In Life, In Death

by Adara Wolf

  His mother told him to stop lying to her on his third visit after the ceremony.

  “I would not have you spend our time together smiling with a false face,” she said to him, and it was sobering enough that he did let his true emotions show.

  “You probably don’t know, but… was Father cruel to the ixiptla?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He hadn’t thought his father kind, but he also never considered him unnecessarily cruel either. Strict. Imposing. Concerned more with matters of rule than with his children.

  “I was never privy to religious affairs.” His mother took his hands into hers. “Your brother—I don’t know what he did, and I don’t want to know, but understand that he is jealous of you. You are a better man than him in every way. Even your father knew this.”

  Ahmiki hoped none of the retainers waiting outside the courtyard could hear them. “Tell me of the wedding plans, then, and how I can assist in making it the most splendid celebration of all.”

  Lady Atoyakoskatl gave him an expression that indicated she was well aware of his attempts to change the subject, but she obliged.

  ~*~*~

  He tried to hide from Masatl and Sentewa as well, but it worked as well as it had on his mother. They were far too attuned to his moods to believe his false smiles.

  Masatl was more affectionate now, finding excuses to touch Ahmiki even beyond the usual grooming rituals. Every touch pierced into Ahmiki’s heart, tying him to Masatl in a way he had never experienced before. He attempted to keep himself apart from Masatl, to spare them both, but Masatl seemed determined to stand at Ahmiki’s side.

  “These last few months,” Masatl whispered while holding Ahmiki in bed, “you should be selfish. Enjoy yourself.”

  Ahmiki decided that his mother and Masatl were right. He would remain strong and live a full life while he still could. He would not allow Colsatsli to cow him, would not bend to the bark of a mad dog. He would be worthy of Teska’atl.

  ~*~*~

  “You could… you could run,” Sentewa suggested, seven days before the next festival. “I’ve heard of forests so dense, people can get lost in them. To the south, there is a river as wide as the ocean, with trees on every shore, and jaguars roaming freely. Surely not even Teska’atl would find you there.”

  Ahmiki shook his head and smiled sadly. “If I did that, then somebody else would be forced to replace me. Perhaps even Masatl. And then they would face my brother’s wrath, which would be twenty times worse. No. I can’t let anybody else shoulder this burden. I was the one chosen, and I am the one who must make peace with this.”

  Throughout it all, Masatl scowled. “Your brother,” he all but growled, “is a coward of the lowest sort. He does not deserve—”

  “Shut up!” Ahmiki shouted, his heart hammering in his chest. Masatl and Sentewa both stared at him, their eyes wide. He had never raised his voice at them before.

  Ahmiki forced himself to calm. “Don’t speak like that. If somebody hears you and tells Colsatsli… I can’t lose either of you right now.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Masatl mumbled, though his eyes didn’t look any less enraged than moments ago.

  The conversation stilled after that. Ahmiki pulled the thin sheet over himself and tried to sleep, ignoring the sounds of Masatl and Sentewa mending clothes and tools.

  The truth was, during the worst nights, Ahmiki had entertained thoughts of running away with both Masatl and Sentewa. If he left either of them behind, they would surely be killed. But if they ran south, beyond the reaches of Xochititlan, he and Masatl could hunt while Sentewa tended to the daily household. Ahmiki would try to find a husband for her, one who would make her happy, and then…

  But when it came down to it, Ahmiki knew he couldn’t. Running away would bring Teska’atl’s wrath down upon them, and if the sun froze in the sky because of him, Ahmiki would never forgive himself. He had already withstood Colsatsli once. He could do it twice more.

  Ahmiki hardened his heart and tried to shake the dread.

  ~*~*~

  The night of the festival, Masatl handed Ahmiki a cup with chocolate in it. “Drink this.”

  Ahmiki’s hands shook as he took the cup, sloshing some of the liquid. “I shouldn’t. The ceremony… “

  Masatl guided the cup to Ahmiki’s mouth, repeating, “drink,” and Ahmiki let the liquid flow in.

  It was sweeter than chocolate usually was, with a sharp aftertaste like alcohol. He frowned at the empty cup. “What was it? Not just chocolate.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  There wasn’t time to worry anyway. Ahmiki’s retainers were waiting just outside, ready to take him to the temple.

