We passed many platforms on our way. The Great Temple had been rebuilt several times, each incarnation grander and more imposing than the last, wrapping its limestone structure around the shells of all its predecessors. Altars shone in the darkness, faint smudges on them, the memories of previous sacrifices.
At last we reached the bottom of the stairs, the foundation of the Great Temple, and entered a wide chamber, its walls so covered with carvings that the eye barely had time to settle on one figure before another caught its attention.
At regular intervals lines had been carved into the stone, slight depressions linking the floor to the top of the temple, channelling the blood of sacrifices all the way down to pool on the floor. It reeked like a slaughter yard – even worse than an ordinary shrine, for there was almost no way for the air to escape such a confined space.
The floor itself was a huge painted disk, three times as large as the calendar stone that hung in the shrine above. It lay on the floor – in fact, it was the floor, for it filled most of the room from wall to wall, with only a little space for an altar at the further end. The carvings on it were almost too huge to be deciphered. I could see bits and pieces of them; an arm bent backwards, a severed foot, a gigantic head with a band and rattles, separated from the dismembered torso. There was a feeling of movement, as if all the pieces were still tumbling down from the original sacrifice. Blood coated everything, its power pulsating in the air above the disk like a heat wave.
I knelt by the disk, and carefully extended a hand to touch the edge. There was a slight sound, like the tinkle of silver bells, and I felt the stone warm under my finger, the only warmth in the room, beating like a human heart, pulsating with Her anger and murderous rage, an urge to water the earth with my lifeblood, to tear me from limb to limb and inhale my dying breath, to scatter my essence within Herself until nothing remained…
"Acatl-tzin?"
With difficulty I tore myself from the stone and looked up at Teomitl. "She's still sealed here," I said. Otherwise I wouldn't just be remembering Her rage, I would be dead. The wards still held. The blood magic, renewed with the daily sacrifices of prisoners, was still as strong as ever.
I'd have breathed more easily, had the atmosphere of the room allowed it.
"You're sure," Teomitl said. "It's…" He knelt in turn, though he was careful never to touch the stone. "If She were to break free…"
Then She would regain the control of the star-demons, the creatures She had made in the distant past. She would stride forth as in the days before the Mexica Empire, hungry for blood and human hearts, eager to erase from the Fifth World all memory of Her brother's chosen people.
All gods were vicious and capricious, but Coyolxauhqui – She of the Silver Bells, who had once been goddess of the Moon – was the worst. The others could be cajoled with the proper offerings, bribed into protecting us; we were weak and amusing, but it was our blood that kept the sun in the sky, and our blood that kept Them satiated and powerful. Coyolxauhqui – She was war and fire and blood, and She would not rest until the Fifth Sun tumbled from the sky, and darkness covered Grandmother Earth from end to end, as in the very beginning.
"I know," I said. "But She's not free." Not yet. It was not only the blood of sacrifices that kept She of the Silver Bells imprisoned, but also the Revered Speaker, the living embodiment in the Fifth World of Southern Hummingbird's power.
And, at present, we had no Revered Speaker.
"Come on. Let's go back up," I said.
The return journey was much easier, as we climbed the weight lifted from our shoulders, and the constriction in our chests and necks gradually eased. The air grew warm again, and we emerged under the grey sky before dawn feeling almost refreshed.
Unfortunately, that feeling of relaxation lasted for perhaps a fraction of a moment. "Acatl," a familiar, imperious voice said. "I had a feeling you might be the one getting past the wards."
Of course. I turned and beheld Ceyaxochitl, the Guardian of the Empire, the keeper of the magical boundaries, resplendent under her feather headdress. She leant on a cane of red polished wood that had to have come from the far south, deep into Maya land.
She did not look sarcastic, for once, but by the gleam in her eyes I knew I was in for trouble.
"Star-demons," Ceyaxochitl said, thoughtfully. She had dragged us back to the Duality House, where slaves brought us bowls of cocoa and a light meal of fried newts and amaranth seeds. We sat around a reed mat in a small room at the back of the House, which opened onto one of the more private courtyards, a garden of marigolds and small palm trees. It was silent and deserted even at this hour of the morning, when every slave should have been out grinding the maize flour for today's meals.
As was her wont, Ceyaxochitl did not sit down. she remained standing, towering over us. The slaves finished laying out the meal on the mat, and withdrew, drawing the entrance-curtain closed in a tinkle of bells.
"Star-demons are to be expected," I said. But it was much too soon for them.
"Yes, yes," Ceyaxochitl said. "However, strictly speaking, the heart of the Great Temple is the province of Southern Hummingbird's High Priest, Acatl. Not yours."
"It doesn't seem like Quenami is over-preoccupied with stardemons," I said, with a touch of anger.
Ceyaxochitl sighed. "These are difficult times, Acatl. Fraught with intrigue."
"I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it," I said. Especially not when it risked supernatural creatures in the palace, or in the streets of the city.
"You never did," Teomitl said, with some amusement.
I threw him a warning glance. He might be making progress with the magic of living blood, but we were going to have to work on the respect side of things. "Apart from the impressive costume, you don't look very involved in the succession either."
Teomitl didn't react to the jibe. "I'm not in a position to influence that, so I just keep my head down."
"You're Tizoc-tzin's brother," I said. "Master of the House of Darts, if all goes his way." Though I still couldn't quite reconcile myself to the idea of Tizoc-tzin's ascension.
"Perhaps." Teomitl fingered the jade beads around his wrist – an unusual evasion for him, who always spoke his mind without worrying about the consequences.
Ceyaxochitl banged her cane on the ground. "Let's keep to the original subject, please."
I winced. Our relationship had always been rocky and had not improved much in the past year. When Ceyaxochitl set about to helping you, she would do what she judged best for you, whether you agreed or not. Needless to say, I seldom shared her point of view.
"What more do you want?" I asked. "Someone summoned a star-demon and tore a councillor to death in a heavily warded place. I had to make sure that it didn't come from She of the Silver Bells."
Ceyaxochitl nodded, but it took her some time. "A good idea. But still–"