Outside the Serpent Wall which framed the Sacred Precinct, it was easier to breathe: a clear area had been left between the wall and the first adobe houses. I ran east along the Serpent Wall, towards the Imperial Palace.
Emperor Axayacatl-tzin had built this massive, two-storey building on his accession: a sprawling mass of courtyards, gardens, tribute storehouses and noblemen's apartments, it extended over half the length of the eastern Serpent Wall. The Palace not only housed the Emperor and the high-ranking noblemen of the Mexica Empire, but also the tribunals for freemen, warriors and non-warrior noblemen.
A short flight of polished limestone steps led up to one of the entrances. To the right of the steps was a small platform where the prisoners waited for their trial, crouching in low wooden cages. Neutemoc was in the first of those, still wearing his Jaguar regalia. His bloodshot eyes suggested he hadn't slept much in the previous night.
When I approached, he started to straighten up and almost banged his head against the ceiling of his cage. Something fluttered in my chest, some obscure guilt for failing him.
"Brother," he said.
I'd expected him to be furious, but he was obviously too weary for that. "Hello, Neutemoc. What are you doing here?"
He snorted. "Do I look as if I know?"
My eyes scanned the platform behind him. I finally saw Yaotl, coming towards me at a leisurely pace, smiling ironically, Huitzilpochtli blind the man. Ceyaxochitl was behind, deep in conversation with a magistrate and a priest I didn't recognise.
"I'll be back," I said, and climbed on the platform to meet Yaotl.
"Acatl," he said, bowing slightly.
I did not bother with pleasantries. "What's the meaning of this?" I didn't wait for him to answer, either. "You tell me I am in charge of this, you tell me I should get some sleep, and the moment I leave you start indicting him!"
Yaotl nodded. "Not much choice."
"Choice?" I looked at the priest with Ceyaxochitl. His blue-streaked face was unfamiliar; but his cloak was finest cotton, embroidered with frogs and sea-shells.
A priest of Tlaloc, God of Rain. And if he was not high in the hierarchy, he was close to someone who was. "I'm not sure I–"
"I think you do," Yaotl said.
Ceyaxochitl bowed to the priest and to the magistrate. The magistrate headed back into the Imperial Palace, while the priest walked away, back towards the Sacred Precinct.
A priest of Tlaloc. Even if Huitzilpochtli was now the only guardian god of the Mexica Empire, the priests of the Storm Lord still wielded considerable political power.
"Politics." The word left a sour taste in my mouth. "Someone wants a culprit?"
Yaotl nodded. "It has to be solved, and fast."
I watched Ceyaxochitl walk towards me. "That priest forced you to do this?" I asked.
She had the grace to look embarrassed, but not for long. "I'm a Guardian, Acatl. I don't make the laws."
"You promised–" I started, and realised how childish I sounded.
I settled for "Neutemoc can't be charged. He's innocent."
"You can't know that."
Sometimes, I hated her shrewdness.
"He's still entitled to a trial, Acatl." Ceyaxochitl leant on her cane, looking old and frail in the sunlight. Healing Emperor Axayacatltzin must have been sapping her energy. And yet she'd still stayed up last night to help me. "It's not over yet."
I turned, briefly, in Neutemoc's direction: sitting in his cage with his knees drawn together, he was the living image of the defeated warrior. "It's late for him," I said. "Very late. What's to say the magistrate won't have the same attitude as you?"
"He wouldn't dare," Ceyaxochitl said. "Penalties for corruption are severe."
She was deluding herself. If she, the Guardian of the Sacred Precinct, had given in to pressure, why should a mere magistrate resist? But I didn't say that. I simply asked, "Who's the priest?"
"His name is Nezahual. But he speaks for his master: Acamapichtli, High Priest of Tlaloc."
I'd thought so. "Acamapichtli wants a conviction?"
Ceyaxochitl shook her head. "He wants revenge, Acatl."
I mulled on this for a while. "He supported Eleuia's nomination as Consort, I presume." Politics. A word that could only be spat. Priests should serve the gods, not indulge in base power-grabbing.
It was a useless fight: every priest cherished the hope of serving at the Imperial Palace. I'd seen that, all too well, back in calmecac school; it had been one of the reasons why I'd turned my back on the most prestigious priesthoods, those of Huitzilpochtli or the Storm Lord, and chosen to make a living as a priest for the Dead, beholden to no one but grieving families.
Ceyaxochitl was watching Neutemoc. "High Priest Acamapichtli had an interest in her. He doesn't like losing pawns."
For some reason, Teomitl's face came back to me, shining with admiration for Eleuia. "I hope his interest was only political," I said, darkly. "She looked as if she was drawing attention, and not because of her talents."
"For some of them, at any rate," Yaotl said, with an amused smile. "You forget that she served the Goddess of Lust."
My fingers clenched of their own accord. "I don't find this funny."
"A shame," Yaotl said.
Ceyaxochitl banged her cane on the platform. I winced. Below the platform, a few passers-by had gathered to watch us: Eagle Knights in their feather uniforms, artisans carrying birds' cages and bars of silver, housewives with their ceramic wares on their back. "Enough, both of you," she said. "Acatl, I apologise for the discomfort, but I had no choice. And neither have you."
"It doesn't mean I'll bow down meekly," I snapped.
Her gaze was wryly amused. "I didn't expect you would. Have you made progress?"
She meant well, but I still didn't feel I could share information with her. "Yes."
Her lips tightened. "I see. We'll leave you to it, then."
"Stay out of it," I said, as calmly as I could. "No more interference."
"I can't promise that. I'm not the mistress of High Priest Acamapichtli," Ceyaxochitl said, clambering down from the platform. "You're intelligent enough to realise I cannot."
Yes. I didn't like it, but it was a given that once the High Priest of Tlaloc had started interfering, he wouldn't stop. If I wanted Neutemoc to have a fair trial, I needed to act quickly. I approached his cage, and knelt to peer through the bars.
"No improvement planned on my situation, I take it," Neutemoc said.
I sighed. "No. Not in the immediate future. How are you feeling?" "You have some nerve," Neutemoc said. "You're the one outside, asking the questions."
"Yes," I said. "And I'm not the one who had a long-lasting affair with a priestess, not to mention a child."
"We didn't–" Neutemoc started, then fell silent.
"Neutemoc?" I asked.