Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 133, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 805 & 806, September/October 2008

The Girl From the Pleasure House by Simon Levack

© 2008 by Simon Levack

Simon Levack’s Aztec sleuth Yaotl, hero of this new story and several others for EQMM, also appears in four full-length novels: Demon of the Air (winner of the CWA Debut Dagger Award), Shadow of the Lords, City of Spies, and the latest, Tribute of Death. PW praised the series for making “comprehensible a society that seems at first glance alien” and for matching “impressive period research with tight plotting.”

The young priest named Cemiquiztli Yaotl was not in a good mood.

In the Aztec city of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, it was the day of the Feast of Maize and Beans. It was late in the spring, when the light winter rains were a memory and the life-renewing downpours of high summer were a dream. The rivers were sluggish and the roads were hard and dusty.

At no time of year were the ceremonies the priests undertook more important than now. The people of Mexico-Tenochtitlan depended on them to ensure the favour of the rain god; without that, there would be no rain and soon, no food. Nothing could be left to chance or human error; every detail of the rites must be observed, and any priest who was not entirely pure or who might make a mistake, however trivial, must be culled before the festival began. Nobody was exempt, not the youngest novice nor the most infirm old man.

To this end, Yaotl, a skinny young man, who had worn the black body paint and dark mantle of a priest from childhood, had spent five days being tested. He had been starved, immersed in the chilly lake that surrounded the city, had his body pierced with thorns, and been forced to enact pointless rituals. Hungry and exhausted as he was, he had spent each evening making little cairns of dough balls and tomatoes, knowing that if any rolled out of place, he would be punished, and that at this time even so trivial an error could see him expelled from the priesthood, beaten and half-drowned in the lake, and sent back to his family in disgrace.

Every year, Yaotl had passed the tests, sustained by the thought of what his family — in particular his elder brother, an arrogant young warrior named Mountain Lion — would say if he failed.

However, for Yaotl it was the sixth day — the day after the testing was over — that was the worst, because that was when the failures were dealt with. On the sixth day, the poor, dejected figures, the men trembling and with downcast eyes, the boys howling in terror, were pushed or dragged to the edge of the lake. Old and young alike were dumped into the cold water, jeered at, spat on, rolled in the mud, held under the surface until they choked, and finally, left to crawl away, miserable and shivering.

Custom and the will of the gods required him to join in, but Yaotl had never enjoyed it. It was too easy to see himself in the pathetic, slimy creatures whimpering on the shore.

“It’s a harsh business,” he murmured.

Beside him, his friend Telpoch said: “We all took the same test, Yaotl, and they had the same chance we had.” He turned away from the lake, back towards the close-packed houses and smoking temples of the city. “Anyway, here come their families, so it’s all over for them now.”

They watched the little group approaching: anxious-looking matrons bearing rabbit’s-fur blankets, stern fathers, truculent brothers and cousins.

One of the young men stopped in front of them.

“Yaotl? Is that you?”

He was not much older than Yaotl, but already sported a warrior’s lock of hair, and his orange cloak showed that he had taken two captives on the battlefield. For a skilled fighter, though, he seemed curiously unsure of himself.

He also looked strangely familiar. As recognition dawned, Yaotl’s eyes widened, their whites gleaming against the black dye on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, er, need a favour.”

Telpoch said: “Who is this, Yaotl?”

“My brother, Mountain Lion.” Yaotl spoke between clenched teeth. “I suppose he must have thought I’d failed the test and come here to gloat.”

“Yaotl, you’re not listening...”

“Too right, I’m not!” He turned his back.

Telpoch stared at them both. “This warrior’s your brother?”

“The one who used to beat me up, and put live snakes in my breechcloth, and practiced with his throwing-stick by using me as a target. Oh, yes, that’s my brother!”

There was an outraged spluttering from behind him. “You gave as good as you got! What about the time you left a stolen cactus fruit on my sleeping mat and got me held over a fire of burning chiles?”

“Served you right! Come on, Telpoch, we’ve got work to do.”

He took a few steps, but his friend placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Wait a moment. He said he needed a favour.”

