't quite believe that anyone would make such a choice. Then she smiled again. She said something in Nahuatl to Chicahua, her voice pleading, and he considered her words for a moment. Then he turned to say something to Itztli. The high priest reacted as though he had been slapped. He took a step back and glared at his emperor. When he spoke, his tone was agitated. He pointed to the summit of the step pyramid and lifted the dagger again. Another cheer rose from the crowd, but this time it was more subdued, as though the people weren't sure who they should support.
Chicahua raised an arm and the crowd fell silent. There was a brief pause while he sat there looking around, as if daring them to cheer again. Then he turned back to Itztli and spoke, his child's voice sounding suddenly more authoritative.
Itztli flashed Alec a look of pure venom, but had to bow his head in acceptance. He turned and descended the steps, striding away into the midst of the crowd, which parted to allow him through.
'What did you say to him?' asked Alec.
'I tell him . . . I need time to . . . decide.'
'Time?' Alec licked his lips. 'How much time?'
'Three days and three nights,' said Chicahua. 'Then we see. Now . . . you come with us, tell us all about your world.'
Alec nodded. 'And . . . my friends?'
'Oh, they go back to . . .' Chicahua seemed to have trouble finding the right word. He mimed bars with his hands.
'Prison?' suggested Alec.
Chicahua shrugged and nodded. 'Don' worry,' he said. 'They be looked after. Plenty to eat and drink.'
'May I speak to them first?'
Chicahua looked somewhat irritated by this request. 'Quickly then,' he said.
Alec turned and hurried down the steps to the others. They all looked up at him with bewildered expressions.
'Master Alec,' said Coates, 'if you ever pull a stunt like that again—'
Alec interrupted him. 'There's not much time,' he said. 'I've got us a reprieve. Three days and three nights. It's not much, but it's something. You're going to be taken back to the cell.'
'And you?' asked Ethan.
'I'm going with the emperor and his sister. They want to know all about us. Meanwhile I'll be trying my best to think of a way to get us out of here.'
'Don't take any risks, Alec,' said Ethan. 'Try
and stay on their good side. He may be just a kid, but he's the power in this place. Mind you, I think the sister has a soft spot for you. Maybe you could use that.'
'You think so?' murmured Alec. He glanced back and saw that Tepin was still studying him intently. He gave Ethan and Coates what he hoped was a confident smile.
'Whatever made you think of giving him the compass?' asked Coates.
'I just figured it was something that any boy would like to have.'
'Al-eck!' shouted Chicahua. 'We go now!'
Alec turned obediently, realizing that their fate now lay in the chubby hands of a little boy. He climbed the steps and watched as the slaves shouldered the throne, the guards forming protective rows on either side of their emperor.
Tepin beckoned to Alec. 'You may walk beside me,' she said. Alec bowed respectfully and drew alongside her. As the procession moved off, he risked a quick glance over his shoulder: the guards were marching the others back through the crowd towards their cell. He hoped they'd be all right.
'Don't worry,' said Tepin, noticing his look of concern. 'They will be well looked after. Nothing happens to them without my brother's word.' She studied him again for a moment. 'I like your hair,' she added.
Alec didn't really know what to say to that.
Conchita was annoyed. No sooner had she got back to her chambers to tuck into some hot food (taking care to avoid anything she couldn't easily identify) than her fellow wives were flocking around, urging her to get herself ready for yet another 'special' occasion.
She was feeling bad after witnessing the plight of Frank and the other hostages out in the square. They had all looked terrified and it was clear that their lives were in danger; it made her realize how lucky she was: her only problem was deciding which dress to wear. Of course, she still wanted to escape, the first chance she got, but at least she was being well looked after. All right, she had accidentally eaten some dog, but that seemed a small thing compared to the woes of her fellow travellers. At one point Frank had spotted her in the crowd and waved at her and her heart had gone out to him. She had even tried to make her way towards him, but the other wives had grabbed her arms to stop her. Nelli told her that it was forbidden for her to leave the company of her fellow wives except by direct invitation of the emperor. Why, she wondered, was it only now that she realized how special Frank was and how much he meant to her?
Then she had asked, quite innocently, 'Where is the emperor, anyhow? All I can see up there is a fat little kid sitting on a golden chair!' The remark had prompted a gasp of horror from Nelli, who had told her quietly and firmly that the 'fat kid' was now her husband and she would do well to make sure nobody heard her speaking about him in such an impudent way.
Conchita had stood there, staring up at the boy, telling herself that at least the fears she'd had about being pushed around by her new husband wouldn't come to much. He looked like he needed help to tie his sandals. She had never thought about getting married, but figured that Rudolph Valentino was nearer to her ideal man. Of course, she knew how Frank felt about her, though neither of them had ever spoken about it. The truth was, she saw Frank as a means to an end – someone with the connections to get her that all-important screen test. But seeing him down on his knees in the square had made her feel terrible, particularly when she saw that he was more concerned about her than he was for himself. She was relieved when she saw the captives being led away – it appeared nothing was happening to them immediately.
Conchita had gone back to her quarters, her empty stomach reminding her that she had gone out without breakfast this morning; and now, here she was, about to bite into her first corn pancake of the day, and Nelli was telling her to get herself dressed at once, because her husband had asked to see his new bride and it didn't do to keep him waiting.
'Give me a break!' complained Conchita. 'Always everything has to be done in the big hurry! Can't I just sit here and finish my breakfas'?'
'No! Now come!' Nelli insisted she change her dress for something more opulent. Then her hair was re-braided – though she was allowed to snack while she sat there being beautified.
'What's going to happen?' she asked Nelli, between bites. 'To Frank and the others?'
