In that place, in that time, I sank to my knees with Tizoc-tzin cradled against me, watching as if from a great distance, watching the Fifth Sun's grin grow wider and wider, as if He had always known I would fail, feeling, distant and cruel, Itzpapalotl's amusement, and Teomitl's frantic attempts to understand what was going wrong.
Surely I could set my feelings aside, for the sake of the Fifth World?
Surely.
But I had no lies or accommodations left, and my contempt was destroying everything. All I had to do was to believe in what I was doing, to see Tizoc-tzin as our worthy Revered Speaker, Quenami as our leader, and Acamapichtli as a peer. Only that, and I would rise, I would give back the breath that was in my body, and everything would be as it should with the world.
But Tizoc-tzin had cast my sister aside as nothing, Quenami had thrown me in jail, and Acamapichtli had tried to kill my brother. In the end, it was the pettiest things that defined me.
The Fifth Sun's light washed over us, strong and unforgiving, like a wave in a storm. I dug my heels in, but I could feel its strength, and knew that it was going to throw me out of the circle.
Too late.
My whole body tingled in the wash of light… No, that wasn't it. There was something that ached more, a dull pain throbbing in my hand. I looked down at Acamapichtli's mark, grey and diminished against the light's onslaught. A jaguar fang, perfectly formed, and the blood of a human sacrifice, all freely given to me. It had been for his own gain, as he had blithely admitted, but still, he had helped me. Still…
I saw again Quenami, his fists clenched, about to get himself killed against Itzpapalotl. He had dragged me to the top of the hill, I and Acamapichtli, even though he'd laughed and suggested we leave the weak behind.
Acamapichtli was smiling in my mind. "We will endure," he whispered. "We will do what needs to be done. We will–"
I hated them. I despised them for their beliefs, and for everything they had done in the name of gain and greed. But, in the end… In the end, Teomitl had allied himself with Nezahual-tzin, and I with Acamapichtli. In the end…
In the end, they were my peers and my equals, and the only ones who could see this through. In the end, when push came to shove and the Fifth World tottered on the brink of extinction – when even they could see the price of failure – I could trust them to do what needed to be done.
And that was the only truth.
"Acatl!"
"I am here," I whispered, and, gently, very gently, breathed out Tizoc-tzin's soul, back into the Fifth World, before joining my fellow high priests for the rest of the ritual.
TWENTY-FIVE
The Fifth World
Tizoc-tzin's formal designation was a small and subdued affair. With his brother's funeral over, and him still in a state of weakness, he simply opted for a quiet ceremony with the governors and the magistrates. The Revered Speakers of Texcoco and Tlacopan, his fellow rulers in the Triple Alliance, offered him congratulations, and sacrificed quails to mark the beginning of an auspicious reign.
Tizoc-tzin wasn't quite yet crowned, of course. That would come after the coronation war, when he had brought back enough prisoners and slaves for a true celebration. But, nevertheless, he was already invested, with enough power to keep us all safe.
After the ceremony he received us in his private quarters. There were no slaves and no noblemen, just Teomitl, Acamapichtli, Nezahual-tzin and I, standing barefoot amidst the luxurious decorations, and the exquisitely carved columns. Fine feathers fans and gold ornaments were casually strewn across the room.
Quenami was beside his master, richly attired, with coloured heron plumes at his belt, blue-and-black paint, and a stylised fireserpent winding its way across the hem of his tunic. The air smelled faintly of pine needles and copal incense, and there was the faintest hint of smoke, causing my eyes to itch.
"I am given to understand that we owe you a debt," Tizoc-tzin said. His eyes were sunken deep, his skin a pale brown, almost waxy, and he stumbled a little on his words. I wasn't sure if it was because something was wrong with his speech, if my delay in the ritual had cost him something, or if it was simply because he disliked uttering them. By the scowl on his face, there was at least some of the latter.
Nezahual-tzin shrugged. "I'm glad to see proper diplomatic relations restored between Tenochtitlan and Texcoco. I shall look forward to your coronation, my lord."
"I see." Tizoc-tzin bent to look at Nezahual-tzin, as if not quite sure what to make of him. "Perhaps you do," he said grudgingly.
"It's in our best interests." Nezahual-tzin's smile was wide and dazzling, that of a carefree sixteen-year-old. I wasn't fooled.
"And you." Tizoc-tzin turned his attention back to Acamapichtli and me.
"We did our duty," Acamapichtli said. "To the Revered Speaker and to the Empire." One of his arms, the one that had thrown the blade at Itzpapalotl, was a little stiff, and I didn't think it would ever move smoothly again. My own legs ached whenever I rose. Whatever Huitzilpochtli had said, there had been a price for entering the heartland. There was always a price.
Tizoc-tzin was silent for a while. His gaze moved from Acamapichtli to me and back again. "Then I am assured of your loyalty."
Not surprising, I guessed. A little saddening, but then I had known when we had brought him back to life. Death had changed nothing in him, no lessons had been learnt.
"You've always had our loyalty," Acamapichtli said effortlessly.
"I have pledged service to the Revered Speaker of the Mexica Empire," I said.
He noticed the omission of his name, that much was clear. His eyes narrowed. I fully expected him to demand something more of me, some show of obeisance, but he didn't.
"I see," he said, again. "So that's how things are." He leant back, his back straight once more, and turned back to Quenami. "The council is still empty, and we have to see about appointments. Teomitl?"
Teomitl rose from his crouch. For a moment, he and Tizoc-tzin faced each other, and I wasn't quite sure what I read in their gazes. It wasn't love, or even respect. Perhaps simply what my brother Neutemoc and I shared – the knowledge that, no matter how distant we might be, how difficult we might find getting on together, we still shared the same blood.
At length Tizoc-tzin nodded. "I need a Master of the House of Darts."
"I don't think–" Teomitl started.
"Nonsense. You'll do fine," Tizoc-tzin said. "If I can't trust family–"
"That's not the problem." Teomitl's face hovered on the edge of divinity again. "You know what's wrong."
"Do I?" Tizoc-tzin looked at him for a while more. His pale face was unreadable; his skin pale and translucent, enough to reveal the bones and the shape of the skull. He'd died. He'd come back. We couldn't pretend things were normal. "We'll have to see about another appointment for her. Some gift of jewellery or perhaps a grant of land. It would be unseemly for my brother to marry beneath him."