Servant of the Underworld Read online

  My heart sank. If it had been a beast of shadows… there were ways, and means, to track creatures of the underworld. But a nahual… There were too many of them in Tenochtitlan at any given time: any person born on a Jaguar day could summon their own nahual, though it would take years of dedicated practise to call up something material enough to carry off a human, or even to wound.

  "I can attempt to track it," I said, finally, even though I knew it was a futile exercise. Nahual magic was weak to start with, and the coming of sunlight would annihilate it. We had perhaps four hours before dawn, but I doubted that would be enough.

  Ceyaxochitl appeared absorbed in contemplation of the brazier: a studied pose, it suddenly occurred to me.

  "But I still don't see–" I started, with a growing hollow in my stomach.

  She turned, so abruptly I took a step backward. "I arrested your brother tonight, Acatl."

  Her words shattered my thoughts, yanking my mind from worries about Eleuia and the nahual to something much closer to me – and much more unpleasant. She had… arrested my brother?

  "Which one?" I asked, but I knew the answer, just as I knew why she'd asked about the nahual magic, and why she'd waited for my confirmation before telling me anything. Only one of my brothers had been born on a Jaguar day.

  "Neutemoc? You can't arrest him," I said slowly, but Ceyaxochitl shook her head.

  "He was in this room, covered in blood. And there was magic all over him."

  "You're wrong," I said, because those were the only words that got past my lips. "My brother isn't–"

  "Acatl." Her voice was gentle but firm. "When the priestesses arrived, he was searching the room, overturning the wicker chests and even the brazier. And I've never seen so much blood on someone, except perhaps the Revered Speaker after the Great Sacrifices. Your brother's hands were slick with it."

  I finally dragged my voice from wherever it had fled. "My brother isn't a killer."

  That made no sense, I thought, trying to close the hollow deepening in my stomach. Neutemoc was a successful warrior: a member of the elite Jaguar Knights, a son of peasants elevated into the nobility after his feats in the Tepeaca war. My parents had all but worshipped him, back when they had both been alive. He could do no wrong. He had always been the precious, beloved child – whereas I, of course, was less than nothing, a humble priest who had never had the courage to seek wealth and honour on the battlefield. Of course he was a warrior. Of course he'd know how to kill.

  But surely… surely he wouldn't do such a thing?

  "I'm sure your brother can explain what he thought he was doing in her room. So far, he hasn't been helpful." Ceyaxochitl's voice was ice again. She disapproved of Neutemoc's arrogance, but I wasn't sure why. Knowing my brother, he'd have said the wrong things to her. The Duality knew it didn't take much to anger her these days.

  I tried to think of something to say, but couldn't form any meaningful words.

  Ceyaxochitl tapped her cane against the clay of the brazier, with a hollow sound. "You're the High Priest for the Dead, in charge of the Sacred Precinct. A case like this is your province, and mine."

  Guardian, and priest: a Guardian to wield the magic of the Duality, and a priest that of the underworld. We'd done it before; many, many times, both here and in the smaller town of Coyoacan. But this was different. I couldn't…

  Not Neutemoc. Duality, no. We'd parted ways four years ago, and the last thing I wanted was to see him again. I had left him alone in his grand house with his success, freeing him of the burden of my presence. His acts, in any case, had made it painfully clear that he might not completely share my parents' disapproval of me; but that he would do nothing to change it, that he would not even speak up in my defence when Mother was screaming at me from her death-bed. The hollow in my stomach wouldn't close.

  I should walk away. That was the sensible option. Leave him to face the magistrates on his own, as he no doubt wished. But if I did this – if I ran away from him, at this moment – then I would be no better than him. I would prove, once and for all, that Father and Mother had been right: that I was a coward, unworthy of the battlefield.

  The Storm Lord's lightning sear him! What had he been thinking of?

  "You want us to take the investigation," I said to Ceyaxochitl.

  She said nothing for a while. "No," she said. "Not quite. I didn't call you here at night for my own amusement, despite what you might think of me."

  "You don't know what I think of you," I protested, which was not quite true. I was wary of whatever she offered, with good reason.

  Ceyaxochitl turned, slightly. Her face in the brazier's wavering light was a statue's: majestic, expressionless. "I could have dealt with this on my own. After all, guilt has already been established–"

  "It hasn't," I protested – a reflex that surprised me by its vehemence.

  "It has," Ceyaxochitl said. She banged her cane on the floor; its deep sound punctuated each of her words. "Listen to the end, young man. As I said: I have no need for you. Strictly speaking, nahual magic isn't your province, and it dissipates in daylight anyway. There has been no encroaching of the boundaries."

  "No," I finally admitted. Aside from saying the death-rites, I maintained the boundaries: the fragile balance between the underworld and the world of the Fifth Sun. I dealt with the minor gods of Mictlan: the Wind of Knives, the Owl Archer, the Faded Warrior. "But–"

  Ceyaxochitl banged her cane a scant hand-span from my exposed foot. I flinched. "Be silent. I summoned you to do you a favour."

  As you did by pushing my name for promotion at the Imperial Court? I thought, but bit my lip before the words could escape me.

