Age of Aztec

NINETEEN

Same Day

They exited the refectory, leaving behind a baleful silence.

“I didn’t make myself any friends back there, did I?” said Stuart.

“Don’t judge them too harshly,” said Quetzalcoatl. “They’re not in the most forgiving of moods at present. They’re not sure why we’re back here after all this time, even though I’ve convinced them it’s essential. They felt this particular exercise was long over and done with. They don’t like treading over old ground.”

“Whereas you…?”

“Whereas I feel we have unfinished business, and so do they, really, although they don’t want to admit it. We haven’t served the people of Earth as well as we ought and what’s being done in our name now isn’t right. There’s amends to be made. And so some of us, a handful of the pantheon, have returned.”

“Okay,” said Stuart as they climbed a flight of stairs to a higher tier of the upside-down, inside-out ziggurat. “From now on I’m going to take you, and everything you say, at face value. Frankly I don’t know why, as I think you’re bonkers, all of you. But you yourself seem decent enough, underneath it all. I don’t get the ‘oh-so-superior’ vibe off you that I get off the others. Or not as much of it.”

Quetzalcoatl smiled. “What would it take to make you believe?”

“A lot more than you’ve got. So: ‘unfinished business.’ Elucidate. You gods took off some five hundred solar years ago, allegedly. You’re back now. Why?”

“Why did we go, or why have we returned?”

“Either. Both.”

“If you know anything about us, you know why we went. My spat with Tezcatlipoca. The Smoking Mirror and I fought after he practised his foul deceit on me, when he got me intoxicated and gulled me into… Well, I don’t have to tell you what I did.”

“Shagged Quetzalpetlatl. Little sis.”

Quetzalcoatl winced. “Please. I don’t care to be reminded. I confronted Tezcatlipoca the morning after and we ended up brawling like tomcats. I was in a towering rage, though mainly at myself, not him. He’s a born trickster; he couldn’t help his own nature. I, who hold myself to a higher standard of behaviour, should have known better.”

“And when the dust settled, you were so embarrassed you felt it was time to go.”

“I’m still embarrassed, even after all this time. We had so much left to do, so much more to show the people of earth, so much more to give you. The Aztecs were meant to be just the beginning. They at the time were the most interesting nation on the planet, which is why we chose them. Not the most technologically astute — that would be the Chinese — nor the most culturally sophisticated — that would be the Italians — but they had a self-confidence that was remarkable, and a knack for adaptability, not to mention a ferocious drive. They were to be our starting point, whence a wave of advancement and progress would ripple outwards until it encompassed the globe. That was the plan, and Tezcatlipoca’s mischief and my own lack of self-restraint ruined it. We left with the project still running, partway done but nowhere near complete. It was an egregious mistake, as we’ve since learned.”

They mounted the next staircase.

“And now you’ve come to fix it,” Stuart said.

“If we can. What the Aztecs have done since we departed, what they’ve become, is not what we envisaged. The growth of this vast, sprawling, cruel Empire of theirs is the last thing we expected to happen, or wanted to. Rather than the Aztecs helping others with the gifts we gave them — what you call Aztechnology — they took it and used it to conquer and enslave, fashioning the world in their own image. But we still hope the situation can be remedied. The damage isn’t irreversible.”

“It really didn’t cross your minds that, left to their own devices, a bloodthirsty race like the Aztecs would run rampant? I thought gods had foresight.”

“You’re thinking of the infallible, omniscient model of god. That’s not us.”

Another tier up. They were one level below the ceiling, the surface.

“So what are you proposing?” said Stuart. “How are you going to undo what’s been done?”

“We have an idea.”

“Is it a better idea than Xibalba’s?”

“Perhaps. It certainly has a greater likelihood of success.”

“That wouldn’t be hard.”

“We have knowledge, Stuart,” said the man purporting to be divine. “We have capabilities far in excess of those of humans. You’ve seen that for yourself. With luck, though, we won’t have to resort to drastic measures. We’re looking for a peaceful, nonviolent resolution.”

“Which you’re going to try for, but Xibalba has to step aside first.”

“Step aside, or face the consequences.” Quetzalcoatl said this genially enough, but the words themselves were undeniably a threat. A sugar-coated cyanide pill was still cyanide.

“My guess is you want me to act as a go-between,” said Stuart. “That’s the reason I’m here. You’d like me to talk Chel out of going ahead with his plan, so you’ll be free to implement yours.”

“That’s exactly what I’m after. Call it a courtesy. We could simply eradicate Xibalba and have done with it, but we’re giving Chel a chance. Just the one chance. Back off and let us do it our way.”

“I’m not sure I have that much sway with him.” They were now ascending the staircase that led to the topmost tier. “Even if I was willing to do as you ask, I’m the new kid on the block, still an outsider. You’d be better off talking directly to him yourself.”

