Think, think, Southern Hummingbird curse me. "I want to know what you have," I said to Xiloxoch. "Once again, it is a serious accusation that you bear. We can't act prematurely on that."
"I slept with Eptli, once or twice. He made – careless confessions, after he was spent." Her lips twisted. "He was so sure of himself, that one. Didn't think for a moment that the captive would fail to be awarded to him." She spat on the ground; her saliva glistened on the dry earth.
"And you still slept with him." I understood her less and less – was her patron goddess Xochiquetzal behind that? The Quetzal Flower's intrigues tended to be far more vicious and far less complicated than that.
"He was handsome," Xiloxoch said, dismissively. "One might as well pick the prettiest ones."
"That's not a very strong reason," I said. "Why did you pick him, Xiloxoch?"
She shook her head, but did not answer.
"Xiloxoch." Teomitl said – his voice was soft, but it was no longer that of the young, unproven warrior. "Someone has been spreading diseases in the heart of the Mexica Empire. This is also a serious crime."
"I wouldn't know anything about that." Her eyes had flared; her hands clenched. She looked more angry than fearful.
"Why pick Eptli, Xiloxoch?"
"I told you. For justice."
"No," I said, slowly. "That's not what you told us. You said you'd learned of Eptli's transgression only after you slept with him."
There was a soft, green light spreading – Teomitl's aura, giving everything the air of underwater caves. The air smelled of churned mud, with the salty aftertaste of blood – and it was thicker too, clogging in our lungs. I could hear Xiloxoch's rising breath – coming in shorter and more laboured gasps. "Why?" he asked.
Last time I'd seen him try this, he'd almost killed a guard – but things had changed now, and he seemed more in control. Though one could never be sure, with the capricious Jade Skirt.
Xiloxoch's face was pale, her teeth drinking in the light and giving nothing back. "He was such an arrogant, obnoxious man. Thinking all the quetzal feathers, all the jade of the Fifth World were his due. So used to riches he thought they could buy anything."
The quintessential warrior – contemptuous of anything so feminine as sacred courtesans. "In other words, the perfect worshipper of the Southern Hummingbird."
Xiloxoch smiled, but said nothing.
"It's a serious accusation," I said, again. "But, if it's true, then they'll uphold the law, and Eptli will be stripped of rank, posthumously. Warriors were held to higher standards than commoners, by virtue of their higher knowledge and education. The war-council – the heads of the warriors, their role-models in the Fifth World – would be held to even more exacting rules.
"Come on," Teomitl said. "Let's see the magistrate, and we'll sort this out."
I shook my head. The pattern was disturbing: if Xiloxoch's accusations were true, we had three people involved. Eptli had offered the bribe, Pochtic and Coatl had accepted it. Eptli was dead, someone had attacked Pochtic, and Coatl had fallen prey to the same sickness as Eptli. As to the prisoner Zoquitl – the prize in all of this – he had also died.
Whether Xiloxoch's accusations were true or not, someone seemed to be killing off everyone alleged to have taken part in the affair.
Was it someone else associated with Xiloxoch? "Who else knows about this?" I asked her.
She started. "I don't understand."
"Don't take us for fools," I said. "As you said – everyone mentioned has died, or been attacked in some way. I find it hard to believe there is no connection."
Xiloxoch's eyes flicked towards the ground. "I didn't mention it to anyone. Why would I?"
Teomitl watched her intently – I wondered if he saw anything else, with the light of Jade Skirt so strong in his eyes – but at length he nodded. "Let's go, Acatl-tzin. We've wasted enough time already."
I thought, quickly. The coincidence was troubling, but then all the men she had accused were members of the war-council and what better way to sow chaos amongst us than target them – the supreme four, commanders of the army?
"No," I said. "We have more important things to do than this." And, to Xiloxoch: "I'm pretty sure you can find your own way to the military courts."
Her smile was wide and dazzling. "Of course. Don't worry about me, Acatl-tzin."
After she'd left, Teomitl turned to me, his face creased in puzzlement. "We could have–"
"No," I said. "She brought nothing but groundless accusations. I'm not about to give her the pleasure of our approval. Let her face the magistrates on her own terms."
"It's a serious matter."
"You've said it yourself: you noticed nothing."
"Yes, but I'm a fool when it comes to matters like this."
I shook my head. "It's not good enough, don't you see? We serve justice; not whims based on scant evidence." Otherwise we would not be much better than Tizoc-tzin.
Teomitl's face took on some of the harshness of jade again, but it was soon gone. "Fine. I suppose you're right. But if it's not true, then what was she was doing in Zoquitl's room?"
I had a fair idea of what she could have been doing in Zoquitl's rooms – what sacred courtesans did best. She was a servant of the Flower Quetzal, goddess of Lust and Childbirth, and sleeping with a promised sacrifice would not only enable her to honour her goddess, but might also leech potency from the Southern Hummingbird. It was small – one sacrifice out of forty – but the Flower Quetzal would have gladly counted it a victory.
Unless She had more extreme plans? Unless She was once more Tlaloc's ally, seeking retribution on the Fifth World?
"What now?" Teomitl asked, impatiently.
There was something going on – someone undermining the Mexica Empire or Tizoc-tzin's leadership. It could have been Tlatelolco; it could have been Xochiquetzal's followers, but it could also come from inside.
Pochtic had seen his assailant and recognised him, which in turn meant that he had known him. And I didn't think that could apply to either the Tlatelolcan merchant or the sacred courtesan. But Itamatl – the fourth member of the war-council, who had displayed such hatred for Tizoc-tzin… that was a strong possibility.
"There's a man we have to see."
• • • •
We stopped by the kitchens first, to get some flatbreads and fried newts. As we ate, I asked Teomitl about Itamatl.
"Honest man," he said with a shrug.
"He doesn't seem to like Tizoc-tzin all that much."
Teomitl grimaced. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, which was unusual for him. "Itamatl had an elder brother who was on the council."
I winced. "So he's dead?"
"And bound to the Southern Hummingbird, like the rest of the council."
And, of course, it had been because of Tizoc-tzin, and because of his fanatic drive to become Revered Speaker, that the council had died – or, more accurately, had been sacrificed to buy the Southern Hummingbird's favour. "And Itamatl?"