Jaguar Princess (18 page)

At the mention of Ilhuicamina, the young priest paled, then flushed. “It is he who demands greater fervor from us in driving out those who are accursed. And she is one.” He looked around at the assembled people. “You all saw what happened.”

“A strong wind often blows down these hallways,” said Nine-Lizard smoothly. “Many a gust has been mistaken for the work of spirits.”

Mixcatl followed the priest’s gaze around the circle of faces, hoping that they would believe Nine-Lizard. She cursed herself for letting her temper get away from her and the youth for his
arrogance. She saw the questioning glances exchanged and knew that even though most people would accept Nine-Lizard’s explanation, there would be those who knew what they had seen. And in the gazes that were turned on her, she saw the hard glitter of suspicion.

“Go fill your water jug and finish mixing your paints, Seven-Flower,” the Master of Scribes told Mixcatl. “Ilhuicamina wants no interruptions in your work.”

Gripping the handle of her pitcher, Mixcatl walked past the people, down the hallway. Behind her, she heard Nine-Lizard and others soothing the priest. But she knew the affair was far from being over. Too many questions would be asked. And what if it happened again? Many other people who came to the House of Scribes also wore jaguar skins as emblems of their office and rank. Mixcatl didn’t like the practice, but she accepted and understood it.

She filled her jug and went back hoping she could lose herself in her work. Soon she was caught up in the making of glyphs, but the contentment she had felt that morning was gone.

In the library at Tezcotzinco, Wise Coyote stared at the two statuettes, now standing side by side on their own shelf. He remembered Nine-Lizard’s words when the old scribe had brought him the second one.

I have placed my foot on the threshold
, he thought.
Do I wish to go beyond
?

The pieces of ancient art in his collection seemed to regard him silently. He turned to a great stone disk bearing the Plumed Serpent. How he had searched for a sign that said that Quetzalcoatl’s powers were real. But all he could find was evidence that Plumed Serpent was an ancient and revered king.

Will I be thought of as a god when I am dust, thought Wise Coyote. Will men turn their faces to the image of a coyote and embellish the story of my life until it becomes legend
?

He wandered around the library, admitting at last to the sorrow that tore his heart. He let his gaze travel along the collection, many pieces from many palaces and times, all with their message of the divine.

Why can I not believe
? Wise Coyote cried and nearly shouted aloud.

And then, as he turned back, his gaze fell upon the two statues, the Olmec holding the jaguar-baby and the were-jaguar caught in the instant of change. No. It was not true that he had no faith. Had he been given the choice, he would never have wished that these Olmec figurines, out of all the other images he had gathered in his life, would be the ones to prove true. Now he believed, and was afraid.

He could end it here. He could forget what he had seen and drop his plan to have Nine-Lizard Iguana Tongue “stolen” and brought to Tezcotzinco.

And then he would have to stand alone against the city across the lake.

The mysterious people of the Jaguar might prove uncertain allies, but submission to Hummingbird on the Left was worse.

Abruptly he walked from the library, summoned his most trusted warriors and gave them instructions. Then he went into his gardens to wait.

The old man was waiting for him in an audience hall the following morning. Wise Coyote wasted no time with greetings or chatter.

“I see that you took my advice,” said the old scribe, rubbing a bruise on his leathery arm. “I really thought I was being abducted by slave stealers until I saw the hills of Texcoco. Next time, please send someone with a little less enthusiasm or I will not last for more than one or two more encounters.”

Wise Coyote felt a twinge of regret that he had to use such methods, but it was the scribe himself who suggested it.

“My apologies,” he said curtly, “but haste required it.”

“It is well. I needed to see you. Mixcatl has become a prisoner in the House of Scribes. When the history that she and I are working on is completed, I fear she will be put to death.”

Wise Coyote leaned forward in his icpalli. “Why? Did someone else witness the attack on the boy from the calmecac? Was that boatboy a spy in disguise?” He halted, thinking that his words might be a complete mystery to Nine-Lizard, since the old man probably didn’t know about the incident.

“I know in part what happened that day,” said the scribe, fixing the king with a steady gaze that Wise Coyote found unsettling. “When Seven-Flower Mixcatl returned to the House of Scribes, she confided in me, although she did not understand what had happened to her. No. The imprisonment stems from another incident involving a young priest wearing a jaguar skin.”

Wise Coyote listened as Nine-Lizard related the events that had taken place when the girl had stumbled into the young cleric, who was visiting the House of Scribes on an official errand.

“I tried to smooth things over,” said Nine-Lizard with a sigh, “but too many people witnessed the incident. Charges of sorcery are being whispered against her and she has been made captive, supposedly for her own protection.”

The old man’s voice fell silent and Wise Coyote found that he could hear the sound of his own breathing. His icpalli creaked as he shifted his weight.

“Glyph-painter, I have never believed in sorcery, yet what I saw that morning in the plaza has no explanation,” he said quietly, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Who is this girl? Why is such strangeness visited on her?”

“The only ones who can answer that, tlatoani, are the Jaguar’s Children.”