  Ceyaxochitl saw me, all the same, and smiled grimly. "You might not think it's much of a favour. But the fact is, Acatl, I have no time to investigate this as it should be investigated. Either I end it swiftly by condemning your brother on scant evidence, or I leave it to you."

  "No time?" No time for my own brother – after all I'd done for her? No time to find a priestess who might be, if not dead, in mortal danger? "What's so important?"

  Ceyaxochitl grimaced. "Revered Speaker Axayacatltzin is ill. All the healers are by his bedside day and night. As Guardian, my place is with them."

  That the Emperor was ill wasn't news. But, still, I had to ask. "Do you think it's–"

  "Magical?" She shook her head. "No. But he's a man, Acatl. He may be Huitzilpochtli's agent on earth, but even a god's powers don't guard you against wounds, or fatigue."

  "And so that takes precedence," I said. Again, not a surprise. The Imperial Family always took precedence over us: a bitter, but necessary thought.

  "It has to," Ceyaxochitl said. "The fight for his succession has already started among the Council."

  The Imperial succession wasn't my concern. Whoever was elected Revered Speaker would still want the dead to be honoured, and the balance to be maintained between the Fifth World, the underworld Mictlan, and the Heavens. Neutemoc was the one I needed to focus on. "So what you're telling me…"

  "Is that you can investigate this matter, but, as I said, you'll be on your own. I'll offer resources, but I can't do more than that, or I risk my own position." She didn't sound thrilled by that consideration. But then she had always been independent, like me.

  "You know I can't refuse," I said.

  Her gaze was sceptical. She knew exactly the state of my relationship with my family, and the grievances between Neutemoc and me. I owed nothing to my brother – nothing at all. I could just walk away…

  There was a tight knot in my belly; a constriction in my throat, as if I would vomit. I couldn't let Neutemoc be executed. I couldn't stand by and do nothing.

  "Very well," I said. I crouched on my haunches in the middle of the room, trying to forget the nausea in my stomach. "I assume you've sent search parties out into the Sacred Precinct."

  "Yes," Ceyaxochitl said. "With jade amulets."

  I shook my head. "Jade won't be of use against a n
ahual." But it couldn't hurt, either. "What can you tell me about Priestess Eleuia?"

  Ceyaxochitl's cane tapped against the frescoed walls. "An ambitious woman," she said. "Still beautiful, considering that she was five years older than you."

  Thirty-five. For a woman, definitely past her prime.

  "And?"

  "All this is hearsay, of course," Ceyaxochitl said. "Gathered from those few students bold enough to talk to me. But the head of the calmecac, Priestess Zollin, wasn't overjoyed about Eleuia being foretold as the next Consort of the Flower Prince, Xochipilli. Zollin had ambitions of her own."

  "Was she born on a Jaguar day?" I asked.

  Ceyaxochitl shrugged. "That can be verified. She could have hired someone to do the summoning, though."

  I shook my head, still feeling the roiling anger in the room. "Too much rage in here. Whoever did this had personal stakes."

  Ceyaxochitl bent to lift the reed mat from the ground with her cane. "I'll defer to your expertise in such matters. What else? You'll want to know about the people present in this section of the calmecac. Surprisingly few, considering how spread-out the place is."

  "You can't account for them all," I said.

  "You'd be surprised," Ceyaxochitl said, "at how many priestesses are awake at night."

  Of course. They would be going through their devotions, just like the priests in the other temples: blowing their shell-conches at regular hours, burning copal to honour their goddesses, and kneeling on the cold stones to pray for the welfare of the Fifth World. "So who was here?"

  "In the vicinity of this room," Ceyaxochitl corrected. "A handful of students. Another Jaguar Knight, Mahuizoh. And, of course, Zollin, whose rooms are just next to Eleuia's."

  "A Jaguar Knight?" Men in the girls' calmecac weren't rare or forbidden, but they usually left by sunset.

  "Visiting his sister," Ceyaxochitl said. "The girl says he didn't leave her side."

  "She would."

  Ceyaxochitl nodded. "Of course. Blood stands by blood." Probably another jab at me.

  Or perhaps I was being too sensitive about the whole matter. The idea of Neutemoc arrested and tried had rubbed me raw, and I wasn't really fit to judge Ceyaxochitl's actions.

  "What was Neutemoc's reason for being here?" I asked.

  Ceyaxochitl shrugged. "He won't tell us."

  I turned, took a good look at the room. "I guess you've already searched it?"

  Ceyaxochitl didn't move. "Yaotl did. But if you want to see for yourself…"

  I nodded. Yaotl had no magical sight. It was possible he might have missed something, though unlikely.

  It was a brief search. Like all priestesses, Eleuia had been living in near-poverty. In the wicker chests I found a few personal belongings, and an unfolding codex on maguey paper, which opened with a rustling sound, to reveal the history of the Fifth World – from the primal fire from which Tonatiuh the Sun God had emerged, to the very end: the Celestial Women and monsters that would consume us before the earthquakes tore the land apart.

