The thick torch that illumines the world
Your heat, Your fragrance
We place our trust in You,
We the untrained, the ignorant…"
Next came the maize dough, which Acamapichtli fashioned into the life-sized shape of a man. His hands shook, and the limbs of the figure came out crooked, a fact which made Quenami's face contort with anger, but he said nothing. I fully expected we'd pay for it later.
The face was two holes punched into the dough, and something that might have been a smile: an incongruous sight, given how seldom Tizoc-tzin had smiled when he was alive. It ought to have looked sad and pathetic, this child's figure of a man, but it didn't. Light fell over it, swathing it in the colour of stone and blood; and the face, wrapped in shadows, seemed almost alive, some monster come from the underworld to devour us all.
I'd expected Itzpapalotl to go away but She still leant against the wall furthest away from the stairs, out of the circle. If She'd been human, I'd have said She was curious, but I think it was something else that kept Her there – perhaps further orders from the Southern Hummingbird?
"I give my precious water, I give my blood
To the maize in the fields, to Grandmother Earth that was broke
I give my spirit, I give the sun…."
Acamapichtli sliced both his earlobes, and let the blood drip into the eyes and the mouth of the dough figure.
"Eyes to see the Fifth World, the five directions
A mouth to give thanks
A mouth to fashion the flowers, the songs…"
In the chest cavity, where the heart should have been, there was only a small hole, like that of a flute. Acamapichtli moved away to stand at the base of the body, and left the way wide open for me.
Quenami inclined his head. I walked through the circle to the dead soul and carried it back to the dough figure. Then, bending over, I carefully laid one atop the other. Tizoc-tzin sank into the dough like a man swallowed by quicksand, and the dough shifted, the manikin taking on his features, the bloodied mouth closed in a scowl, an eerie resemblance to the man's favourite expression. It almost seemed as though he was going to speak up; to accuse us all of slighting him. But the only sound was that of our breaths, slow and regular, and Itzpapalotl's claws raking the stone to the rhythm of some unheard hymn.
Quenami placed himself over the opening in the chest, Acamapichtli near the crotch, and I at the head, over the blood-filled mouth.
"We leave this earth
This world of jade and flowers
The quetzal feathers, the silver
Down into the darkness we must go…"
The words that came to me were the ones I had spoken to the She-Snake a lifetime ago, and they were out of my mouth before I could call them back.
"Let the Revered Speaker be no exception."
I bit my lip, but it was too late. Quenami hissed, his gaze narrowing in my direction, but he couldn't speak for fear of breaking the ritual.
I went on regardless, less assured. I hadn't thought it was possible, but I was shaking as hard as if Itzpapalotl had been looking at me with the full force of Her gaze.
"But some return
With sunlight shining on them
With moonlight and starlight to show the way
Some return, some go back home
To the three-legged hearth, to Old Man Fire's face
And the song of maidens, and the laughter of children…"
I knelt and pressed my lips against the dough. It was cool, like something that had rested in the shade for far too long, with the faint, acrid taste of rot. I was vaguely aware of Quenami and Acamapichtli getting ready for the rest of the ritual, for giving the body life, and tying the soul back to it, but even that faded away, as the dough breathed back into me, and harsh light flooded the chamber, until the underground room seemed but a memory.
Over me towered the round, grinning face of Tonatiuh the Fifth Sun – bloodied tongue lolling out, His red hair framed by the signs of the calendar, giant stone glyphs arrayed around Him like a crown. His gaze, His endlessly burning gaze, rested on me, and I slowly became aware that I held Tizoc-tzin's soul in my arms.
It was small and misshapen, like the body, and the light of the Fifth Sun made it seem transparent, as if it would wash it out of existence at any moment.
Somewhere beyond me was Acamapichtli, carrying the living body. Quenami stood in the centre, waiting for us. "Now, Acatl."
I walked, or flew, to him, and so did Acamapichtli, and we were as one. They were pressing against me, Quenami with his insufferable arrogance and conviction that the universe owed him everything, and Acamapichtli, already thinking of ways to turn the situation to his advantage. There was an over-ambitious priest in his temple that he needed to get rid of, and this would be the perfect opportunity…
And Tizoc-tzin.
Small and pathetic and made of fears, of envy, of an uncontrollable ambition that had, as Teomitl had said, eaten him alive. I sought for a man, cowering behind that mask, and could find nothing. No face, no heart. Doubts and fears and suspicion, was this the man we had raised as Revered Speaker? No wonder Itzpapalotl was still waiting, waiting for the Empire to fall, for Her mistress to be free. There was no other place he could take us, he and Quenami and Acamapichtli, all working for their own gain.
Something was wrong. Something…
They were calling my name from far away, and I still held the soul clutched tightly in my grasp, in the Fifth Sun's light, a light that was growing in intensity, promising the heat of the desert, the scouring touch of pyres. What was I thinking? It was the Fifth World at stake. Surely I could force myself to–
But I couldn't. Here, in this time, in this place, in the heart of our strength, no lies were left. I couldn't be one with the other priests, for they were my enemies, and I couldn't bring Tizoc-tzin back, for I had despised him beyond words when he had been alive.
I thought of Ceyaxochitl, making her slow way into darkness. It wasn't fair. Why was Tizoc-tzin – as unworthy of an exception as they came – chosen to be lifted out of death, while she remained in Mictlan? Why did he get to have everything he wanted, in spite of all the damage he had done, all the lives he had carelessly spent, from Ceyaxochitl's to Echichilli's?
Why?
I couldn't.
"Acatl!"
I–
Surely there had to be a way, something I could do. I tried to release Tizoc-tzin's soul, but it wouldn't budge. I tried going to Quenami and felt everything that separated us, every reason I despised him, he who had intrigued and schemed and thrown me into jail and almost executed me. I tried going to Acamapichtli, and saw his power-games and how little he cared about human life, that he would sacrifice anyone and anything standing between him and what he wanted, including my own brother. And I couldn't forgive either of them, or even claim to understand their acts.