She smiled. "Don't we all?" Without waiting for my answer, she turned to watch Neutemoc, who was still kneeling by Ollin's cradle.
"He tries so hard to be a good head of his household," she said, with a sigh.
Something unnameable shifted in my chest, until I could hardly breathe. "Yes," I said, finally. "But the way he behaved towards Huei…"
Mihmatini didn't answer at once. Her face had grown dark. "Let's forget Huei for the moment."
I couldn't. "We'll be going out again," I said, finally.
Mihmatini shifted. "Then I'll renew the protection spells on you. Although they really don't hold on you, Acatl. And you–" She looked at Teomitl. "You definitely don't need me to cast a spell on you."
Teomitl's face fell. "You're sure?" he asked. "Another kind of spell, perhaps?"
Mihmatini suppressed a smile. "Men," she said, shaking her head, but she didn't sound angry. Quite the contrary, in fact.
There would be time to work this out later, if we survived.
Once Mihmatini finished casting the spell, we went back into the streets. By then, it was raining heavily. Storm clouds had drowned the sun, and the light falling on the Sacred Precinct was as weak as that of evening, even though it was barely noon.
Teomitl took the lead, filled with his boundless energy. In the gloom, his spell of protection shone like a beacon: a much, much stronger construction that the ones Mihmatini had laid on us.
As we walked, raindrops fell on our clothes, mingling with our hair. With each drop, the protection lessened. I could feel it fading away, a vanishing itch on my skin. Teomitl's protection, though, did not show any sign of corruption. Here, if nowhere else, Huitzilpochtli's power ran strong. We went south, towards the district of Moyotlan and the temple of Chalchiutlicue, making a wide loop to avoid Neutemoc's house and the creatures that would be congregating there.
Finding a boat to take us to the temple was a simple matter: even with the pouring rain, the fishermen were used to taking worshippers to the island. The rain fell unceasingly, until the world above and below seemed to be made of water: an opaque curtain that joined the murky lake under the boat to the clouds above our heads. And every drop, charged with magic, burnt like acid.
"A good time for sacrificing to the goddess," the fisherman said.
"Yes," Neutemoc said, curtly.
Teomitl's face was set in a grimace; he stared at the water. "A good time to remember the old gods."
I had no wish to join the conversation. I sat at the prow of the boat, keeping an eye on the waters of the lake. There was something swimming by our side: something sleek and dark, with a tail that spread out, opening like a flower… As the waters parted under the boat's keel, I heard, with a growing horror, the song of the ahuizotl, rising from the depths of the lake.
"Go forth, go forth to the place of many clouds
To where the thick mists mark the Blessed Land
The verdant house…"
No. I threw myself away from the edge. The boat rocked alarmingly, almost sending us into the water, towards the yellow eyes waiting for us.
With a curse, Neutemoc steadied the craft. "What in the Fifth World are you playing at?" he hissed. "We almost fell into the water."
I knew. The Duality curse me, I knew. I could still see those eyes at the bottom of the lake; and that oddly shaped tail, lashing out towards me. Even through the murk, I'd seen it clearly. It had had the shape of a small, clawed hand: the same hand that had left the scratching marks near Eleuia's empty eye-sockets. My eyes itched, and I felt sick.
The fisherman looked at the water, then back at me. "Leave him be," he said to Neutemoc. "There's evil afoot today."
How perceptive. Ahuizotls. My heart was beating madly in my chest. Well, we didn't have to worry about the Jade Skirt. She knew we were coming.
NINETEEN
The Drowned Ones
The ahuizotl remained in the lake, though its dark shape followed us as we walked around the shore to enter the temple.
To my surprise, there was no priest on watch at the temple entrance. But, in the courtyard, Eliztac himself was waiting for us, his soaked plume of heron feathers drooping on his head.
He grimaced when he saw us. "You shine like wildfires. I presume you're not here to pay homage to Chalchiutlicue."
"In a manner of speaking," I said, cautiously. "We need help."
Eliztac's eyes wandered from Teomitl to Neutemoc. My brother wasn't in Jaguar regalia, but his rigid stance could only belong to a warrior. And the Duality knew what Eliztac made of Teomitl, who currently radiated light like Tonatiuh Himself.
"I think I already told you–" he started.
"We're not here to see her," I said.
As I'd foreseen, Neutemoc stiffened. "Acatl," he said, warningly. "Don't tell me–"
"It was the closest temple," I snapped. And, without waiting for his answer, I said to Eliztac: "I need to get into Tlalocan, into Chalchiutlicue's Meadows."
His eyebrows rose. He looked upwards, at the rain. "Magical water. A bit of an odd season," he said. His gaze was shrewd. He had to see how each drop attacked our protection. "I presume you're seeking guidance."
"In a manner of speaking," I said, again. "But it's urgent."
Eliztac's gaze was sarcastic. "What isn't?" he said. "Very well. If you'll swear to me you're not here to see her, I'll let you in."
It was Neutemoc who spoke. "No," he said. "I won't swear to that." His face was pale, leached of all colours by the darkness, and the rain fell on his cheeks like tears.
Eliztac started to say something; but Neutemoc forestalled him. "I'll see my wife," he said. "And don't think you can prevent me."
Eliztac took us through a first courtyard, and then into a smaller one, closer to the heart of the building. Everything, from the painted adobe walls to the beaten earth under our sandals, shimmered with magic: a thick covering of wards against which the raindrops slid, and became normal water again.
Teomitl had also noticed it. "It's different in here," he said.
Eliztac barely turned. "This place is under the gaze of the goddess," he said. "This way."
At the far end of the courtyard, he stopped before the door of a room, its entrance-curtain decorated with a heron in flight and patterns of seashells.
"I can make my own way," Neutemoc said.
"I have no doubt you can," Eliztac said, gravely. "But I can't leave you alone here."
Neutemoc drew himself up. "Do you think I'll try to take their dues from the gods?"
"I have seen many men do many things," Eliztac said. "Not all of which contributed to the continuation of the Fifth World."
Neutemoc's face darkened. "You–"
He hadn't been in a good mood for a while. I could understand why, but it might all have ended badly if someone hadn't lifted the entrance-curtain. The tinkle of bells spread between Neutemoc and Eliztac, stopping them dead.