"I can ask," Neutemoc said. "But unless you can think of something more specific…"
"Anything that would have made him an enemy."
"Still rather broad." Neutemoc grinned with far too much amusement.
"Look, if I knew, I wouldn't be here. I don't think it's anything obvious, like people who couldn't stand him as a warrior. If it were, we'd have found out by now. It has to be something more insidious; some secret of his past we haven't found."
Neutemoc sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
Afterwards, I walked with Mihmatini in the courtyard, under the gaze of the white moon – Coyaulxauhqui, She of the Silver Bells, who was the Southern Hummingbird's sister and His bitterest enemy.
"He loves you," I said in the silence. "But–"
"But not enough to listen to me? I don't know if that's love." She sounded miserable. "He's doing a foolish thing."
"The gods come first." They always did – except my own god, who always came last. "The Mexica Empire comes first."
Mihmatini shivered. "He belongs to the Southern Hummingbird after all, doesn't he?"
I was silent, for a while. "You have to realise it's not only the Southern Hummingbird who drives the Mexica forward. The other gods feast on our offerings as well, and would crush anyone foolish enough to try and get in their way."
"But other people would make them just as well, wouldn't they? We're not the only ones worshipping Tlaloc the Storm Lord, or Xochiquetzal."
"No," I said. I stopped by the pine tree, ran a hand on its rough bark, breathing in the smell of crushed needles and dry wood.
"It's not fair."
"It's not about fairness. It's about balance first."
"And you believe that?"
"Yes." I had to – or what else could I cling to? "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. That's the problem, Acatl – I just don't know." Her face in the moonlight was gentle, and she seemed not so much the Guardian or a priestess, but just my sister, as bewildered as the day the dog had bitten her. "There has to be something…"
I didn't know what to say. I could have lied, and told her it would get better, but that would have been wrong.
She sighed, at length. "Never mind. Let's see what tomorrow will bring. Good night, brother."
"Good night."
I emerged from dark, deep dreams of the plague sweeping through Tenochtitlan – among which swum Acamapichtli's blind face, his hands questing for my own, never quite meeting them – and found myself in a sunlit room, with one of Neutemoc's slaves waiting by my sleeping mat. "Acatl-tzin, there is someone to see you."
"Someone?" I rolled over painfully – I no longer needed the cane to stand up, but I did still feel as though I'd been pummelled repeatedly. "I'll be outside in a moment."
Alone, I pulled myself upwards – reached out for my obsidian knife and offered up my blood to the Fifth Sun and Lord Death.
I didn't know who I had expected – Ichtaca with further news, perhaps, or the She-Snake, come to apprise me of yet another disaster. But the person waiting for me in the courtyard was Xiloxoch – her face painted the yellow of corn, her hair unbound like that of a young courtesan about to dance with warriors. "Acatl-tzin." She smiled, uncovering rows of black-stained teeth – unfortunately for her, so much seduction was wasted on me. I had once faced the goddess she worshipped, and compared to Her raw power, artifices were rather paltry.
"I hadn't expected to see you again."
She raised a thin, artful eyebrow. "Why not?"
"The She-Snake's guards are looking for you."
She had the grace to look amused. "Let them look. It's you I've come to see."
"To mock me? I'd have thought you'd played your part," I said.
"My part." She tossed her head back, in the familiar fashion of courtesans trying to appear coy. "And what do you think my part is exactly, Acatl-tzin?"
"False accusations. Sowing discord." When she said nothing, I added, "And attempting to steal sacrifices."
That got a smile, if nothing else. "Please. I wouldn't attempt to scrape corn from the belly of another god. The sacrifices were merely… irresistible."
Irresistible. The proximity of death; of godhood – and something else, something in the way she said it… What hadn't I seen? "Sex," I said, flatly.
"I prefer the term 'lust'," Xiloxoch said. She smiled again, stroking the pine tree as she'd hold a lover's arm. "My mistress takes power where She can."
Small, paltry offerings of semen and vaginal secretions – nowhere near full blood sacrifices, but perhaps enough to keep an exiled goddess satiated.
"I could call the guards," I said.
"Ah, but will you do such a thing, without even listening to me?"
"Perhaps I don't want to listen to you," I said. But my curiosity was too strong – even though I suspected she was going to feed me more lies. "Fine. What do you want?"
Xiloxoch tossed her head back. "Oh, Acatl-tzin. This isn't about what I want. This is about you."
"You have nothing I want."
"Do I not?" Her eyes were mocking – and for a moment, they reminded me of Xochiquetzal's burning gaze, of Her face in the moment She'd risen from her low-backed chair to confront me, the embodiment of a force beyond human imagination or control. "Or perhaps I do. Perhaps it's time to make alliances, Acatl-tzin."
"Alliances." I dragged my voice back from where it seemed to have fled. "Alliances. I don't need help."
"You don't? I'm glad to know you have a good understanding of what's going on, then." Her lips quirked up. "Tell me you do, and I'll leave you alone."
And she knew very well that I wouldn't, the Duality curse her. "What are you offering?" And at what price?
"A little help," Xiloxoch said. "A little… destabilisation for certain parties."
"You speak in riddles."
"Of course." She smiled again. "Why should I make life easier for you?"
"Then why are you helping me at all?"
She smiled again; her blackened teeth seemed to have turned into the maw of a jaguar. "Because I don't particularly appreciate any of the sides taking part in this. Because as long as you're all weak, Xochiquetzal is strong."
And as long as she could lead us astray, she would. "You'll forgive me for not feeling particularly trusting."
"No matter." She leaned against the pine tree, looking at the sky. From the slaves' quarters came the rhythmic sound of maize being pounded into flour. "I'll give it to you regardless."
"At what price?"
"I told you. As long as everyone is busy…" She opened out her hand, revealing a bundle of cotton clothes. "I thought you might want to see this."
When I took it from her, I felt the weight of Chalchiuhtlicue's magic, a smell like brackish swamp water, or the bloated flesh of drowned men. Carefully, I unwrapped it, and found a torn feather quill, filled with powder, which looked for all the world like the one Palli had found on Eptli's body. Except that the powder was a different, richer colour, more dark orange than yellow: I'd have said cacao, except that it was not dark enough for that.