The Demon of the Air

THIRTEEN SNAKE
1

Thirteen Snake was not the most propitious day for a feast, but it was not bad: the auguries told us it would probably not rain, none of the diners was likely to choke on a turkey bone and the honeyed mushrooms ought to make the guests mellow rather than pugnacious. Certainly, I thought, as a boatman slowly poled us-Lord Feathered and Black, Handy and me-along a canal toward the merchant’s house, the gods were playing their part: the whitewashed walls on either side of us glowed warmly in the setting sun, while above them only the frailest wisps of cloud clung to the mountain tops. It was a beautiful evening.

I thought about the task we were setting out to accomplish. From my master’s point of view, at least, it must have seemed simple enough. We had to find out where Curling Mist-or rather, Young Warrior-was hiding the sorcerers, and we were going to do it in essentially the way I had planned the last time I had been to Lily’s house: by offering me as bait, although this time I would not be alone.

From my point of view it was far from simple. As I had told my brother days before, my troubles would really begin if and when we found the sorcerers, and I had to choose whether to help my master to recover them or to try somehow to get them to the Emperor, knowing that either choice might lead to my death.

I frowned, not at the dilemma that I might have to confront, but at a nagging feeling in the back of my head that something was not right. It had something to do with the relationship between Young Warrior and Shining Light, I decided. I still could not see how my old enemy had got the young merchant so completely in his powerthat he would not only hand over everything his family possessed, but would give himself up as a hostage. I wondered whether there could be another explanation.

Old Black Feathers interrupted my train of thought. He was in a chatty mood. “This will be a good night. I haven’t looked forward to a party so much in years. I might even dance.”

“Who will be there, my Lord?” asked Handy.

My master had chosen the commoner to accompany us to the banquet. I had managed to persuade old Black Feathers that a large armed guard would simply scare our quarry off, besides upsetting the merchants; in any event, I had pointed out, there would be enough warriors among the guests.

During my brief absence Handy seemed to have become a member of the household, running some of the errands that would otherwise have been mine. He had a stolid, reliable air that my master seemed to like. He was not afraid of the steward: although I had been confined to my room since my return and strictly forbidden from going anywhere, he had made a point of seeking me out, despite the Prick’s warning not to come near me. He had been anxious to explain that he had had no idea the steward would come for him the day he found me at his house.

“His Lordship had some message he wanted got to Shining Light, and I’m the only one he trusts to carry them …”

“All right, what happened wasn’t your fault,” I had said absently. “The messages were for Shining Light, then? How did you get them to him?”

“I didn’t give them to him in person. I left them at his house.”

That was convenient, I had thought: it meant Lily was still the only person who was in touch with her son or his kidnappers.

When I had asked Handy what had become of Storm and my brother, he had answered me with a grin. “Don’t worry. Star took care of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“While the steward was occupied with you, she hid them both in the same maize bin.”

That was when I had smiled, for the first time in what had seemed like an age, at the image of Lion spitting husks and oaths as heemerged from a dusty wooden bin, to the sound of Star’s helpless laughter.

“Who will be there?” my master mused. “Oh, everyone. All the chief merchants, of course, the Governor of Tlatelolco, his deputy, and a lot of the high officials-including your brother, Yaotl. They always make a point of inviting the Guardian of the Waterfront.”

I wondered whether my master had any idea how deeply Lion hated him. “Everyone always makes a point of inviting my brother everywhere. He probably hasn’t paid for a meal since he was appointed to his rank, unless he was giving a banquet himself.” I turned to Handy. “Look, all this means is that Lily and Kindly are desperate to repair the damage Shining Light’s done to their family name, not to mention their parish. When the Chief Minister politely suggested holding a feast, even at three days’ notice, they weren’t in a position to argue. They’ve probably lavished their last wealth on it, and the place will still be full of people who are ready to kill them. If you want my advice, don’t eat anything, and drink all the chocolate you can hold to keep yourself alert.”

My master smiled benignly. Either he approved of my advice or he really was looking forward to the evening.

“A shield flower, my Lord. A stick flower, my Lord.”

