"It's dangerous business," Echichilli said, querulously. "The world has changed too much. The young just don't remember how fragile the balance is."
"Did she come to see you yesterday?" I liked Manatzpa, but that did not mean I was going to act as a fool where he was concerned.
"He and the rest of the council." His voice was thoughtful. "She asked us many questions. A canny one, that Guardian. Her heart and soul were in the right place. A pity."
Not so much a pity as a crime, and one that I was going to make sure was punished. "I see." I remembered the question I'd failed to ask Quenami. "Does the name Pezotic mean anything to either of you?"
They shared a glance, a distinctly uncomfortable one. For the first time, Echichilli looked angry, a slight tightening of his wrinkled, sun-tanned face, but an expression that was almost shocking coming from him.
"Yes," Echichilli said, looking me in the eye all the while. "He had a disagreement."
"With whom?" I asked. Manatzpa, too, looked distinctly exasperated, as if some boundary had been breached. What bees' nest had I sunk my hands into?
Echichilli shook his head. "With the council. He was dismissed."
"I thought you couldn't dismiss anyone," I said, very slowly. But it was Quenami who had told us that. Quenami, who wasn't a member of the council, who interfered where he wasn't needed.
"There are exceptions. What he did was unforgivable."
Manatzpa shook his head. "You know it wasn't."
"Wasn't it?" Echichilli looked him in the eye, until Manatzpa's glance slid away, towards the painted floor at our feet.
"What in the Fifth World are you talking about?"
Manatzpa shrugged, but the taut set of his shoulders made it all too clear how angry he was. "Pezotic was worse than Ocome – or more honest, depending on how you view matters. He couldn't stomach the threats, the constant intimidations."
"He ran away?" I asked. It seemed too simple, too innocent. Or was I becoming as paranoid as Tizoc?
"Yes," Echichilli said. "Rather than face his responsibilities." It had the ring of absolute truth – no evasion, no attempt to look aside, or to look me too much in the eye – a simple fact, and one that both saddened and angered him. "I had thought him a better man."
"He was a clever man." Manatzpa's voice was bitter. "He knew where this would lead us."
Echichilli said nothing. Both he and Manatzpa looked drained, their skin as paper-thin and as dry as that of corpses, their stances slightly too aggressive. I assumed there had been further threats, further attempts to bring them to support one candidate or another. But that was one area I couldn't help with. My hands were full enough as it was.
I thought again on what Xahuia had told me – the priest's name branded into my mind. I could assume it was bluff and go question him, but I would have to get out of the palace and back to the Wind Tower, and this would take me time, time I might not have. Ceyaxochitl's removal suggested that the summoner of the star-demons was readying himself for another strike.
So, start out by assuming Xahuia had told the truth; and I couldn't imagine she'd tell a lie, not on something so easily verifiable. Assume she had got Ocome's promise that he would shift sides to hers, without revealing to anyone where he truly stood.
Then the one person who stood to lose the most was the one whose side Ocome had supported, Tizoc-tzin, the heir-designate.
Unfortunately, he was also the man who had threatened to have me dismissed from the court altogether. And, without his brother Teomitl to stand for me, any audience I sought would end in disaster.
But still, he might well be behind it all, and I couldn't stand by while he swept to power under the cloak of Axayacatl-tzin's approval.
How would I face Ceyaxochitl, if she ever recovered?
What I needed was an ally, or at any rate someone who made sure that I came out of Tizoc-tzin's chambers without losing anything. Manatzpa was not nearly powerful enough; it had to be one of the other contenders for the turquoise-and-gold crown.
My heart was not up to asking Xahuia or Acamapichtli. Given how my last interview with the High Priest of the Storm Lord had ended, pacifying him would be nigh impossible.
The She-Snake, then.
I headed towards the She-Snake's quarters. They were in a courtyard symmetrical to the imperial chambers, on the other side of the palace – as befitted the symmetrical roles of the Revered Speaker and the She-Snake.
Unfortunately, when I arrived there, the She-Snake had left for his evening devotions. I asked when he would be back, and was met only with a shrug.
"I wouldn't bother, if I were you."
I turned, slowly. Acamapichtli was standing behind me in the courtyard, dwarfed by his headdress of heron feathers. "Why?" I asked. The last time I had seen him had been his argument with Teomitl, which had ended with his walking out of the room. He seemed calmer now, although he still appeared tense.
He made a quick stab of veined hands. "He won't see you. He doesn't receive anyone but his followers."
"And you don't count yourself as such."
Acamapichtli rolled his eyes upwards. "That much should be obvious."
"Which side are you on, Acamapichtli?"
"I don't think I'm obliged to say that to you."
"It might demonstrate goodwill," I said, a little sarcastically.
His eyes narrowed. "I'll admit I was wrong to leave yesterday. But I didn't have to answer those questions, especially not in the way your student asked them."
His admission was bald, made without a trace of shame, and it was like a blow to the solar plexus. Out of all the people I'd expected an apology from, he was the last.
Since I remained silent, he went on, "I'm not trying to overthrow the Fifth World. I never was."
"You act oddly for someone who isn't."
"Allow me a little mystery." His voice was sarcastic.
"This isn't the time for that."
"What do you want to know?" He drew himself up, wrapping his blue cloak around him. "That I'm ambitious and do things for my own benefit? That is true. That I don't approve of Tizoc-tzin or the She-Snake?" The way he spat the words left little doubt as to what he thought of them.
"I can't take your words on this," I said.
"Then take my acts."
"Fine," I said. "Then tell me about the envoys."
He smiled, and bowed, a little ironically. "Perhaps you could call them mine. I wouldn't swear to anything before any god or any human court, of course."
I fought to keep my fists from clenching. "Suppose they were yours. Why would they come back so regularly?"
"He was a man who needed watching."
"Even if he wasn't yours?"
"Especially if he wasn't mine," Acamapichtli said. "You seem to overestimate the council, Acatl. They might have responsibilities and grand-sounding names, but in the end, they're nothing more than men too old to go to war."
"Tizoc-tzin isn't old," I said. And Teomitl, if he became Master of the House of Darts, wouldn't be either.