Previous: Agent Wainwright – Uncomfortable truths
Dinner and Distrust – Birth of a conspiracy – The coming of the False King – Martial arts – Speaking to the Gods – Last rites – The wind changes
WOMEN’S FOOTBALL TEAM VISITS
Rina Prescott reporting
There was much excitement today when the Scottish national women’s football team, who brought home the silver medal in the Pan-European championship this year, visited our University for an afternoon of sports. Many of our students took the opportunity to have their picture taken with the hugely popular team. These women continue to be an inspiration to any girl who has ever dreamed of a career in sports. The ladies were kind enough to head out onto the pitch and demonstrate all the techniques that rightly earned them a silver medal. There was also a friendly demonstration game against our boys’ team. All in all an experience none of us will easily forget.
Who won? -- LD
France, I think. We wuz robbed. -- RP
No, I mean the friendly demo against the Cranks. -- LD
Don't know. Had to leave early. -- RP
Oh God, that bad? --LD
It was the early afternoon, and the farmers had come in from the outside. All over the City, dinner was bubbling away on the tenamaztli, and there was some time to relax, to enjoy oneself. One of the men had brought out the heavy rubber ball used for the game of Ullamaliztli, where the players bump the ball with their hips in a spectacular display of daring and disregard for broken bones. Brenda and I were sitting on one of the benches, watching the game, listening to the chatter and cheers of the young girls sitting behind us.
“So how does this work?” said Brenda. “Last one who can still walk wins?”
I pointed. “You want to keep the ball in the other people’s court. A little like volleyball. Let it bounce more than twice and you lose a point.”
“I thought you had to put it through the hoops.”
“You can,” I said. “That’s an instant win for your team. But you lose points for trying and failing.”
Brenda’s eyes followed the ball. “Have to hand it to them. They don’t hold back.”
“Don’t tell me you want to join in?”
“Hell no! I like my hips the way they are.”
I had to laugh. “Are you sure? Think of the prizes. You could win the privilege of being sacrificed to Tlaloc or Huitzilopochtli.”
“Well, that‘ll put some fire into your hips.” Brenda frowned. “Wait. What? The winners get sacrificed?”
“Yes, they do. And they do try their very best to win. Unbelievable, but true.” I looked up at the Temple. “At worst, you die knowing you have helped your fellows to a new sunrise. At best, you are transported instantly to the seat of the Gods, there to dwell in eternity. The people believed that without sacrifice, the sun would fail to rise and everybody would die.”
“Heh. Like the Earth would stop spinning because you don’t get your heart ripped out? That’s stupid.”
“Yes.” I heaved a deep sigh, half expecting Lady Itzel to be sitting on my other side, with that little knowing smile I loved so much. “People often underestimate how dangerous it is to believe stupid things.”
Behind us, the girls stopped talking. I looked round. Quetzalcoatl Totec Tlamacazqui Xiuhtecuhtli was standing next to us. I rose to my feet and gave him a nod.
“Greetings, Alchemist,” he said. “Are you enjoying the game?”
“I wish I could join in, Tlamacazqui. But I have only a steel leg, not steel hips.”
“I know that feeling,” said Xiuhtecuhtli. “I once scored a hoop in an important game. There is nothing like it. But at my age, if I were fool enough to walk into the court, I would be destroyed.”
“We must leave the young to their own pursuits.”
“Just so.” Xiuhtecuhtli waved a hand in the direction of the entrance. “My fellow priests and I are about to have dinner. Would you join us? One of the hunters has brought down a capybara, and gifted it to us in thanks for our prayers on his behalf.”
“I would be honoured,” I said. “If you would have me.”
“Gladly.” Xiuhtecuhtli turned round to leave.
“Captain?” Brenda stood next to me without me having seen her move. “Where are you going?”
“To dinner with the gentleman priest.”
Brenda’s eyes narrowed. “Will you be needin’ any protecting?”
I gave her a smile, shook my head. “I’ll be among friends. Why don’t you keep watching the game?”
She gave me a look, nodded, sat back down. As I turned round to leave with my priest friend, Brenda’s fellow warrior Tupoc walked up and sat down next to her. She gave him a sneer, turned her eyes back to the game. Tupoc started to chat her up in Nahuatl and she told him to get lost in English.