“Thank you,” the Chief Minister replied graciously, as well he might since the man offering the gifts was no servant but, as was customary at a feast, a seasoned warrior. Holding his tobacco bowl delicately by its rim, my master passed it back to Handy before taking the flowers. The vast yellow sunflower he held in his left hand, like a shield, while the spray of frangipani was known as the “stick flower” because it was taken in the right like a weapon.

“Lovely,” he murmured, sniffing contentedly at the frangipani as he joined the throng in the courtyard.

The veterans ignored Handy and me, looking straight through us at their next honored guests as we hastened in our master’s footsteps.

Lily had filled her house with a scintillating crowd. Gold, jade and amber lip-plugs flashed as their wearers turned to speak to new arrivals. Red, yellow, blue and above all green feathers nodded in time to words spoken in muted, well-bred voices. Capes of every color-blue here, tawny there, carmine there-billowed against each other. These were the great of Tlatelolco, and not a few of Tenochtitlan’s finest as well: merchants, able for once to show off their wealth, and warriors, here to remind the merchants that they could take that wealth off them whenever they chose.

Ostensibly, Handy and I were there to attend to our master’s wishes, in case he was tempted by some tidbit. I was more interested in the guests, though. It was easier to look at their feet than their faces, and my eyes roamed the freshly strewn earth on the floor in the hope of seeing, among the calloused, sandaled feet of the merchants and the warriors and their cloaks’ embroidered borders, a more delicate ankle, the hem of a skirt or the tasseled fringe of a woman’s mantle.

In fact there were several women among the guests. Some were merchants’ wives, accompanying their husbands or standing in for them, and some were there in their own right, as directors of the marketplace. Whenever I furtively raised my glance from their feet to their faces, however, I was disappointed. There was no sign of Lily among them.

I had tried to plan what I would say to her if we met, but the words would not come. From my master’s point of view it scarcely mattered: if she saw me here then, hopefully, she would tell Nimble and then Young Warrior would come after me, and that was all his Lordship wanted. But what did I want?

I imagined myself accusing her of letting my enemy into her house to try to kill me, reproaching her for betraying me, demanding to know whether the night we had spent together had meant anything or nothing. I pictured the hurt in her eyes, her head turned quickly away to hide it, the silver streaks in her hair catching the light.

Then I pictured her looking at me blankly, curling her lip in indifference or amused contempt, or laughing out loud.

“You’re a fool, Yaotl,” I told myself.

“You’ve got that bloody right,” rasped a voice I knew very well indeed. “Come here!”

A hand like an alligator’s jaws clamped itself on my arm. “Now you can stand still for a moment. I’m tired of wandering around after you.”

“Hello, brother,” I sighed. “I didn’t recognize you dressed up like that.”

Lion was his old self again. His cloak was brand new, the cloth still a little stiff and dyed a yellow even brighter than the sunflower in his left hand. His freshly trimmed hair was bound up immaculately and a splendid plug of green stone shaped like an eagle and set in gold jutted from his lower lip. His expression was ferocious.

“Don’t try to be funny. What are you doing here?”

“You’ll have to let go of my arm,” I pointed out. “It doesn’t belong to either of us.”

After a brief glance at my master, Lion did as I suggested. “I assume you’re here under orders? Still looking for your master’s precious sorcerers?”

“Of course.”

My brother snorted derisively. “What does old Black Feathers expect to learn from this lot? No one ever says anything useful at parties like this. I don’t know why anyone bothers with them-they always make me want to throw up!”

His vehemence surprised me, but it was easy to forget that for all his status as a great warrior Lion had been born in the same room as I had, and unlike me he had not been schooled alongside nobles in the Priest House. Lion’s home, as the midwife would have told him the day he was born, was on the battlefield, not in some merchant’s courtyard making small talk about the price of cacao and how hard it was to get a cook who knew anything about armadillos.

“Well,” I said, “it looks as if your hosts agree with you, since neither Kindly nor Lily seems to be here.”