Nelli shrugged. 'Chicahua decide in three days. Itztli want to send them to Mictlan.'
'Oh, where's that?' asked Conchita. 'Another town?'
Nelli laughed, showing her perfect white teeth. 'You so funny!' she cried. 'Mictlan is the underworld. Itztli will send them there with his dagger.'
Conchita stared at her. 'But . . . he can't do that!' she protested.
'He can! Itztli has sent many, many people to Mictlan this way.'
Conchita frowned. 'Listen, Nelli. Can you get me in to see Frank?'
Nelli frowned. 'Why you want see him? He not your husban' no more. You have new husban' now.'
Conchita leaned forward in her chair and placed an arm on Nelli's shoulder. 'You could get me in to talk to him, couldn't you? Just to let him know I'm all right?'
Nelli looked very doubtful. 'We will see,' she said dismissively. 'Right now you must go visit with the emperor. Now, stand up, show me.'
Conchita got to her feet and did a couple of twirls for Nelli, who clapped her hands delightedly. 'Good,' she said. 'Now. We go!'
And before Conchita could say any more, she was being hurried along to a different part of the palace,munching a last corn pancake as she went.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Playing for Time
Alec was beginning to feel a bit like Scheherazade, the storyteller from The Thousand and One Nights. It had been his favourite bedtime book when he was little, read to him every evening by his mother.
The incredible tales of thieves and magicians and monsters were told by Scheherazade, who had been given in marriage to the king of Persia, only to discover that he'd been taking a new wife every day, then having her head chopped off at dawn so he could be free to marry again. However, Scheherazade told such incredible stories that he could not wait to hear the next one; and for one thousand and one nights she managed to keep him spellbound, until eventually he decided not to kill her.
This is how it was with Chicahua and Tepin. They were eager to hear all about the wonders of the modern world. Alec had begun with aeroplanes – or 'flying chariots' as Chicahua preferred to call them – though describing the workings of an engine to a couple of young Aztecs had taxed his descriptive powers; any bits that he was hazy on he simply made up. From there, they moved on to motorcars and telephones and all manner of inventions that must have sounded like witchcraft to them.
Alec and Chicahua were stretched out on luxurious couches in the emperor's chamber. Tepin stood by her brother's couch, apparently prohibited from taking a seat – though it was becoming clear that she exerted a big influence over her brother; and by the way she kept smiling at Alec, it was obvious that she was more than a little interested in him.
Alec couldn't help feeling guilty when he thought of his friends, cooped up in rather less comfortable circumstances. Chicahua was being waited on by the ever-attentive Patli; the servant kept scowling at Alec, who was worried he might take the opportunity to put poison in his food. Two armed guards stood just a short distance away, their faces impassive – though they were watching Alec intently. At least the jaguar had been put in a cage, where he was gnawing on a large chunk of meat. Alec had been told that he was called Yaotl and was Chicahua's pet, raised from a cub to be his protector.
On a low table beside the emperor were all manner of exotic snacks, most of which Alec could not identify; a couple of golden goblets were filled with something called pulque, a rather bitter-tasting beer which, if Alec understood correctly, was made from cactus. He wasn't at all sure that a twelve-year-old should be drinking such a powerful brew. The couple of polite sips he had taken had made him feel distinctly lightheaded. Chicahua also had a thing about chocolate. A huge bowl of cocoa beans stood in front of him, and every so often he would gesture to Patli, wh
o would obediently place one in the boy's mouth. This might account for Chicahua's weight problem, Alec thought. He was pudgier than the average twelve-year-old had any right to be. When prompted, Alec helped himself to a couple of the beans but they were so bitter he felt like gagging and eventually had to pretend to eat them, while surreptitiously putting them in his pocket.
Chicahua and Tepin weren't content to just listen. Alec's stories were punctuated by a whole string of awkward questions.
'So what makes these car things go?' asked Chicahua at one point.
'Well, they have an engine. A thing made of metal with many moving parts. And when you put petrol into it—'
'Pet-rol. What is pet-rol?' asked Tepin.
'It's a liquid made from oil.'
'Oil?'
'Umm . . . yes, crude oil. That's a black sticky substance that comes from deep underground. People have to dig down far below the surface to find it. Anyway, they take this crude oil and they refine it—'
'Refine it?' muttered Chicahua.
'They . . . er . . . clean it up. Take all the stickiness out of it. And once they've done that, it's called petrol and they pour it into a tank in the car and it's fed into the engine. The liquid gives off a gas. Then a spark ignites the gas—'
'Ignites it?' asked Tepin.
'Yes, it sort of . . . sets fire to it. In a controlled way. And that drives a piston up and down—'
'Piston?'
And so on. Alec could very easily have lost his temper with them, but he knew that would be a big mistake so he went on answering their questions with good grace. He was quite relieved when they were interrupted by a young woman, who came in, head bowed low. She said something to Patli. He in turn passed on the message and Chicahua nodded.
'Wait,' he told Alec. 'I have to meet new wife.'
Alec stared at the boy, amazed to think that anyone that age might have even one wife, let alone several. And then he remembered who that new wife was. He turned to look as Conchita was led into the room by a couple of other women. She stood there, looking from Chicahua to Alec and back again. She'd been dressed in an exquisitely embroidered robe, her hair braided and her cheeks rouged. She did look very attractive, Alec thought – apart from the scowl on her face, as if she had just detected a bad smell in the room. Clearly the thought of being married to a twelve-year-old boy didn't exactly thrill her. Alec hoped she wouldn't say anything out of turn, but then he remembered what she was like. This situation called for diplomacy, something she didn't exactly have an abundance of.
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