  The cape clattered as he made his way to join them, the decorative shells announcing every step Ahmiki took. They chimed like a funeral song, and Ahmiki had to work to keep his breath steady as he played the flute.

  Halfway to the temple, Ahmiki realized that his steps felt lighter, and the notes from his flute seemed to be timed perfectly to the flutter of his cape.

  Once he was actually at the temple, he looked up at the sea of faces, and saw with the gods’ true vision.

  Masatl must have given him the sacred drink, mixed in with the chocolate.

  If anybody found out what Masatl had done, he would be executed. Ahmiki stood as straight as he could, no matter that his body wanted to list to the side.

  He didn’t quite dare look at Colsatsli right then, but he chanced a peek at Tlanextic. The priest was still bleeding from every orifice, but the flow was slower. He was healing from whatever wound was inflicted on his soul.

  The poems finished, the music stopped. Ahmiki took his cue and recited his own part in the ceremony, and with a steady gait he crossed to where his brother sat.

  “As the gods serve the Lady Sun, so do I, ixiptla to Teska’atl, serve you, my lord,” Ahmiki said, loudly and without a waver in his voice.

  Blood gushed out of where Colsatsli’s mouth would have been, if he’d had a face. “As the Lady Sun serves the gods, so do I, King of Xochititlan, serve the people.”

  Lies, Ahmiki thought, but he kept himself still. There was a disconnect between himself and his body that should have alarmed him, but was more than welcome now. Colsatsli could do what he wished. Ahmiki would not be a part of it.

  ~*~*~

  Not feeling it was a blessing. In the morning, Ahmiki would be sore beyond words. He needed a bath, and even twenty times through the temaskalli wouldn’t be enough to cleanse him.

  He lay on the bed, shuddering as Colsatsli stroked his hair.

  “You have always been too beautiful for your own good,” Colsatsli said. “If you hadn’t tried to steal my glory, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  The words made no sense to Ahmiki. He had never wanted glory. Any renown he might have gained was simply because he had followed his father’s orders. All he had ever wanted was to do his duty and serve the people of Xochititlan.

  The cloth door rustled, announcing a visitor. Ahmiki let his head tilt enough to see who had come in.

  Masatl stood there, his face as cold and stoic as any true warrior’s. He didn’t wait for Colsatsli to call for him, but came right up to the bed and began picking Ahmiki up.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Colsatsli demanded, and Ahmiki felt his brother’s hand wrap around his ankle, pulling him back towards the bed.

  “Please let go, my lord. The ixiptla needs tending,” Masatl said. Despite the words, there was no trace of deference in his tone.

  The lack of respect did not go unnoticed by Colsatsli. “Show respect to your betters, slave, lest I have you sacrificed at the next festival.”

  “You might at that. It takes a very small man to feel threatened by a slave.”

  “Insolence!”

  Stop it, Ahmiki wanted to say, but he was suddenly so tired. His thoughts slipped through his mind like fish in a river, gone before he had a chance to reach for them. Masatl shouldn’t risk getting
hurt, but Masatl was strong and warm and Ahmiki wanted nothing more than to lay against him and forget the rest of the world existed.

  “You would do well to remember that you named Ahmiki as the ixiptla, my lord. He is to be treated as a treasure, not a disloyal dog for you to kick.”

  “He is here to serve me as I please! I am king. I will be remembered for thousands of years to come, while his name is doomed to be forgotten amongst those of all other ixiptla,” Colsatsli snarled.

  Ahmiki lifted his arms up and wrapped them around Masatl’s broad shoulders, nuzzled against Masatl’s neck. Maybe if he made Masatl happy, he would calm down instead of fighting with Colsatsli. Fighting with Colsatsli was bad. Ahmiki’s body was proof of that.

  Masatl did take a moment to smile at Ahmiki, his eyes glowing with a jaguar’s strength. But then he lifted his gaze towards Colsatsli again. “You yell at me because you fear your betters. You fear Ahmiki’s strong will and his strong face. You, who have no face of your own, who knows only how to lie and cheat, you will never be even half the man that Ahmiki is now. Your father was wise and saw Ahmiki’s true worth, and for that you made him suffer.