“Oh, forget it,” Lion snapped. “I’m not asking that worm for anything. They can burn the top of my head off, I don’t care. If he thinks I’m going to start crawling around his dirty feet...”

“Worms don’t have feet!”

“Yaotl, don’t be childish,” his friend admonished him. “Lion, just tell us what you want.”

“I need help tracking down a demon.”

For everyone but the priests, the festival was rather fun.

The common folk threw parties, inviting their neighbours to feast on maize and bean porridge. They made pots and pots of the stuff, ensuring there was plenty to spare. At night, young warriors and the girls from the pleasure houses would dance from house to house to demand a share.

Mountain Lion had good reason to be pleased with himself. He was tall for an Aztec. His sinews were like ropes coiled around his limbs, the result of years of military training in the House of Youth. His hair and his orange cloak signified the tally of his captives. Lion was everything an Aztec warrior should be: handsome, serious-minded, lean of body, and hard as stone.

“Mother, will you stop fussing over me?” he pleaded.

“I’m nearly done.” The lady’s voice was slightly muffled by the needle she held clamped between her lips as she bent over a small tear in the hem of the cloak. “If you wouldn’t keep treading on this... There.” She straightened up and stood back to admire her son’s appearance. “You want to look your best, don’t you? After all,” she added slyly, “Flower Necklace might be there.”

“What if she is?” Lion bristled.

“I thought you liked her?”

“I may have mentioned her name once...”

“Just once?”

The young man heaved an exasperated sigh. “Can I go now? The others will be waiting!”

“If that paint’s dry, yes.” His mother touched one of the white circles around his eyes with her fingertip “Now, have you got your stave?”

“Yes.” He picked up the maize stalk and shook it.

“And the jar?”

“No, I don’t need one, I can share...”

“Flower Necklace’s?”

“No, my friend Hummingbird Feather’s! Goodnight, Mother!”

His cloak billowed behind him as he swept out of the courtyard. His mother watched him out of sight with an indulgent smile.

The procession wound its way along the city’s highways and canal paths, a high-spirited little crowd of young men and girls out to enjoy themselves. The streets of the Aztec capital were normally silent after dark, when they belonged to creatures of the night, sorcerers and dangerous spirits. Tonight, though, was different, and the most superstitious of the young people could take comfort in their numbers and the light of their torches. Nobody was going to get much sleep tonight, and as they danced, whooped, and chanted their way through the streets, they left a trail of howling babies, yapping dogs, and cursing householders in their wake.

“When I do, when I do, give me a little of your porridge.” Lion sang the traditional, meaningless words lustily. “If you don’t give me some, I’ll break a hole in your house!” The others joined in, swaying more or less in time with the tune, while his friend Hummingbird Feather’s pine torch drew bright circles in the sky and set their shadows whirling.

The only thing that marred Lion’s enjoyment was the way the girl at his side kept bumping into him, thrusting her hip against his as they danced.

By the time Lion had met up with his friends, Hummingbird Feather already had the torch in one hand, a girl on his free arm, and a broad grin. “You can carry the jar,” he had said cheerfully, and Lion had no sooner picked it up by one handle than Flower Necklace had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to seize the other.

He could only glare at his friend and try to ignore his laughter. Watched enviously by his fellow warriors, he could hardly complain if one of the most desired girls from the pleasure house chose to attach herself to him.

When he had first seen Flower Necklace, just a few months ago, he had been as attracted to her as she seemed to be to him. But he had been just back from his first campaign, where at his very first battle he had taken two captives, both of them unaided, and he had been the talk of the city. His head whirling with success and sacred mushrooms, how could he resist the skilful attentions of a trained courtesan?

Unfortunately, it had not ended there, and soon there had been messages smuggled out of the pleasure house, his name called out in the street, and too many chance meetings. It had all been too much. The cochineal that stained her lips and teeth now seemed too red, the indigo dye in her hair too dark, the ochre on her skin too pale, and the figure under the thin cotton of her blouse too full.