  Aside from that… a few tokens, safely hidden under a pile of embroidered cotton skirts: an exquisite chalcedony pendant set in silver, in the shape of a dancer entwined with a warrior; and the same kind of pendant, this time in coral, with the dancer alone. Presumably, a third pendant with another type of inset stone, depicting the warrior alone, would complete the set. It was a fairly safe guess, though, that Eleuia had it around her neck.

  I walked out of the room with Ceyaxochitl in tow, wondering how to proceed.

  Outside, the night was dark, with only a few stars winking in the sky. Like all the rooms in the calmecac, Eleuia's quarters opened onto a courtyard with a small garden – in this case, a pine-tree. There was faint magic in the courtyard: traces of a nahual, though without living blood I couldn't place it more precisely.

  "Satisfied?" Ceyaxochitl asked.

  I took a quick look at the layout of the place. Only two sets of rooms opened on this particular courtyard: two wide entrances flanked by painted pillars, their curtains painted with the same dayflower design. The first were Eleuia's, which I had just searched; I guessed that the others had to be those of her rival, Zollin.

  I would have to talk with Zollin, to see what she'd really thought of Eleuia, and whether she'd summoned the nahual. I would also have to talk to Neutemoc – and the Southern Hummingbird knew I wasn't looking forward to that.

  But the most urgent thing was tracking the nahual. Which meant I needed to cast a spell; and unlike Ceyaxochitl, who was the agent of the Duality and had been entrusted with some of Their powers, I could only rely on my personal magic. Other than magical obsidian, our patron Mictlantecuhtli, God of the Dead, did not give His powers into human hands. Without the gods' help, I could only work magic with living blood.

  For this, my own blood would not suffice: I needed much more than I could spare.

  "Do the priestesses have supplies here?" I asked.

  "For using the living blood?" Ceyaxochitl rose, as regally as an Imperial Consort. "That depends what you want. They're mostly small animals: birds, rabbits…"

  I shook my head. For what I had in mind, I needed an animal connected with Mixcoatl, the Cloud Serpent, God of the Hunt. "I'll return to my temple."

  TWO

  The Jaguar Born

  I walked back to my temple in a preoccupied mood – trying to keep my thoughts away from Neutemoc and what awaited him if I failed. My brother had brought me many problems, but so far most of those had come only from my own doings: if I had chosen the path my parents wanted for me, if I had gone to war and distinguished myself on the battlefield, they would have found no need to compare us to each other – and invariably find me, a priest with few possessions of his own, a failure too great to be encompassed in words.

  I reached the temple, and found my priests still up. My second-in-command Ichtaca, who was obviously done with the vigil I'd left him, was leading a group of novice priests to one of the examination rooms. Overhead loomed the bulk of the pyramid with its shrine; and several buildings of the temple opened on the courtyard: rooms where the priests would make offerings; places where the lesser dead (those not of Imperial blood) would be honoured; closed rooms for examinations in the case of suspicious deaths; and our storehouse, a discreet, unadorned door hidden at the back of the temple complex.

  The offering priest who was watching the storehouse's entrance – Palli, a burly nobleman's son who looked more suited for the military than for the priesthood – bowed as I came towards him. "Good evening, Acatl-tzin. You need something?"

  I nodded. "Living blood. Do you know what's inside tonight?"

  Palli shrugged. "Mostly owls. There's probably some other animals, too."

  For what I had in mind, owls would not do – they were connected with the underworld and not with the hunt.

  "I'll take a look inside," I said.

  Palli frowned. "I can fetch what you need."

  "No, there's no need." Huitzilpochtli blind me, I wasn't so respectable yet that I couldn't find my way through a storehouse.

  I picked one of the torches outside, and held it against the flame of the torch on the wall until it blazed. Then I entered the storehouse, making my way between the carved pillars. They each bore the image of a minor deity of the underworld: the hulking shape of the Owl Archer, leaning on his feathered bow with the suggestion of coiled strength; the simple, almost featureless carving of the Faded Warrior, with his obsidian-studded macuahitl sword by his side; the glittering mass of obsidian shards that made up the Wind of Knives.

  I made my way through the storehouse, my torch falling on the piled riches: on the quetzal feathers and ocelot cloaks, on the jade and silver which safeguarded us from the underworld…

  I felt as though I had spent an eternity in this place; and still I had seen no animals. The nahual trail in the courtyard would be vanishing further and further; and so would my chances of finding Eleuia alive. Unless…

  Near the back were
a series of wooden cages. I quickened my pace – but when I shone the torchlight on them, I saw that they held only owls, as predicted.

  Tlaloc's lightning strike me, did we have nothing but this? I shone the torch left and right, hoping to see more than hooting birds.

  There. Near the back, two wooden cages held weasels. They pressed themselves against the bars when I shone the torchlight on them. They weren't Mixcoatl's favourite animals, but they would do.

  I transferred them both to the same cage, and went back to the calmecac.

  In the courtyard near Eleuia's room, I knelt in the darkness, and traced a quincunx on the ground with the point of my dagger: the fivefold cross, symbol of the universe and of the wisdom contained therein. I put myself in the centre of the pattern, and started singing, softly, slowly: