My mind could not seem to focus on anything. It drifted, watching the frescoes blur and merge into each other. Huitzilpochtli's blue-striped face loomed larger and larger, shifting into the grin of a star-demon, and the darkness swarmed over me and swallowed me whole.
• • • •
In my dreams, I stood on one of the hills around Tenochtitlan, garbed as a High Priest in my cloak embroidered with owls and the skull-mask over my face.
By my side stood other high priests, Quenami in jaguar skins and Acamapichtli with his heron-plumes, and others, lesser ones I could not recognise. Above us were the stars, blinking slowly and coldly; and they were coming down, one by one, trails of light against the dark sky, growing larger and larger, until we could see the eyes in the joints of their elbows and knees, feel the cold of their passage. The sun had faded into darkness, and the earth underneath rumbled, splitting itself apart…
There was a chant, in the background, harsh, sibilant words in a language that I had heard before and couldn't place. And then, as everything split apart in a shower of sparks, I could finally make it out.
"From darkness I call you
For the broken, for the discarded
For the imprisoned, wailing in the world below
The world is desiccated bones, twisted and gaunt faces
It is the time of my mastery
The opening of my reign."
And I knew, too, where I had heard them: they were the words of the invocation Manatzpa had been attempting to make to defend himself against the star-demon – words no one but a devotee of She of the Silver Bells should have been able to use.
I woke up with a start, my heart hammering painfully against the confines of my chest. I felt stiff and sore; but when I attempted to move I only felt the dull, distant pain of healed wounds. It looked as if the priest of Patecatl had indeed come, and healed me while I was asleep – leaving me whole but weak and drained of everything. Great.
The dream remained hovering at the edges of my mind. But, like ice brought from the mountains, it thawed, leaving its revelations mercilessly clear.
Manatzpa. No wonder he had been angry when I had questioned him about his allegiances; no wonder he was willing to temporise, if it would buy the return of his goddess – to lie, to smile, to poison Ceyaxochitl to prevent her from prying any further.
Which meant…
I cast a glance at the empty bowl. I wasn't feeling any worse, but Ceyaxochitl had not felt the symptoms for a few hours after her return. There was no telling–
Enough. If he had poisoned me – and I could not see why he would take such a risk, not when he had defused my suspicions so deftly with the mention of Teomitl – then there was nothing I could do. Yaotl had said there was no antidote.
In the meantime… in the meantime, I lay alone, exhausted and defenceless with a sorcerer, a murderer and a poisoner as my sole company.
The Duality curse me, where were the other high priests when you needed them?
There was no way in the Fifth World I could get out discreetly. In my current weakened state I wouldn't stay up long, and Manatzpa would catch up with me fast.
Not to mention the possibility he'd summon a star-demon, of course. But, even keeping to mundane happenings, the odds did not look good.
If the priest of Patecatl had already come, then the only person I was still waiting for was Teomitl – but he still hadn't come back.
I was going to need all of the gods' luck if I wanted to survive the night.
I must have slept, sliding in and out of consciousness, waking up with a vague dread before remembering my predicament, muttering confused prayers and letting darkness overtake me again. I dreamt of coldly amused stars watching me, of the gods turning Their faces away from the city, of Tizoc-tzin's coronation under the Heavens where shone a bright, cold moon that kept growing larger and larger against the thunderous rattle of huge bells…
I woke again, and the sky through the pillars was grey. Huitzilpochtli grinned at me from the frescoes, far away and powerless, resting in the heartland with no care for us. The air was bitterly cold. I shivered, and drew my cloak closer around me.
"I see you're awake."
I had half-expected the voice, what I had not expected was that it would come from so close to me. It took all the nerves I possessed not to jerk in surprise. "Manatzpa?"
He was sitting across from my sleeping mat. A bowl of maize porridge lay between us, along with dried algae. His face in the dim light was unreadable. "I brought you breakfast."
"Someone…" I fought to part my tongue from the palate where it seemed to have become stuck. "Someone has come."
Manatzpa looked curious. "Yes. The high priests, the She-Snake and the Master of the House of Darts. They brought a priest of Patecatl with them, but couldn't wake you up even after the healing. I told them it wasn't worth disturbing you."
Quenami, Acamapichtli, the She-Snake and Tizoc-tzin – all the help I could have expected, but he had sent them away. No one would come back before daybreak. "And Teomitl?"
Manatzpa's eyes narrowed. Did I seem too eager to leave? He could not possibly have guessed that I knew. "I feel like I'm imposing on you," I said, with what I hoped was my most embarrassed smile.
"Not at all." His lips curled up, in that peculiar approximation of a smile. "Anything for the High Priest for the Dead. It's people like you that keep us safe."
He would know, of course. I lowered my gaze, as if embarrassed. In reality, I was wondering if Teomitl had come or not, if I could expect him.
Not that it mattered. I made as if to rise, but could not find the strength.
"Acatl-tzin." Manatzpa shook his head. "Surely you can't think of leaving so soon. Look at yourself."
"I have duties," I gasped, falling back on the sleeping mat.
"Your duties can wait." His eyes were dark, knowing. "Have some maize porridge."
And some poison? "I don't feel very hungry," I started, but when I saw the shadow steal across his face, I knew I'd gone too far. If he hadn't been suspicious before, he was now. "But I do appreciate all the trouble you're going through for my sake." I reached across, took the bowl, and raised it to my lips, hoping that I wasn't courting my own death.
The porridge was hot and spicy; my lips tingled from the first sip, but surely it was just my imagination? It couldn't possibly be that fast-acting.
Better not tempt luck, though. I took a few sips, made a face like a sick man who has discovered he can't stomach food so soon, and carefully laid the bowl down again. "I'd have thought a man of your stature would have slaves," I said.
Manatzpa shrugged, an expansive gesture that racked his whole frame. "I have several, but they're often on errands. I'm young enough to take care of myself, Acatl-tzin."
He sounded uncannily like Teomitl. If circumstances had been different, I might even have liked him. As it was…