Eventually his old mentor Fire Serpent, the Master of Young Men at the House of Youth where he had done his training, had taken him to one side and reminded him that pleasure girls were there for all successful warriors, not just one, and taking one as a concubine was against the law. At that point Lion had decided he ought to say something to Flower Necklace, but somehow the right words had never come.

He turned to her now, as they drew level with the next doorway and the threatening song rang out again.

“Um... Flower Necklace, there’s something I’ve been meaning to...”

Before he could go on, however, the householder had appeared. He was a small, anxious-looking man with the tonsured hair of a labourer or a farmhand. He had a bowl full of watery gruel, although his hands were shaking so much that the stuff kept slopping out onto the earth floor of his house.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he muttered. “Take this, it’s all I’ve got.”

“A likely story!” As Hummingbird Feather shouldered his way to the front of the small crowd, his torch waved dangerously close to the wooden doorposts. The householder’s face, stained yellow by the flickering light, twisted in alarm.

“Look out! You’ll set the place alight!”

Hummingbird Feather glanced at the bowl, which had spilled most of its contents by now. “You can do better than that for the brave warriors who defend your city, can’t you?”

He aimed a kick at the wall beside him, driving his foot clean through the thin plaster. The girl on his arm gasped and giggled.

“Oh, I’m sorry, how clumsy of me. Now look, you’ve got a hole in your house!”

The little man backed away from the door. He looked as though he was about to burst into tears.

“That’s enough.” Lion thrust Flower Necklace away from him and stepped forward, to stand just in front of Hummingbird Feather. He held on to the jar with one hand.

“What do you mean?” The young man with the torch looked bemused. “Look, these people have to show us respect...”

Lion’s free hand moved to the knot in his cloak, shifting it a little on his right shoulder; by touching the orange cloth he reminded his friend who stood higher in the ranks of the warriors. “We asked him for a little of his porridge, Hummingbird Feather. That’s what he’s offered us. We’ll take it. It’s obviously all he’s worth.” He thrust the jar at the man in the house, who silently tipped the last few drops into it. “Now get back indoors and keep out of sight!” Lion advised him, before turning sharply on his heel and walking away.

The other young people stared wordlessly after him.

The procession had become more subdued by the time it reached the next house, the laughter, a little more forced. The crowd had split into two loose groups, one centred on Hummingbird Feather and his girl and the other on Lion and Flower Necklace. Flower Necklace kept cooing in Lion’s ear about how noble he had been at that last house, which did nothing to improve his mood.

“When I do, when I do, give me a little of your porridge. If you don’t give me some, I’ll break a hole in your house!”

This was a more imposing dwelling than the one before, with a newly whitewashed stone wall and a wide doorway opening into a courtyard. A brisk fire threw an unsteady light over the idols lining the walls and the domed sweat bath in the corner. Several people squatted close to the fire, where they could enjoy its warmth and help themselves to warm porridge from a large pot standing over it on a tripod.

Lion noticed that the people in the courtyard were of varying ages. The youngest were children just young enough to be wearing breechcloths under their short cloaks, while the man he took for the head of the household was a tall, vigorous-looking man whose bearing, as he rose and strode unhurriedly to the doorway, might well have been that of a former warrior.

The householder hailed them courteously with the traditional greeting: “You have come far, you are weary. Please rest and have something to eat.”

“That’s more like it!” Hummingbird Feather approached the doorway. “A big improvement on that last place!”

“Now,” the householder went on — and Lion noticed a slight catch in his voice, as though he was suddenly unsure of himself — “there’s just one small problem...”

“Oh, no, not again.” Lion groaned inwardly at the prospect of another confrontation.

The man’s tone was apologetic. “You see, my wife dropped the ladle and broke it. Now she’s gone indoors to look for a cup, but knowing her she’ll have broken all those, too. Stupid woman!” The last two words came out with surprising force. “Take my advice, lads,” he added, with a knowing look at Flower Necklace that made Lion wince. “Make sure you keep your wives in their place. Beat her on her wedding night and every night after that until she gets the message. It saves so much trouble in the long run!”