I left them to it and followed Xiuhtecuhtli to Ichtacka’s chambers, where he and Yaotel were sitting in low chairs, enjoying drinks of Xocolatl. Ichtacka himself poured us both a cup, and I silently toasted the memory of Itzel.
“Greetings Philip,” said Ichtacka. “Has Xiuhtecuhtli told you why we are meeting?”
“Beyond the prospect of an excellent meal, he has not.”
Yaotel laughed. “And why would we need anything beyond that?”
“I am a simple man,” I said. “I am easily lured by pleasures of the table. You are not.”
“Alchemist,” said Ichtacka. The smallest hint in his voice told me to be careful with my words. “Tell me again. Why are you here?”
I didn’t answer immediately. I looked into the eyes of each of my dinner companions in turn. Yaotel, Xiuhtecuhtli, Ichtacka.
“I came here because Lady Itzel told me to return. I am here to defeat Magister Nicholas Slate and drive him and the people of Prometheus out of this City. I am here to put the fate of the City back into the hands of its own people.” I waited a moment. “And I am here to avenge my family.”
Yaotel frowned. “You are only one man. You have one servant, and a woman at that. You are not stupid. Why do you think you can do such a thing?”
I did not answer immediately. How much should I tell? What should I tell them? What should I leave unsaid? I looked round, but there was no image of Itzel to admonish me. The reason was clear. I already knew what I must do. There was nothing left but to do it. I sat up in my chair.
“What I tell you now must never leave this room, or we will all die. I travelled here on my dirigible, Lady I, who I named after both Lady Itzel and my wife Iris. Lady I was a mighty craft. I could have done much more had she not been damaged. I have told the Magister and his cronies that Brenda and I are the only ones to survive the destruction of Lady I.” I turned to Ichtacka. “To you, I said only that Brenda and I survived, which is not a lie, but not the whole truth. The whole truth is that my daughter, my son, and his wife and child all survived. They are hiding in the old cenote, watching over us. Lady I is within two day’s walk.” I looked at my steel leg. “For a healthy man. She is unable to fly.”
Ichtacka put his cup on the table, steepled his fingers. “You tell us your deepest secrets, Alchemist. But still, I have no answer to my question. The first I ever asked you when you came here. I do not hold it against you that you did not answer before. But from this moment on, there must be no more secrets between us. For the third and final time of asking. Why are you here? What is it that drove you to travel a lifetime’s walk to come here? What sun shines upon a field to produce such a harvest?”
“Magister Nicholas Slate.” My voice nearly failed me. “Is my mortal enemy.”
I told them all the things Slate and his minions had done to us, from the day we first met him at the Eiffel Tower in Paris, where he tried to kill all my family. The brazen attack on Algernon University where Wadcroft and Enderby were both injured. But most of all, I told them of Alexandra. How they had maltreated her, beating her, burning her skin, slowly breaking her legs. I could only imagine how she had suffered. I had only seen her on her return, damaged, reduced to a shadow of her former self. Filled with a pain and a hatred that might never drain from her soul.
“The name of Prometheus comes from an old story. Prometheus was a man most favoured by the Gods. One day, he went up to the home of the gods, and stole their fire and gave it to Mankind. For his punishment, he was chained to a rock. Every day a huge bird would come and eat his liver, you would say his tona. Every day it would grow back until the next day, for all times.” I slammed my fist on the armrest of my chair. “I will not rest until Slate suffers the same fate, and I will cut out his liver myself!”
Ichtacka stood up from his chair, looking not at me but at the door. “We have a visitor, no two visitors. Not only our wonderful cook Tonalnan, but also… a friend?”
Tonalnan put down her tray. “You cannot expect a weak and feeble woman to carry all the food you priests are eating all by herself.” She pointed at the table. “Chipahua, put it down there. In the middle, you silly girl!”
“Kematsin, Tonalnan.”
The young girl put down the brazier and Tonalnan placed a pot on it. She looked round the room checking for rats, alchemists, and cockroaches, then told Chipahua to get on with it and walked out of the door. Chipahua put down bowls, poured us all cups of cool water, unrolled the tlaxkalli onto a plate. I didn’t pay attention. I was still too wrapped up in my anger.
“I will never forgive him for what they did to Alexandra,” I said.
I noticed a pair of brown eyes on me. Chipahua half opened her mouth to say something, remembered where she was and finished setting the table.