“He’ll be preparing for the sacrifice,” Lion reminded me. “Either that, or he’s already too drunk to care. As for her, someone told me she’d been taken ill and had retired to the women’s rooms. Maybe she heard you were coming!”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

“I heard old Black Feathers would be here.” The way he spat the name out left me in no doubt about his feelings. “I’ve a score to settle with that bastard, after what he made me and my men do in Coyoacan.”

I looked at him in alarm. “You’re never planning to …”

“I just want to keep my eye on him, that’s all. If it was your masterwho got those sorcerers out of the prison and then lost them, then I want to be there when he finds them again. I want to make sure at least one of them gets back to Montezuma alive, to tell him exactly what his Chief Minister’s been up to!”

I groaned. “Oh, no, Lion, don’t …”

“So, Yaotl, you’re going to have to make your mind up, aren’t you? Are you with me and the Emperor-or your master?”

I was spared the need to answer by a disturbance in the crowd around us. I turned quickly, half expecting to see Lily emerging into the courtyard to greet her guests, but it was only a server, bearing a bowl of steaming chocolate. Others followed him, carrying gourds and gourd rests and stirring sticks, and suddenly the air was filled with the smell of chocolate and nutmeg and an appreciative silence.

After the chocolate came the sacrifices; then the warriors danced.

As night fell, to the mournful sound of conch-shell trumpets from the tops of the pyramids, the Food of the Gods was served: little mushrooms coated in honey to disguise their bitter taste. After that, there would be no other food till morning, and no need for any, although the chocolate would continue being whisked and poured.

The Governor of Tlatelolco came first into the courtyard, followed by his deputy, the other dignitaries including my master and my brother, the mighty warriors-Shorn Ones and Otomies-and last of all the veterans, the masters of youth, the eagle and the ocelot warriors. As the musicians struck up their song and the dancers shuffled into their places, some already had a detached, faraway look that showed the mushrooms were taking effect.

Fueled by chocolate and mushrooms, most of the dancers would keep going all night. In their own minds, each one would be a proud, graceful, sinuous youth dancing on air to music made by gods. None would see himself staggering drunkenly about, hear himself giggling inanely or notice that none of his neighbors seemed to be following the same tune as he was. I was relieved when my master fell out before the dancing began, to retire indoors to the comfort of a reed mat and whatever magical dreams the gods sent his way.

The merchants did not dance. They sat at the edges of the courtyard, looking on and conversing quietly among themselves. Aroundthem were spread the presents they would give out later, to any of their guests still capable of recognizing them: still more flowers and smoking-tubes, feathers, paper garlands, turquoise mosaics and cloth treated with mica to make it shine.

It occurred to me that, if I ran away now, probably nobody would miss me before the morning. But where would I go? I had asked myself this question before and failed to find an answer. There was nowhere I could think of making a home other than Mexico, and nowhere in Mexico would be safe for long once my master woke up and found I had deserted him a second time. And those two images of Lily’s face, the one shocked and hurt by my words, the other indifferent, still haunted me, and would go on doing so until I found out which was real.

Besides, with the merchants lining its perimeter and the dancers gyrating in its center, there was no straight way across the courtyard to the street. It was going to be difficult enough finding my way to the women’s rooms. I had to slip through whatever gaps I could find, trying to blend into the background as well as my bizarre costume would allow, and hoping that Kindly, at least, would not see me walking right in front of him.

Half blind as he was, he probably would not have recognized me if one of the dancers had not wandered into my path, forcing me to step quickly aside and put my foot in the middle of the neatly ordered display in front of him.

“I’m sorry Excuse me,” I blurted unthinkingly.

“Hello, Yaotl,” the familiar old cracked voice responded. He had recognized my voice and I had no choice but to return his greeting.

“Kindly. You’re not drinking tonight, then?”

Twilight gave his filmy eyes a pale gleam.

“At my own banquet?” He sounded shocked. “How could I? Besides, I have to sacrifice at midnight-need a clear head for that. And before you ask, I’m not on the mushrooms either. Bloody things give me the runs.”

So he and I were probably the only completely sober people in the house.