Lion avoided looking at the girl clinging to his arm. Glancing over the householder’s shoulder, he saw a small, stooped figure in a skirt and blouse emerge from indoors, carrying what looked like a cup. She shuffled towards the fire. None of the people seated around it moved, but she stepped diffidently between them before bending over the pot to dip the cup in it.

Lion gave a warning cough as she came over to the entrance, but nobody took any notice.

“Once they start answering you back, you know you’re in trouble,” the man went on. “And then you find things aren’t getting done. The household gods get dusty, the courtyard’s not swept, the turkeys aren’t fed, and they start breaking things, and the food’s not cooked properly — I have trouble keeping the stuff she prepares down sometimes!”

Lion was not sure whether “they” meant wives or turkeys, although in the householder’s view there did not seem to be much difference; but Hummingbird Feather seemed impressed. “Not to worry, sir. It sounds as if you have enough troubles, and we wouldn’t want to bother you. We’ll have our fill of porridge tonight anyway.” He turned away with an abrupt air of decision that defied anyone else to stay and insist on receiving their gift.

The small woman had reached the doorway. “Husband,” she whispered, “I found a cup.”

“About time, too.” He did not look at her but stretched out a hand to take it.

It never reached his lips, however.

Flower Necklace had been casting venomous glances at Hummingbird Feather’s back. Before Lion knew what she was doing, she suddenly detached herself from his side, stepped forward, snatched the cup from the householder’s hands, and tossed off the contents in one gulp. Then she pressed it back between the astonished man’s limp fingers, before turning and flashing a triumphant smile at her friends.

“There! We’ve got what we came for here, too!” she cried.

“What did you do that for?”

The singing and dancing were over. There was little to do but drift aimlessly from one house to the next, and the rest had gone on ahead, leaving Lion and Flower Necklace alone.

“I wanted to show up Hummingbird Feather and that beast back there!” The girl tossed her head, letting her long, loose hair fly about her neck. “And besides,” she added, touching his arm, “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I’ll be pleased when the sun rises and we can stop playing this silly game,” Lion said morosely. Hummingbird Feather had taken his torch around a corner and its light was just a slight lifting of the gloom at the end of the street. Lion was beginning to feel the night and its attendant terrors closing in on him. All Aztecs were superstitious, and brave warriors were usually among the worst.

She lowered her voice. “Well, there are other games we can play, if you like.”

The young man put his hand to his forehead. He took a deep breath. “Look, Flower Necklace...”

He never finished what he was going to say, however, as that was the moment when all his fears were realised.

If the attack had come along the street, Lion might have been able to meet it. He was used to seeing an enemy rushing at him, sword or spear upraised, mouth wide open in a scream of murderous rage. At the sound of pounding feet on the hard earth behind him, he might have done what he afterwards told himself he should have done: whirled around, seizing the only weapons he had to hand — the maize stalk and the porridge jar — and thrown himself between Flower Necklace and the threat, his own war cry bursting from his lips.

But neither his training nor his experience had prepared him to meet an assailant that dropped on him from the sky.

The first either Lion or Flower Necklace knew of the assault was an inhuman shriek that made them both leap up in fright. For a moment Lion stood, bewildered, head snapping back and forth as he tried to place the sound. It came again, from very close, and then Flower Necklace screamed in turn.

“Lion! Look up!”

Half the sky was hidden by the wall of the house they stood next to. Looming out over the other half, clearly discernible against the stars, was a shape that may have been human.

The scream came again: a quivering, inarticulate, piercing yell. It had not come from a man’s throat. Only a woman or a demon could have made a sound like that.

The jar fell and shattered. Lion saw the shape above him move, and then he lost his head. Forgetting Flower Necklace and his warrior’s dignity, he threw his maize stave aside and fled.

The torchlight had vanished by now, but he ran blindly towards the corner where he had last seen it. When he got there, he skidded to a halt so hard he scraped skin from his bare heel, and stared wildly into the darkness ahead of him. There was still no sign of the rest of the party, however.

“Hummingbird Feather! Wait!”

The cry came again. It was a little farther off now, but Lion had had more than he could take. He set off running again, and did not stop until his breath failed him and he crumpled in exhaustion.

It was not until the following afternoon that the shamefaced young warrior finally made his way home. His mother and father watched him in silence as he limped through the doorway into their courtyard. He said nothing, only wanting to crawl indoors onto his sleeping mat and forget everything that had happened in the night. However, he could not, because between him and the doorway stood Fire Serpent, the Master of Young Men. His arms were folded beneath the black-and-ochre mantle of a veteran warrior. As he eyed Lion’s torn, filthy clothes and drawn features, his expression was grim.

He spoke two words softly. “Flower Necklace.”

Lion’s jaw dropped. “Flower Necklace?” he repeated hoarsely. “What about her?”

“Where is she?”

Lion stared at him. He looked over his shoulder at his parents, but they might as well have been a couple of statues. Turning back to Fire Serpent, he stammered: “I thought she’d run away too. I–I’m sorry. It was the shock. I thought it was a demon, or a sorcerer — coming at me from up there, in the dark — look, I’m a warrior, not... Oh.” His eyes widened in horror. In a small voice he continued: “The demon got her?”

“What demon?” Fire Serpent demanded.

“Nobody’s said anything about a demon, Mountain Lion,” his father said.

“I should have stayed with her,” Lion whispered.

“You have no business staying with her, lad,” Fire Serpent retorted. “I’ve warned you before about trying to keep a pleasure girl to yourself. You’re lucky I got to hear about this in time to try to talk some sense into you. You know what will happen to you both if the authorities find out what you’ve been up to? The warriors will expel you and singe the warrior lock off your head, and she’ll be thrown out of the pleasure house with nothing but the clothes she stands up in.”

Lion’s mother added: “If you tell us where she is, son, then no harm’s done, but you have to let her go back to the pleasure house. Please!”

The young man looked from one to the other of them in confusion. “But I haven’t...”

Fire Serpent sighed. “I’m on your side, Lion. I was young once, after all! But this has to stop. I can cover for you until tonight, but if she’s not back at the pleasure house by then, I’m afraid you’re on your own!”

Hummingbird Feather woke up quickly, rolling off his sleeping mat and twisting his body so that Lion’s second kick caught his hip instead of the soft flesh of his side.

“Get up!”

He was on his hands and knees by now, ready to spring to his feet. “What’s going on? Lion? What are you doing?”

Lion lashed out again, but the other young man dodged and seized his ankle. Lion had anticipated the move, however. Throwing his whole weight onto his free foot, he lurched backwards, dragging Hummingbird Feather with him and leaving him sprawled facedown on the floor.

Lion leapt forward again, dropping onto the other young warrior’s shoulders and pinning him to the ground. The breath whooshed out of his victim.

“What did you do with her, you bastard?”

Hummingbird Feather groaned. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about! Flower Necklace — where is she?”

“The last I saw of her, she was with you! Ow!” The last syllable was jerked from his lips as Lion grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked hard.

“Do you think I’m stupid? You wanted to get back at us for what happened at that first house, didn’t you? And then the stupid girl grabbed that cup from the woman and made you look even smaller. So who was on the roof? That girl you were with? Did you put her up to it?”

“Roof? What roof? Have you gone mad — Lion, stop! You’ll tear my scalp off!”

“And to think I was convinced I’d seen a sorcerer or a demon. You must have thought I was a simpleton!”

Hummingbird Feather talked fast. “You’ve got to believe me. We lost sight of you two just after we’d called at that second house. We’d all pretty much given up on the dance, so we just took the girls back to the pleasure house. Flower Necklace wasn’t with us — the women there all thought she must be with you, they assumed the two of you had hidden yourselves away somewhere private. Just go there and ask anybody if you don’t believe me! I don’t know anything about demons and sorcerers!”

Lion relaxed his grip on the other man’s hair. “But if I believe you...”

“Are you going to let me up?”

After a moment’s reflection the young warrior released his friend. Hummingbird Feather eased himself into a squatting position and eyed Lion warily. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, then?”

He pursed his lips as he listened to the story.