“Thank you my dear,” Ichtacka said.
Chipahua nodded, gave me a final look, and left. Ichtacka and his fellow priests exchanged glances. Ichtacka reached out and pushed the dish containing the slices of capybara meat over to me.
“Please, Alchemist. Try it. It is one of Tonalnan’s finest dishes.”
I put a few slices into my bowl, pushed the dish over to Yaotel, who bent forward, shifted uncomfortably, reached inside his tunic and pulled out a long obsidian blade which he put on the table before taking his part and passing the dish on to Xiuhtecuhtli. He noticed me staring at the knife, smiled.
“Enjoy your meat, Alchemist.”
If you want to know what capybara tastes like, I’m afraid I cannot tell you as I was too preoccupied. Most likely, it tasted like chicken. Most things do. I had passed the test. I was now a fellow conspirator. I could have done with a stiff Whisky to calm my nerves, but all we had was water. I drank it all the same, barely noticed the hellishly spicy filling of the tlaxkalli. I turned to Ichtacka.
“Could you tell me how the Magister came to wield the power of the Tlatoani, the King?”
Ichtacka pushed away his bowl, picked up his cup. “Since you left, we had no real King. Ilhicamina died childless, and nobody could claim the kingship. The wrath of Huitzilopochtli took King Ilhicamina and all the high priests, and we had to make do without.” He took a sip of water. “It was hard. We the tlamacazqui deal with matters of the Gods, of faith. Now, we had to deal with the conduct of war. The growing of crops. The needs of the farmers. Quetzalcoatl never gave us that authority, for that lies with the King only. The people know it. We needed a King. We pleaded to the Gods, with a dozen sacrifices, all we could afford, to send us one who might take the mantle of Ilhicamina. And then, the Magister came from the heavens, and even I thought for a while that our prayers had been answered.”
Xiuhtecuhtli looked out of the window. “It was a bright day in the month of Tecuilhuitontli, the Small Feast of the Lords. As the day drew to an end, there was a loud noise, as of thunder, but lasting longer. The light from the Portal of the Gods above us darkened, even though it was not yet evening. The Magister’s dirigiable moved into the Portal. Lightning was all round it. Then the Magister descended on a platform and spoke in words not of this world.”
Yaotel continued. “A little man named Tochtli came and told us what the Magister had said. He was the Messenger of Quetzalcoatl Himself, come to guide the City to its destiny.” His lips were tight. “And for a short while, I could have wept for joy. We were saved.”
“But it didn’t last,” Ichtacka put his arm on Yaotel’s shoulder. “The Magister’s dirigiable had all manner of foreign devices, and his pale-skinned servants put them in the temple to Huitzilopochtli. There was the sound of hammers! They were breaking the walls of the Temple!”
“And then,” Xiuhtecuhtli said, “we were summoned into his presence. Him, and his female teacher of youths, and his general. He showed us many wondrous things. Lights that lit and went out without fire. Lightning. He told us that these devices were used to talk to the Gods. And we were no longer to…” His voice faltered.
“The Magister spoke,” said Yaotel. “And that little rat Tochtli told us what the Magister had said. I hear his words again and again in my heart. He told us we were no longer to… sacrifice people, since the Magister could speak with the Gods directly through his magics.”
Ichtacka gave me a grim smile. “We didn’t trust him, and afterwards, we caught that little man, and put the fear of fire on him, and asked him what the Magister had truly said.”
“Murder!” Yaotel’s hands shook as he looked at them. “We were no longer to murder people!” He looked up at me, and I was shocked to see tears streaming down his face. “We sacrificed twelve people. Four men. Four women. Four children. They are missed even today. Our City is poorer for their leaving. Even now, I see their faces. Even now, I hear the last words on their lips before they departed. Give us a King! And then a King comes, and he calls it murder! Like a thief who strikes down a man for his possessions. Murder!“
Ichtacka looked at me. “Magister Nicholas Slate is not the King we prayed for, Alchemist. For all the times I have heard the Gods speak to me, for all the times I dismissed my own stupid desires, I was deceived. I failed to notice. And now, we must rid ourselves of this impostor.”
“It won’t be easy,” Xiuhtecuhtli said. “The people believe that the Magister is a divine being come to lead us, and we cannot simply tell them he is not. But we must find a way. Will you help us?”