“Chel respects you. He knows you. I am a complete stranger to him. Also there’s his religious persuasion to consider. I would be repugnant to him — a heathen deity, anathema to all that he believes in. He wouldn’t listen. His faith would give him no choice but to spurn me.”

“I honestly have no idea how I’d broach the subject with him,” Stuart insisted. “I can’t imagine what sort of angle would work.”

“Try. That’s all I’m asking.”

“He’s dead set on killing the Speaker. It’s a point of honour, almost, with him.”

“Impress upon him that, for his own sake and the sake of his men, it would be wiser not to.”

“But if Chel won’t back down…”

“Then, Stuart, my advice to you would be get as far away from this place as you can before the trouble starts.” Again, Quetzalcoatl’s smile did little to mitigate the bald menace of what he was saying. “But I’m confident it won’t come to that,” he added, patting Stuart on the shoulder. “You’re a smart man. You have a way with words. You’ll manage. And here we are: the way back to the world.”

They had reached a final staircase, which rose to a rectangular hatch in the ceiling.

“Now where’s Xolotl got to?” said Quetzalcoatl. “He can guide you back to your encampment, to save you having to search for it yourself. Xolotl!”

There was a thumping of paws as Quetzalcoatl’s doglike companion, summoned by the sound of his name, came bounding out from a nearby corridor. In proper light, Stuart could see that Xolotl was truly ugly as dogs went. He was lumpenly muscular and sparsely furred, with long gangling limbs and a head that was far too round and big. Worst of all, one of his eyes was missing, the socket a puckered mess of scar tissue. He pulled up beside Quetzalcoatl, tongue lolling fatly from his mouth, dripping strings of drool onto the floor.

“Take Stuart back,” Quetzalcoatl said.

“Take Stuart back,” Xolotl echoed in reply, exactly simulating his master’s voice. He turned and looked at Stuart, and Stuart was convinced he saw depths of resentment and contempt smouldering in that single yellow eye.

“I can find my own way — ” Stuart began, but Xolotl lunged past him and up the stairs.

“Take Stuart back,” Xolotl repeated as he climbed. It was remarkable. Reston didn’t see Quetzalcoatl’s lips move. The words actually seemed to be coming from the dog’s throat.

Xolotl touched the hatch with a forepaw. Suddenly there was a rectangular space in the ceiling. The sounds and damp odours of the rainforest drifted in. Trees reared above like cathedral columns, green sunbeams piercing down through their lush leaves like light through stained glass.

“Go on,” Quetzalcoatl said to Stuart. “You’ll be quite safe. Xolotl’s my other half. He won’t lead you astray.”

“All right,” Stuart said, not reassured.

“Best of luck, my friend.” Quetzalcoatl offered a warm, sincere handshake. “We’ll be monitoring your progress, so we’ll know how you get on. I’m sure you won’t let us down.”

No sooner was Stuart out of the hatch than it disappeared. Or rather, a section of forest floor re appeared where the hatch had been. There was undergrowth, ferns, leaf mould. Nothing indicated the presence of a doorway or, for that matter, a massive building buried beneath the soil. Stuart trod on the spot where the hatch was, probing with his foot. Through a layer of mossy, spongy earth he could just detect the hardness of metal, but if he hadn’t known it was there he would never have thought to look for it. Whatever else these bogus gods might be, they were bloody ingenious, he had to give them that.

Xolotl let out an impatient growl.

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Take Stuart back.’ Coming.”

Stuart followed the lolloping one-eyed dog through the forest. Xolotl had a powerful but ungainly stride. He moved as though going on all fours was as unnatural to him as walking on its hindlegs was to an ordinary canine. Holy lore stated that Xolotl was Quetzalcoatl’s deformed twin, a constant reminder to the god that his own brilliant perfection should not be taken for granted. The absent eye, which had burst out of Xolotl’s head of its own accord, was the most obvious manifestation of this, a disfigurement that literally stared you in the face.

Soon Stuart began to hear distant voices — the sounds of the Xibalba camp. He was still no nearer a decision as to what to say to Chel. What could he tell him? That he’d just met a bunch of delusional individuals who had got it into their heads that they were gods? That they were evidently powerful, these madmen, and it might be as well to abort the assassination attempt?

Xolotl halted while he and Stuart were still just out of sight of the camp. He gestured with a forepaw.

“Stuart back,” he said, then about-turned and loped off in the direction they had just come.

Okay, Stuart thought. Not ventriloquism. Something else. Maybe some kind of radio transceiver implant? One that was linked to a device which galvanised the dog’s jaw and made it move in synchronisation with the words?

Stuart had to concede that the people in the inverted ziggurat had access to some highly advanced technology.

But gods?

No. Never.