“If it really was a demon, then there’s no telling what’s happened to the girl, is there? She’s probably been eaten. I don’t suppose they’ll even find a body!”

“Hummingbird Feather, please! Can’t you think of anything? I’ve got until nightfall to find her, otherwise I’m a dead man — or I might as well be!”

A grin had spread over the other man’s features as he witnessed Lion’s discomfiture, but it faded as he saw the genuine terror on his face. “Well, if it’s really a demon or a sorcerer that got her, why don’t you get another sorcerer to help you find her? Or maybe a priest?”

Lion shivered, his fear of magic reasserting itself. “Where would I find one of those? Could I trust him? Hummingbird Feather — What is it? What have you thought of?” The last words came out in an eager rush as he caught the sudden lightening of his friend’s expression.

“I’ve just remembered — your brother’s a priest.”

Lion turned pale.

“Oh, no. No, I am not asking Yaotl to do me a favour. I’d rather die!”

“Well?” Lion demanded anxiously. “Can you help?”

Yaotl had punctuated his brother’s tale with a commentary of derisive snorts, short barks of laughter, and mocking grins. Nonetheless he had listened, if only so that he could enjoy Lion’s misfortune to the full.

Telpoch looked at Yaotl. “Don’t you think we ought to help? After all, if there is a demon loose in the city...”

“You don’t go looking for demons, Telpoch — especially during the day. They find you at night, if you’re very unlucky. Our job is to drive them away — that’s why we have to wander in the hills at night with censers and fir branches to burn. Besides, we have duties. Talking of which...”

“No, we don’t,” Telpoch reminded him. “It’s a fast day. We’re not expected to do any work today, and anyway, we can say we were at the market buying paper vestments for the offering priests. Why don’t we go and look at where your brother saw this demon? Aren’t you even curious?”

“No!”

But Yaotl was lying. He looked sideways at his brother and found himself wondering what had really happened. As much as he had always loathed him, he had never seen him show fear before.

The two priests peered at the top of the wall. “I wonder how strong that roof is?” Telpoch said aloud.

“Why, are demons heavy?”

“Who knows? I’ve never tried picking one up!”

Yaotl looked along the path towards where it vanished around the corner. “Hummingbird Feather was up ahead, then?”

“He was out of sight, yes.”

“For how long?”

“It must have been awhile. I couldn’t see the torch when I started running. Not even after I rounded the corner.”

“Well, I don’t suppose Hummingbird Feather had anything to do with this. It sounds like it would have required too much imagination for any warrior I’ve ever met! If he and his girlfriend had been close enough for her to get back here in time to give you your scare, then you’d have seen the torch.”

“Maybe he doused the flame,” Telpoch suggested.

“Doubt it. He’d have had to find his way home afterwards, and I can’t see him waking some householder in the middle of the night and asking if he can rekindle it on his hearth. But we could always ask at the pleasure house if it was alight when they got back there.”

Lion looked nervously at the lengthening shadows. “We haven’t much time left.”

“You haven’t much time left, you mean!” Yaotl laughed unkindly. “Shall I come and fetch you home after they’ve finished with you in the warrior house?”

That was too much for Lion, who suddenly rounded on his brother, seizing him by the throat and shoving him hard against the wall. “Just remember this, you little creep,” he snarled. “After they throw me out, the first thing I’m going to do is come looking for you, and don’t think your black robes and your face paint will protect you!” He tightened his grip and shook the younger man so violently that flakes of soot fell off his skin onto the path.

As Yaotl gasped vainly for air, Telpoch tried to intervene. “Lion, this isn’t helping! Yaotl, please — can’t you try to think of something constructive?”

The only response at first was a choking sound. Eventually, however, Lion left off throttling his brother, who fell to rubbing his throat and groaning. Then he eyed the warrior balefully.

“You’ve got a funny way of persuading people to your point of view,” he mumbled resentfully. “But I did think of something, as it happens.” He pulled himself away from the wall and stepped warily past his brother.

“Where are you going?” Lion demanded.

“Back along your route last night. You’ll have to show me where you went — and tell me exactly what happened at each house you called at.”