I looked at my fellow conspirators, Yaotel, Xiuhtecuhtli, Ichtacka.
“With all my strength, with all my knowledge, with all my will. I swear it.”
We finished our special feast. Because of my state of mind Tonalnan’s skills were wasted on me. I walked outside to see what was happening. The five-a-side Ullamaliztli game had finished because it was too dark to see the ball, but there was a new attraction. There was a circle of people and in the middle was my Shieldmaiden in hand-to-hand combat with her new warrior friend. They were both crouched down, taking slow careful steps around each other.
Tupoc sprang forward without a sound and threw a punch at Brenda, who blocked it and countered, but Tupoc had already retreated, and dodged Brenda’s followup attack. He lightly skipped backwards, bouncing on his feet grinning at Brenda, crouched down with raised fists again.
Clearly, they had been at it for a while. Their skin was shining with sweat, their clothes stuck to their bodies. They were enjoying themselves, and didn’t show any sign of stopping.
Brenda moved in with a low kick that developed into a throw when Tupoc dodged and threw a punch. He staggered back but stayed on his feet. Wasting no time he aimed a kick at Brenda’s midsection and she ducked, reached out, and pulled his other leg from under him. He landed on his back. Holding on to his leg she punched him twice, but halted her fist half an inch from his face. She stepped back a few paces and Tupoc jumped to his feet.
They joined again, and Tupoc feinted, solidly kicked Brenda in the chest, following up with a hard push. Brenda took a few uncertain steps back, but managed to avoid falling on her bottom. With a scowl, she stepped forward again. Tupoc changed his stance from right foot to left foot forward and aimed a punch at Brenda’s face. Brenda had been waiting for something like that, grabbed his arm, threw him over her hip, and rolled with him into an armbar, legs over his chest and neck, his arm firmly grasped in her hands. She tightened her grip and noticed me.
“Oh hello Captain. Had a good dinner then?”
“Excellent,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” I pointed at Tupoc. “Are you about done?”
“Um.” Brenda pretended to notice Tupoc. “Can you tell him that if he taps the floor, I’ll let go?”
I translated. Tupoc, red-faced with bare teeth gave me a big grin and answered.
“He says he already knows, and he will in a few more minutes.”
“Heh.” Brenda pulled the armbar tighter. Tupoc tapped her leg, and they got to their feet.
Tupoc looked at me. “Alchemist, please tell your warrior that she hits like a girl.”
I translated for Brenda, and she laughed. “I am a girl. What’s your excuse?”
The evening was drawing to an end. Brenda raised her fist at Tupoc, and he bumped it. With a wave, he returned to the barracks and we walked to our own chambers. Brenda was chuckling to herself.
“What?”
“I went toe to toe with an honest-to-goodness Aztec warrior, and I kicked his ass!”
“Hm. I went toe to toe with three Aztec priests and…” I paused. I realised that Tupoc might very well have challenged Brenda to keep her out of the way of the City’s priesthood and their murderous plans. Brenda would never forgive herself if I told her.
“I didn’t get sacrificed,” I finished. “It is as I expected. They hate the Magister as much as I do. We have allies.”
“They are high nobility, ain’t they? Good friends to have.”
“They are powerful, but not all powerful. Still. I am now more optimistic than I was before. Time to turn in.”
“I need a bath,” said Brenda. “Be there in fifteen minutes.”
I had just unfastened one of the straps on my leg, when there was a male voice at the door. I sighed, fastened it again and walked to the door. It was Brenda’s large friend. He was armed with the traditional macuahuitl, but he didn’t look like he was here to murder me.
“Cualli teotlac, Alchemist. Please forgive me for disturbing you.”
“Good evening, Tupoc. How may I help you?”
“I am looking for Brenda. Is she here?”
I glared at him. “What, Cuauhocelotl Tupoc, are your intentions towards my daughter?”
“Daughter?!“
I laughed. “I am only joking. She should be back soon. You can wait here if you wish.” I pointed him at a chair, and he sat down. “What do you need her for?”
“Are all the women in England like her?”
“Brenda is not English. She comes from the lands far away to the North.” I shook my head. “I don’t think there is anyone quite like her.”
“There are no woman warriors in this city.” Tupoc said. “Upon my word, I did not fight her intending to truly harm her.”
