Young Jaguar, The (13 page)

“Don’t you even think of fighting back!”

The heavy body pressed harder. She tried not to cry
out at the pain in her spine. Her teeth reached for the rough skin of the
strangling palm. It tasted of some spices and salt. Before she could sink them
into it, the palm pressed harder, slamming her head against the cold marble.
She tried to stop the tears from seeping.

“Stop fighting, you wild barbarian.” He was hissing
into her face. “Just stop it! Listen to me.” Only now, she noticed her
fingernails were tearing at his shoulders. She could feel the cotton material
ripping under her palms. The nails of her other palm felt the warmth of the
tearing flesh.

The man pressed harder. “Listen to me, you damn
manure-eating good-for-nothing,” he growled once again. “Stop fighting. I don’t
want to hurt you.”

She tried to control her panic. The strangling hand
would not allow her to breathe deeply, to try to calm herself.

“I don’t want to hurt you, you silly woman,” he said
more calmly, sensing her giving up. “Will you behave if I let you go?”

She nodded.

The pressure on her mouth eased a little. “Slowly,
slowly,” he said. “Now look at me. Can I trust you not to scream or run away,
or
attack
me, if I let you go?”

She nodded once again, her body beginning to
tremble. The hand clutching her mouth moved away. When he moved along with it,
she slid down the column, her legs powerless to support her. She clutched her
mouth, now with her own palms, trying to control the shaking, trying to make
her teeth stop rattling.

She could hear him going away, then coming back. The
offered goblet made her grateful. She tried to drink, but the water spilled all
over.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, gazing at the wet floor.

When she was able to look up, he was back up on his
high stool, studying her calmly, eating another tortilla. She could see it was
empty this time, just a pastry made of ground maize.

“I envy and pity my nephew at the same time, you know?”
The deep voice was calm, unbearably amused. “You are a wild woman, and you have
no finesse. To start screaming, of all things! Did I say he was already dead?
Did I?” The massive head shook. “I said he will have to be killed, yes. But for
the sake of the mighty gods, can’t you just plead for his life, nicely and
calmly? No. This is what a civilized woman would do. But you? First you scream
at the top of your voice, then you fight like a wild ocelot when I try to
silence you. So this is the life my nephew was leading? What an extraordinary
choice! I mean, for a concubine it might be entertaining, but as a Chief Wife?
No wonder he is so difficult.”

The trembling was dying away. She drank the last of
the water, the little that was left in the goblet. The rest was soaked into her
blouse, splashed around on the floor tiles. Her face hurt, and she touched her
mouth with her fingers.

“So what do I do with you?”

She got onto her feet tiredly, her back hurting.

“I don’t know,” she said hoarsely, not caring about
what she said anymore. She cleared her throat. “If I can do anything to prevent
you from killing him, please tell me now. I want to go home.”

She could hear his laughter. “You know, I like you
better this way. This oh-so-very-high-spoken noblewoman pretense does not suit
you. Not at all. Your magic is in your wildness. Do not try to hide it.” He
pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes into their usual squint. “I don’t think
there is anything you can do. Can you think of something?”

“How would my husband’s death help you?”

“He controls the warriors, the elite ones. They
can’t be swayed as long as they are following him. Once removed, they’ll be
distraught and easy to maneuver.” One broad hand came up. “We’ve reached an
impasse, you see? I can’t go back on what I started, and he wouldn’t be budged
from his high-principled stance. It’s easier for him, you see, to look straight
forward. He is afraid of politics. But now, anyway, his pride will not allow
him to change his mind. And it’s a civil war, Sakuna. Azcapotzalco people will
be fighting each other. Do you see any way to prevent it?”

“You are as proud as he is. Probably more so. But
you are also wiser. Can’t you postpone the change?”

He regarded her with a growing interest. “I’m also
growing old, Sakuna. I can’t wait for too long.” He sighed. “I know I’m right
about our current Emperor. I don’t want to die knowing I could have done
something to save our people.”

“What is wrong with the current Emperor?”