The three of them stood by the entrance to the big house where Flower Necklace had snatched the cupful of porridge.

Yaotl peeped into the courtyard, observing the cold ashes where the fire had been, the idols, the sweat bath. There was nobody about.

“Now, tell me again what happened, and don’t leave anything out.”

“I’ve told you twice already!”

“Do you want the girl found or not?”

Lion sighed before going over the story once more. His brother frowned in what the young warrior suspected was mock concentration, but the frown deepened noticeably when he repeated the householder’s words.

“If Father came out with stuff like that about Mother, she’d make him pay for it!” Yaotl said.

“She would.” It was one thing they could both agree on. “But that doesn’t help me, does it?”

Suddenly a grin formed on his brother’s darkly stained features. Lion watched in horror as it grew broader. His fists clenched. “This isn’t funny, Yaotl, and if you still think it is...”

His brother chuckled. “Wrong on both counts, Brother — what our mother would do helps you a lot, and I’ve rarely known anything funnier! Wait here.”

With that, he stepped into the courtyard.

He was gone some time.

To look at Flower Necklace now, Yaotl thought, it was hard to see why she was one of the most popular girls in Mexico-Tenochtitlan. Her face was drawn and her eyes were heavy with fatigue, and under what was left of her makeup, her skin was the colour of ash. Every so often she would suddenly turn and retch into a clay bowl that had been left beside her for the purpose.

The little woman, the householder’s wife, fussed anxiously about her, alternately adjusting her blanket and casting anxious glances at the black-robed priest in her doorway.

“You say she’s your sister?”

“Um, yes, that’s right. They told me she hadn’t come home so I thought I ought to come and look for her.”

“She’ll be all right, you know.”

“I’m sure she will,” he said neutrally. “It’s just something she ate, I expect. We’re very lucky you found her.”

“Will you take her home now? Only my husband’s still out in the fields, and he wasn’t very happy about my taking her in. He didn’t think I should go out there at night at all, but I had to get my cup back!”

“Quite.”

“So, anyway, if she’s not here when he returns, that would be just as well.”

The young man smiled. “Yes, I think she ought to go home. Some members of my family will be very happy to see her.”

He led the silent girl out of the house. At the gateway he paused while she rushed to the canal’s edge to heave emptily into the water, all under the mute, astonished gaze of Lion and Telpoch.

Yaotl laughed. “Demons, indeed!”

Fortitude, Telpoch reflected, was one of the most important qualities of a priest, but he had rarely needed it so much as now. Listening to his friend boasting of his own cleverness would try any man’s patience.

“I can’t pretend I knew all along,” Yaotl admitted, as they squatted in the priest house that night, enjoying the end of the fast and their first food since daybreak. “I’m not that clever!”

“No, really?” Telpoch spoke through a mouthful of leftover porridge.

“But you know what gave it away?”

“Do tell.”

“Lion’s mentioning my mother. There’d been all that stuff the householder said about his wife, and it occurred to me that the little woman would have found some way to get back at him. So she puts something in his food — that’s why he couldn’t stomach her cooking. She doesn’t do it all the time, of course, and it’s never anything deadly: just some emetic root, enough to make him thoroughly miserable.

“She didn’t break the ladle by accident. I suppose they’d had a row and she thought it was time for his medicine. So she found an excuse to go indoors for a cup. She put some of the poison in it, and topped it up with porridge from the pot.”

Telpoch swallowed the last of his food and yawned. “And then Flower Necklace snatched the cup out of his hands before he’d had a chance to taste it.” He wanted to get this over with so that he could sleep.

“That’s right. The poor woman would have been aghast. She knew the girl wouldn’t be seriously ill, but all the same, she obviously thought she’d better look after her, at least until she stopped puking. But it wouldn’t have done just to run after them, would it? She’d have to own up to what she’d been doing.”

“So it was her on the roof.”

“She’s small enough. She scared my brother off, but I expect the girl was too frightened to run away before her stomach started churning.” Yaotl laughed. “It’s funny, but Lion didn’t seem all that happy to be reunited with her, did he?”

Telpoch’s only reply was a loud snore.