“Thank you. I am sure neither did she.”
“I have lived in this City all my life. I learnt to fight in the Telpochcalli from when I was a young boy. Everybody learns to fight. But the City is hidden. We do not go to war. There are no enemies to capture and send to the Gods.” He ran his hand over the back of his head. “Our Captain decided that since there were no enemies, we would make war upon ourselves. We put feathers on our weapons, divided ourselves into two Xiqipilis, and fought each other. Thus, I was spared having to walk around with this stupid Piltonpli on my head.”
“That is what we do as well,” I said. “There have not been any large wars for years, but still we know we must be ready for when they do come.”
“With no real enemies, how do I know?” Tupoc put his hands on his weapon, leaned his head upon them. “Brenda is the first one I fight who I haven’t fought all my life. I think I could have captured her in a real war, but it would not be easy. And she is a woman. How do I know that the first real enemy I face will not simply swat me like a fly?”
“I don’t know. But Miss Lee is not like anyone else.”
The bead curtain was twitched aside and Brenda came in, hair wet from her bath. She saw Tupoc, sneered at him.
“You brought a weapon this time? Think that’s gonna help you?”
Tupoc got up, spoke to her.
“He says he brought something for you,” I said.
He held up his macuahuitl to her. “A gift for you. A warrior needs a proper weapon, not one of those sad little bits of metal.”
Brenda reached out and carefully touched the obsidian edge. “Sharp,” she said.
Tupoc offered it to her again.
“It’s yours,” I translated. “It’s my old one. Come to me if you need to replace pieces of obsidian.”
That was cunning. Give her a present, but make sure something is wrong with it so she’ll come back to have him fix it. I didn’t say that of course. I wouldn’t want to stand in his way in any sense.
Brenda took the weapon out of his hands, turned it round, looked at it. Her eyes were shining. She knew that she was being seduced, and by the looks of it, it was working.
“Captain?” She kept looking at Tupoc. “What’s thank you in Aztec?”
“Tla-soh-ka-ma-ti.” I said, speaking slowly.
“Tlasohkamati, Tupoc,” she said. “I’ll think of you when I use it.”
I translated. Tupoc grinned.
“When you stand next to me. Not opposite me.”
He clasped her shoulder, turned round, walked out. Brenda raised her weapon, struck out with it. She grinned at me.
“Oh Sabine. I have a new toy. Want to come out and play?”
If the North American Marines teach you one thing, it’s to be punctual. With Brenda around, there was no need to set an alarm. I watched her open her eyes at six o’clock exactly. I had my leg and my clothes on already. At my age, you don’t need much sleep.
“Captain.”
She stuck her legs out of bed, and got into her clothes in exactly the way every one of her Brothers would, taking exactly the same four minutes. She made her bed, and she was ready for the day. Tonalnan came and brought us both a bowl of oat meal gruel for our breakfast.
“Tlasohkamati, Tonalnan,” I said, and Brenda and I sat down to eat.
“What’s the plan today, Captain?”
“I still have to engineer some sort of way to produce masses of hydrogen gas. I’ll also need a way to store the stuff.”
“Balloons for all the kids,” said Brenda.
“That wouldn’t work,” I said. “Do you remember how balloons go all wrinkly after hardly any time at all?”
Brenda cast her eyes to the Heavens. “That was a joke, Cap’n.”
“To you maybe, not to me. You, Carl, and Alexandra have sealed up Lady I‘s envelopes but the hydrogen will leak through the skin. They’ll be empty in a few months. The only thing that will hold hydrogen pressure for any amount of time is a thick steel tank. Things you might think of as air tight, still aren’t hydrogen tight.” I took a breath. “And there is no way that our Aztec friends can produce such a tank. I forged an axe, and that was frankly a metallurgical miracle.”
“And Slate knows that as well as you do.”
“Yes.”
“He’s guessing.”
“Exactly. I do in fact have an adequate way of storing tons of hydrogen. The longer I continue to play with batteries and pots of water, the more certain he becomes that I have a use for lots of hydrogen.”
“And you can’t exactly say it’s hopeless and stop, because otherwise how would we get the Lady to fly again?”
I nodded.
“Time’s running out.”
“It is.”