 “He thinks himself better than his father, our old
Emperor. He will wreak havoc on the Empire in an attempt to prove it. He will
expand and expand, until our lands will be too large and too numerous to
manage. Then it’ll collapse. It happened to Mayans, it happened to Toltecs,
it’ll happen to us unless a wiser Emperor maintains the existing situation. The
old Emperor thought it was the best course. But we are growing a dangerous
animal right in our back yard, you see? It has to be put down, preferably
destroyed, before it grows too powerful to handle.”

“The Aztecs,” she said, making it a statement.

“Yes, our so-very-humble Mexica allies. The mighty
Acolnahuacatl, our strong previous Emperor, had tamed them most thoroughly, but
he did not finish them off. He had preferred to use them to finish off our
enemies at Culhuacan. And that might prove to have been a mistake. Are you
versed in our history, Sakuna? Did my nephew bother to tell you how it all had
begun?”

“The flayed princess?” she asked, remembering the
way Tecpatl had told her that story fifteen summers ago, when they were oh, so
very young, traveling the desert, fighting its predators, beginning to fall in
love. He had offered to take her back with him, hesitantly, not yet sure of
that decision himself. And she was thrilled that he had offered, but also
hesitant, not sure if that was the right thing to do. And then, they had
talked, and he told her about the Aztecs and the flayed princess of Culhuacan,
laughing at their barbarity, telling her that Azcapotzalco’s people would
sacrifice only the captured warriors.

She had been horrified. She’d never heard of human
sacrifice before. Unable to grasp such
barbarity
, she tried to argue and
only made him angry by her attitude worthy of peasants. That night they had
arrived at the conclusion that their mutual future was not to be.

So much had changed since. She sighed, concentrating
on the deep voice of the formidable man who now held her family’s fate in his
greedy power-hungry palm.

“We almost destroyed them back then,” the man was
saying, immersed in his story. He seemed to enjoy himself, she thought,
surprised. “They were finished, scattering off like squirrels. But Culhuacan
intervened, giving them a piece of worthless land, and we were not in the
position to start the war your husband waged so successfully some twenty,
thirty summers later. But when the incident with the flayed princess had
occurred, Culhuacan wanted to destroy them, yet this time we were the ones to
aid them, to give them the better land, turning them into our most prized
mercenaries. How wrong we were!”

She had never seen the imposing man so animated, so
agitated, so upset. The formidable palms chopped the air.

“It was such a mistake. Such a fatefully wrong
decision! Even at the cost of preserving Culhuacan, even at the price of
allying ourselves with them, we should have seized the chance to destroy those
Aztecs. They are growing too fast, our worthwhile allies. Their sprawling city
is filling that pitiful island we gave them, brackish water and all. It’s
growing, Sakuna, that city is growing with each passing day. And I tell you,
one day they’ll destroy us. I can feel it in my bones. One day, in the future,
they will be strong enough to ally with the discontented among our neighbors.
And then they will destroy us.” Again old and tired, the heavyset man sagged in
his chair. “Do you understand me, Sakuna? Can you see what I see?”

“Yes,” she said, pitying him. “I see what you see.
Azcapotzalco may look invincible, but it was not always like that, and it may
not always be the case.”

He glanced at her from under his bushy eyebrows. “I
can understand why my nephew likes talking to you. I thought it bizarre at the
time, but now I see that you have nothing in common with any woman, civilized
or barbarian, that I’ve ever met. Are all women of your lands like you?

She suppressed her welling sadness. “My people do
not exist anymore.”

He acknowledged this with a nod.

“So Sakuna, what shall we do?”

She shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”

His gaze was piercing. “How?”

She didn’t drop her eyes. “I know my way with
herbs.”

“It will be too obvious,” he said softly.

“Only if the local herbs are used.”

“How long will it take?”

“Not long.”

“Tomorrow at noon I’ll send a man, or a woman, who
will come to receive it from you.”

She tensed. “My husband and my son come to no harm,
no harm at all!”

“Your son is not in any danger.”

“He is in the Palace!”

“Of course, he is. He is in the service of the
correct
emperor.”

“That’s impossible! How…”

“Leave it, Sakuna. He is all right. For the next few
days concentrate on what has to be done.”