  “Cease your current course. Heed your priest’s warning, and you might yet find a face of your own. Continue as you have, and there will be nothing but destruction and ruin in front of you. “

  There was nothing more melodious than Masatl’s voice, Ahmiki thought. He kissed Masatl’s collar bone and wished he had the energy to do more. He felt so disconnected from the rest of the world that Colsatsli’s angry response didn’t even register.

  “I will have your head on a platter by morning!”

  “Then call for your guards, Colsatsli, and let them see how you have harmed the ixiptla. I shall shout it for the entire city to hear. Have you yet corrupted all the priests, all the judges, that they would accept such an abuse of power?”

  Masatl shifted Ahmiki’s weight, and then he was walking out of the room, away from Colsatsli.

  “He doesn’t have a face,” Ahmiki blurt out suddenly, halfway back to the ixiptla residence. He wasn’t sure why it was important to tell Masatl this, but he knew he had to. “He isn’t a real person.”

  And Masatl laughed, somehow sounding both cruel and incredibly kind, all at once. “I know, my treasure, I know.”

  ~*~*~

  Ahmiki couldn’t remember the previous night at all, and he decided it was for the best. He thanked Masatl for getting him back safely—or, as safely as could be expected—and then he pointedly walked the streets, played his flute and danced, just to show that he was unaffected by the experience.

  He ran across Pakowatl’s father Wewetl, sitting near the canal. Without really realizing it, Ahmiki sat down next to him, ignoring the dirty looks some of his retainers shot at him.

  “Oh! My lord, I’m sorry. Am I disturbing you here?” Wewetl asked, his aged face looking even older than Ahmiki remembered it. Surely he couldn’t have been that old when Ahmiki had assigned him to guide matters in Yowalapan.

  “Of course not, my friend. I only thought that you looked troubled, and I would play my flute to ease your worries.”

  Wewetl smiled at him, and Ahmiki began playing. The mirror on his back swayed a bit, thunking against his back, a now familiar sensation that sometimes went unnoticed, and at other times beat a reminder of Ahmiki’s role into him.

  He stopped playing when he felt the mirror digging into his back. He twisted his head to watch as Wewetl touched the mirror, pushing against it, fascinated by his own reflection.

  “What do you see, my friend?” Ahmiki asked, and Wewetl startled and pulled away.

  “I’m sorry, my lord. I only… “

  “It’s all right. What did you see?”

  Wewetl laughed bitterly. “I see only an old man, who is perhaps too carved in stone to bend to the changing winds.”

  “It is a strong man whose heart remains steady under adversity,” Ahmiki responded, remembering his father’s words.

  Wewetl gave him a sad smile. “If the wind is strong enough, it can break even a mountain, piece by piece.” And then his eyes flickered to where Ahmiki’s retinue stood waiting.

  If they had been in private, perhaps Wewetl would have told Ahmiki of what his true worries were. As it stood, Ahmiki was too afraid, both for himself and for Wewetl, to force the matter.

  He stood up and smiled at the old man. “I will keep walking. Perhaps I shall see you again sometime, my friend.”

  “Yes. At my son’s and your sister’s wedding. I will see it happen before the year is out,” Wewetl answered, and he stepped close, embraced Ahmiki for just a moment. Far too familiar with the ixiptla, but over far too soon for Ahmiki.

  “Thank you,” Ahmiki whispered, and he turned to walk away before his retinue came to interfere.

  He mulled over what Wewetl had said. Would it be easier to have a weak heart that bent easily, one that allowed himself to believe Colsatsli was in the right?

  Would Teska’atl accept a sacrifice with a weak heart, no face of his own?

  Ahmiki shuddered. No. He could not stand the idea of somebody looking at him and seeing the same featureless figure as Colsatsli.

  He would serve his brother one more time. And Ahmiki would keep his heart as strong as stone.

  ~*~*~

  The priests and sages hovered around Ahmiki for most of the day before the festival, overseeing every step of his cleansing and never providing an opportunity for Ahmiki to be alone with Masatl.

  For some reason, that distressed Ahmiki more than knowing he’d be facing Colsatsli that evening.