It was early in the afternoon when Slate once more summoned us to his eyrie. I swear, he enjoys watching me struggle all the way up the stairs. Still, I’ll be damned if I have people carry me. Brenda and I entered the temple. Already there were Slate, Sabine Moreau, Slate’s lieutenant Heinz Ostwald, Ichtacka, Yaotel, and Xiuhtecuhtli. I stepped into the middle of the room. The stump of my leg hurt, but I didn’t let on.
“Magister,” I said.
“Ah Captain,” said Slate. “So good of you to join us. It must not be easy for you. Still, I hope today’s demonstration will be worth the effort.”
“Demonstration?” I stood up straight just to show him.
Slate turned to the others. “It has come to my attention that there are those among you who doubt that I am truly speaking to the Gods.” Slate looked back at me. “Would you be so good as to translate for our holy men?”
I repeated what Slate had said while he watched the priests’ faces. They showed no expression at all on their faces and I made a note never to teach them Poker.
“For their benefit, I will now speak to a deity of their choice, and they may judge me by my answer.”
If I were truly the Magister’s ally and helper, I might have warned him of the error of his ways. I did no such thing of course, but translated truly and literally.
I had to marvel at Slate’s sheer callousness. At that point, I doubted that even if I sincerely wanted Slate to become the Divine Ruler of Anctapolepl, I could have helped him even with my knowledge. If he were doing this in England, would he ask an archbishop whether to manifest the Father, the Son, or the Holy Ghost? Was he really this stupid?
Ichtacka looked at me, wondering if he’d misheard, then deciding he hadn’t. He turned to Slate.
“Quetzalcoatl,” he said. “The Feathered Serpent, wisest of the Gods. Speak to him if you can.”
Slate gave a single nod. He sat down on the Throne, and put his hands on the copper orbs on the armrests. Behind him, Sabine pulled a lever, and with a loud crackling sound, lightening appeared in the metal structure above his head. Slate shut his eyes threw his head back, and uttered words in a language I could not understand. I looked at the priests. Ichtacka stood still as a statue, his face betraying nothing. Yaotel looked angry. Xiuhtecuhtli stared at the lightning playing above the Magister’s head. He caught my eye. I shrugged.
After about a minute, Sabine pushed the lever back, and the son-et-lumière ceased. A few moments later, Slate opened his eyes.
“Igne Natura Renovatur Integra.”
Now here was a phrase that Prof. Wadcroft would know. It means “By fire, Nature is renewed.” It was adopted by early Alchemists to whom fire was one of the four elements. It serves as a reminder of how ignorant we once were. Also, the initials are I, N, R, and I, which should ring a bell or two in the right company. This alone should have served as a warning to me, but truly, what could I have done?
Slate stood up and turned to the priests.
“I have spoken to the God, and He has replied to me. Hear now the words He has spoken to me. One of you shall be granted the honour of conversing with Him. Mind to mind. To that man, the Truth will be revealed in such a way that he can be certain of it.” Slate waited for me to translate, waved his arm. “Who of you shall it be?”
They turned to each other.
“I don’t trust this,” said Xiuhtecuhtli. “This is clearly some device to addle the mind and give you visions directly from the realm of King Mictlantecuhtli.”
“I agree,” said Yaotel. “We must refuse. We have our own ways of speaking with the Gods.”
Ichtacka looked at the floor. “We cannot refuse. Doing so would be the same as to denounce him. Are we ready to do that?” He looked at me. “Alchemist? Is there a chance that he is speaking the truth?”
“You have my word that he is not. This chair is a toy. It will not grant anyone access to the Gods.”
“What will happen to the man who sits in that chair?”
“It is tamed lightening, like I showed you before. It will give you tremors. The Magister sits in it himself. The orbs are important. If it becomes too much, let go of the orbs.”
Ichtacka gave a nod. He stood up, stepped forward. Slate pointed his hand at the chair and Ichtacka sat down. He put his hands on the copper orbs as Slate had done.
“Commence,” said Slate.
The look in Sabine Moreau’s eyes as she threw the lever told me all I needed to know, but it was too late, too late. The lightening appeared above Ichtacka’s head, and he screamed. I could see the muscles in his arms swell up, his body convulsed.
“Let go of the orbs!” I shouted. “Let go!”
Ichtacka didn’t hear me. I turned round. “Brenda!”