“You promise not to hurt Tecpatl however difficult
he might prove?”

“Yes,” he said tiredly. “I will be glad not to kill
my nephew. You can make it possible.” He straightened up, back his old
formidable self. “I’ll send a group of warriors to escort you home.”

“I have my maid and my litter bearers.”

The man chuckled. “At this time of the day it might
prove not enough. You are too valuable, Sakuna.” His twisted grin widened.
“Can’t risk your life dragging around the nighttime Azcapotzalco now.”

She grinned back, not afraid of him anymore. He was
just an old man with no one to talk to.

***

The first drops of rain began falling as they rushed
down the deserted streets. The thunder roared one after another, but the
well-beaten roads were still dry. Then one especially powerful roar shook the
air, and the drops as large as cocoa beans bounced off the thirsty earth.

They ducked into the gate and ran down the path, her
litter tossing about. This time she didn’t mind. Springing out of her carriage,
she ran up the wide stairs, passing a maid who leaped toward her.

“Take care of the warriors who brought me in,” she
tossed at the woman. “Offer then something to eat and drink.”

“But Mistress…” The woman seemed anxious to tell her
something. Her opinion on her adventures, thought Sakuna, pushing the woman
aside.

“Take care of the warriors. Go!”

She stood in the darkness of her spacious hall,
panting. Well, one worry less. Atolli was all right, and Tecpatl would be just
fine. And she was about to do something terrible.

She shivered. The realization of the nature of the
affair she had agreed to participate in dawned upon her.

Agreed to participate? She had suggested it! But
then, what choice did she have?

She brought her hands to her hair, suddenly
realizing it was disheveled and wet. And her chin still hurt. She touched it
lightly. It was too late to order a bath. Well, then it would be the first
thing to do in the morning. Before she began to prepare…

Thunder rolled above, startling her. She turned
around and gasped, taking in the figure in the doorway, leaning against the
wall, watching her.

“Where have you been?”

His voice rang hollowly between the plastered walls.
In the sudden flash of the lightning she saw him clearly for a moment, the
gaunt pale face, the disheveled hair.

With an effort, he pushed himself against the wall
and straightened up, entering the spacious room, paces unsteady, one hand
holding onto a flask
of
an exquisite
pottery, fragrant and beautifully painted.

She rushed toward him. “Tecpatl! Are you hurt?”

He pushed her hands away. “Where have you been?”

She stared at him, speechless as another lightning
flashed. She could see his eyes now, full of rage and frustration, glimmering
darkly, furiously. Involuntarily, she took a step back.

He laughed. “Are you afraid of me, Sakuna? Why would
you be afraid?” He came closer. “What have you been up to?” He swayed a little,
but managed to regain his balance.

“You are drunk,” she whispered, appalled. He would
rarely touch
octli
, even on social occasions. He always said it would
blur his senses in a way he disliked. He would never risk losing control of
himself. Drinking
octli
was not worthy of a leader, the man responsible
for the elite warriors, the best of the best.

“No, not seriously.” He waved the beautiful pottery
as if brushing her words aside. “I found that flask, and it was almost full.
And it was the only thing I have found in my house.” He peered at her through
the darkness. “You know, there are old habits one has. Like coming home and
finding your wife waiting for you. It’s a very nice habit.” He measured her
with a glance and now, accustomed to the darkness, she saw how much rage his
face held in spite of the seemingly calm, conversational tone. “I had my life
very nicely organized, you know? And suddenly, in one rotten day, it’s all gone
or about to go. My position in the Palace is questioned, my son is spitting
into my face by going about serving my enemies against my direct orders, my
wife is spending her nights somewhere else. Doing what?” He leaned closer.
“Could you answer that, Sakuna?”

She took a step back, nauseated by the rich, spicy
smell of the
octli
. His hand shot forward, grabbing her shoulder.

“I loved this very nicely organized life of mine,
you know?” He went on, his conversational tone not matching the force with
which his fingers dug into her flesh. “It has its price, but I was willing to
pay it. It was well worth it. I thought you were as happy about it. Was I
wrong?” He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing against her forehead.