  “Can’t I just get a moment alone?” Ahmiki asked Tlanextic, but the man shook his head and said something about the importance of getting everything exactly right. He forced Ahmiki to recite the songs again and again, until Ahmiki was sick of them, until he stumbled over the words simply because he could barely differentiate between one and another. Tlanextic yelled, and they started again.

  Even while Masatl and Sentewa dressed and decorated him, priests hovered nearby. Masatl kept his gaze averted, but his hands were tense and just a bit too-rough for him to be anything but livid. They couldn’t even dare a kiss in front of all these people, who might understand a man fucking another man but would not understand the tenderness of lips touching.

  Sentewa tried to keep a smile on her face, and she filled silences with chatter about how beautiful Ahmiki looked, how he truly was imbued with Teska’atl’s holy spirit.

  And then it was time. Time to dance in front of the people, time to play the gods’ music, time to pretend he was enjoying the ritual and the spectacle. He accidentally caught his mother’s eye, and even from a distance he could see that she was on the verge of tears. He gave her a broken smile to reassure her that everything was fine.

  ~*~*~

  It was not fine.

  Colsatsli bound Ahmiki’s wrists together with the string of one of his many necklaces and tied those to the corner of the bed. It took everything Ahmiki had not to visibly panic, pulling at the string and hoping for it to break under the pressure.

  “Last time, you were so compliant. I said to Tlanextic, was it part of the ritual for you to be drunk?” Colsatsli sneered at Ahmiki, forced his legs wide open. “He told me no, and I said he had better make sure you performed the ritual exactly as ordained this time. We wouldn’t want the gods to be angry with us, now would we?”

  Ahmiki squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. Hands on his thighs, squeezing his balls, slapping against his hole, scratching his soft cock. He bit his lip to keep from making a sound, and that pain was preferable to the rough handling from Colsatsli.

  “Don’t do this, brother,” Ahmiki begged. “I’m sorry I made you angry me, but please don’t… “

  Colsatsli slapped his face, the crack of hand against skin echoing even louder than Ahmiki’s labored breathing.

  “You shut up. Shut up, pretending you’re better than me. Pretending you know more about ruling than I do
. Your fucking job is to look pretty and die!”

  The next slap coincided with a piece of Ahmiki’s heart breaking off. For some reason, he’d thought his brother still held some affection for him. Even after the last two times, he’d thought that their shared childhood was still stronger.

  Fuck. Ahmiki felt the first of his tears start spilling, not because of the physical pain of Colsatsli breaching him, but because of the ache of having lost his brother and not even knowing when it had happened.

  Have faith, a voice whispered.

  Ahmiki’s eyes shot wide and he looked around. Nobody. His throat caught on a whine as Colsatsli dragged his nails across Ahmiki’s armpits, sharp and painful.

  Have faith, the voice repeated. You are stronger than him.

  Ahmiki closed his eyes, not wanting to see the ugly sneer on Colsatsli’s face.

  In the next moment, the sensations, the pain, became duller. Ahmiki blinked.

  His arms were still tied to the bed post, Colsatsli was still wildly thrusting into him. Yet Ahmiki wasn’t really a part of it anymore.

  It reminded him of the disconnect he felt when he imbibed the sacred mixture, amplified twenty-fold, yet with so much more clarity. He saw Colsatsli as the faceless monster that he was; he saw that his brother was rotting from the inside out, and it didn’t scare him. It simply was.

  I will not let him hurt what is mine, the voice whispered. He gave you to me, but tries to break you. You are my silver, my jade. You are my ixiptla.

  Oh. Ahmiki’s thoughts drifted on a gentle wave, warm and comforting and safe.

  He tried to send his gratitude to Teska’atl. He tried to beg forgiveness for allowing himself to be broken like this. He wanted to ask why Colsatsli was so terrible. He tried not to resent Teska’atl for not taking him away from here.

  Hush. You are safe with me. He can hurt your body, but not your spirit.

  Ahmiki floated, let himself listen to those reassurances whispered in his mind. Maybe he was simply going crazy, trying to find some way to escape what was happening to him. Even if that were the case, it was better than being scared and crying.