Brenda leapt forward, took hold of Ichtacka’s arm. Her body tightened and she gave a shout. In one massive heave, or convulsion, she pulled away Ichtacka’s thin arm. The spell broken, Ichtacka slumped in the seat, and Brenda fell to the floor, her arms and legs shaking, her teeth bare. I knelt by her side as Yaotel and Xiuhtecuhtli leapt to Ichtacka’s aid.
Brenda was uttering a long string of transatlantic swearwords. She rubbed her arms.
“I’m good. The old man!”
Yaotel and Xiuhtecuhtli had laid Ichtacka down on the floor. Yaotel listened at his lips. He looked up.
“He’s alive! Let’s get him to his chambers. Fetch Tonalnan.”
Slate stepped forward. “This is what happens to those who attempt to speak to the Gods, and are found unworthy. Take him away.”
I translated word for word, with pure malice in my heart. Xiuhtecuhtli half stood up as if to throw himself at Slate. The big Prussian Ostwald looked down on him, his blue eyes cold and dead, and reached for the handle of his pistol. I stood up, held Xiuhtecuhtli’s shoulder, shook my head.
“Ichtacka first. Then, the Magister.”
Yaotel, the most fleet afoot among us, ran down the stairs, and a few minutes later, two hefty warriors showed up with a stretcher. They carried Ichtacka to his chambers. Tonalnan was already waiting with her bag of medicinal herbs. It only took her one look. She sadly shook her head. Ichtacka was hurt beyond the help of any of us. She did the only thing she could, which was to set alight some herbs, and waft the smoke into Ichtacka’s face. He gasped, opened his eyes. He tried to raise his arm and couldn’t.
“I am going on my last journey,” he took a few laboured breaths. “I can only ask the Gods to help you, but I shall. It is you who must rid the City of this abomination.”
Yaotel took Ichtacka’s hand between his. “It will be done, Tlamacazqui Totec Ichtacka.”
“So we swear,” Xiuhtecuhtli said.
Ichtacka smiled, turned his eyes to me. “Look after my people, Alchemist.”
Before I could answer, the light left Ichtacka’s eyes, and he stopped breathing. We looked at each other. Tonalnan quietly gathered up her medicines, found a blanket and put it over his face.
The funeral was held the next day. Being a high-ranking member of the priesthood, Ichtacka was to be cremated. Some of the women had been busy making little effigies of him that people could keep. His body was wrapped in linen, and placed upon the pyre. In the days before the Magister came, there would have been sacrifices, servants for the old priest in the afterlife. Their place was taken by more effigies, human figures made out of corn leaves. I was secretly glad. I looked at the faces of the people gathered at the very same field where I had ignited a barrel of gunpowder underneath the despicable priest Matlal. It took a long time for all the flames finally to die down, and then priests came to put the ashes into urns, to be buried underneath Ichtacka’s home, and in other places, kept secret.
For the shortest moment, I thought I recognised a familiar beautiful face in the crowd, smiling at me, but in the blink of an eye it vanished as if I had never seen it. The evening rains came, and Brenda and I walked home together. I sat on my bed, unstrapped my leg, pulled on my pyjamas. I was ready to get into bed when I saw Brenda. She was sitting on her bed in her underwear, staring miles ahead of her. Using a chair as a crutch, I made my way over and sat down next to her. She didn’t move.
“Damn it,” she whispered.
I said nothing.
“Little bitch killed the old man. On my goddamn watch.”
“There’s nothing you could have done,” I said.
Brenda turned her brown eyes to me. Before I could move or speak, she had pulled out her kukri, and flung it across the room where it stuck in a wooden cupboard, quivering.
“That’s what I could have done. That’s what I should have done. But I didn’t. I’m damn useless.”
I put my arm round her big strong shoulders and pulled her to me. She made an annoyed sound, but didn’t push me away.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “Brenda. It’s not your fault. You did what you could, at great risk to yourself, and gave Tlamacazqui Ichtacka his last words. You should be proud.”
Brenda scowled. “Change in the ROE, Captain. If you go anywhere near that goddamn chair again, I’m chopping Sabine to pieces as a precaution.” She gave me a burning look. “I’m done playing nice.”
I stared at Brenda’s kukri sticking in the wall on the other side of the room.
“So am I,” I said.
The Algernon Expeditions 