“If you were looking for my daughter,” he went on, “I shouldn’t bother. She won’t see you.”

I looked toward the women’s rooms. They were dark, but who might be stirring in there? “I’d rather like her to tell me that herself.”

“A man going into the women’s rooms, uninvited? In the middle of a feast? And a slave, to boot? Unheard of!” He did not raise his voice, but there was an edge to it that told me I would get no closer to Lily before I was stopped. I remembered the burly warriors who had been recruited as servers for the evening. Part of the reason they were there was to break up any mushroom-induced fights among the guests, and any of them would have been more than equal to the task of subduing one scrawny slave.

His tone softened a little as he asked: “Why did you come here, Yaotl?”

“To ask your daughter to help us find Curling Mist,” I said, and then added, “and to ask her why she helped him when he tried to kill me.”

“And would you believe her if she said she did not?”

“I don’t know I think that’s why I have to ask.”

His answer seemed to come from a long way away “No one in this house bears you any ill will.”

I glanced down at him again, but he was not looking at me any more.

“Please don’t try to see my daughter.” His eyes were fixed on her doorway. “It would only distress her further, and there is nothing she can tell you-believe me.” He looked up again and smiled weakly. “Besides, she’s still in semi-mourning. Do you know she can only wash her hair once every eighty days until Shining Light returns? She won’t want to be seen by anybody right now!”

“All right.” I turned to go.

The old man’s dry, cackling laugh surprised me. “Oh, Yaotl, don’t sulk! Look, I have a present for you.”

“Save it,” I said dismissively, with a look that took in all the riches spread around him. “I’m a slave, remember? You need this to buy off your friends, the warriors.”

“No I don’t! This stuff is a token. They expect us to lay it out here just to show we haven’t forgotten who’s in charge. When the warriors really want something from us, they ask for it in advance and we give it in private. Look-you should take something. The rest ofthem will just pillage it otherwise, and when they get it home they’ll have no idea where it came from or why they took it. So why not? These feathers, now-they’re my family’s particular speciality. Why not take a bunch?”

Against my will I found myself accepting the bundle of long red feathers that he pressed into my hand.

“They’re very soft.” I felt I had to say something about them. “What are they, red spoonbill?”

“No, scarlet macaw.” He grinned up at me, as proud as a small boy who had just caught a frog. “They’re good, though, aren’t they? Where do you think they came from?”

“I don’t know.” I wanted to give the feathers back, but the moment for doing that had passed as quickly as it had come. “Somewhere in the far South-that’s where these birds live, isn’t it?”

Kindly chuckled. “Nearly. That was where we got the idea, but we grow them ourselves.”

I had a wild vision of a family sustaining itself on feathers sprouting from its members’ own rumps, until I realized what it was Kindly had meant.

“Really?” I was fascinated in spite of myself. “You mean you keep the birds here? How come I never saw or heard them?” Plenty of people kept finches, little twittering creatures that were quite at home hanging from the sides of houses in wicker cages. Parrots, I thought, must be a different matter. It would be hard to keep a parrot without the whole parish knowing about it.

“They went the same way as the rest of the merchandise,” he said bitterly. “So where they are now, only the gods and my grandson’s boyfriend know. But it was useful having them close at hand: it meant we could pluck a flight or a tail feather whenever the feather-workers needed one, and we saved ourselves all the effort of catching the birds and then packing the feathers and sending them home.”

I examined the bunch of feathers in my hand. In the twilight their rich, dark red reminded me of dried blood. “I thought the only person in the city who kept these birds was Montezuma.”

“Oh, I expect he has a houseful. And good luck to him! They’re almost more trouble than they’re worth. Of course, having live birds to pluck feathers from is a good idea, and apart from the fact that theyeat their cages they’re not hard to keep, but …” His talk dissolved into a rueful chuckle.

“The noise?” I offered.

“It’s worse than noise,” he confided. “They talk!”

I had an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Talk?”

“Why, yes. You can train them to talk, but … Hey! Where are you going?”

I ran, darting this way and that to avoid the hurtling bodies of the dancers, looking for my brother.