“Then send word to them,” said the king impatiently.

“I have done so. They do not reply.”

“Why not?”

Wise Coyote watched as Nine-lizard took a deep breath and looked at the floor, his shoulders bowed as if he were remembering some old and deep shame. “They have turned their backs on me. It was an ancient crime and done in the recklessness of youth; I cannot tell you more.”

The king stared at the old man and drew his cloak about his shoulders.

“You are the last hope she has,” said Nine-Lizard. “The priests of Hummingbird will soon clamor for her death on the altar.”

“Why does it matter so much to you? Are there not other apprentice scribes who are worthy of your tutoring? Why this girl?”

He saw Nine-Lizard clench his gnarled old fists and look up into empty space as if challenging an enemy. “The Jaguar’s Children refuse to accept my word. Even I doubted at first, but there have been too many strange happenings that cannot be explained away. She is the incarnation of Tepeyolotli, Heart-of-the-Mountain, the one they have been waiting for through a thousand New Fires.”

Wise Coyote felt his heart beat fast in mixed dread and hope. Could this scribe girl indeed be what Nine-Lizard had implied, a descendant of the Olmec Magicians and an incarnation of the Jaguar? Could she lead him to the path he most sought or stand with him against the might of Tenochtitlan?

“Does the young woman know her heritage?”

“No, and she must be taught quickly or the powers that she has may become dangerous,” said Nine-Lizard. “Take her into your court, tlatoani, and take me as well. She will need someone to guide and teach her, and I, even with my poor skills, may be able to provide what she needs.”

“Once you advised me not to bring her to Tezcotzinco. What has changed your mind?”

“I will not lie to you, prince of Texcoco. Bringing Mixcatl to your court will have its own dangers. Indeed, if I find a way to return her to the Jaguar’s Children, her stay with you should, I pray, be short.”

The king knitted his brows. At first he had been eager to offer sanctuary to a gifted scribe who might be endangered by the priests of Left-Handed Hummingbird, but now…

He found it difficult to say the next words. “I confess some trepidation. After seeing what happened when the girl became enraged by teasing…”

“You fear she will actually become a great cat and you will have to cage her,” said Nine-Lizard. “In truth, I do not know if she can complete the transformation yet. I hope that my presence may prevent that from happening before she is ready.”

“There is also the history that you and she are preparing for Ilhuicamina.”

Nine-lizard stroked his curly beard. “Your library here is well known. Perhaps the document might be improved if we were to have access to your records as well as to those in the capital.”

“Someone will have to convince Ilhuicamina,” said Wise Coyote. Inwardly he winced, knowing
who that someone would be. And Tenochtitlan’s ruler hadn’t been very willing to listen to him lately. No matter. He would have to try. For his own sake as well as the girl’s.

He summoned the men who had “stolen” Nine-Lizard and bade them to return him to the House of Scribes. And to handle him with more respect.

Then Wise Coyote went into his quarters to plan his own trip to Tenochtitlan.

Wise Coyote’s reception at Ilhuicamina’s palace was somewhat different than he had anticipated. Instead of being made to wait while the Aztec finished other business, he was ushered into Ilhuicamina’s private suite of chambers and told that the Aztec would cut his business short to dine early that evening with him.

The tlatoani of Texcoco was at once delighted and yet wary. Ilhuicamina would not treat him so unless the Aztec wanted something and he wondered, with trepidation, what that favor might be. In a side-chamber within the Aztec’s living quarters. Wise Coyote prepared himself for the occasion, taking out the simple gold lip plug that he usually wore to keep the hole punched beneath the margin of his lower lip from closing. In its place, he inserted a much more ornate one with several finely wrought pieces and dangling chains held together with gold wire.

He put on his finest loincloth and richest cape, then put patterns on his face with a pottery stamp dipped in dark-brown paint. He bound up his hair into the honored warrior’s tail, then put on a gold pectoral, anklets and wristlets. And last of all, he settled his turquoise coronet on his head.

He was seated first, in a cushioned icpalli before the table. Even the customary screen would be taken away so that Wise Coyote might share the Speaker-King’s presence as well as the luxurious repast set before him.

Servants gave him a mug filled with chocolatl frothed with vanilla, and offered him one of the same gold straws that Ilhuicamina used.

Ilhuicamina came in, looking as majestic as ever in an embroidered turquoise cape, edged with scarlet and held with a worked-gold clasp. He too wore the blue coronet, with a tail of shimmering green quetzal and parrot feathers.

“That Snake Woman of mine,” he said, complaining about the male official who managed domestic affairs for the Aztec state. He plumped down in his wicker seat across from Wise Coyote, his cape billowing over the back. “How he bores me with his endless talk of trade and taxes! Well, I do not have to be bothered with it, but I wish he would learn that I do not even want to hear about the petty details.” He leaned forward, inhaling steamy aromas as richly dressed woman-servants brought in various dishes.

“Ah, a favorite of mine!” said Ilhuicamina, catching hold of a plate of rolled pancakes before the servant had placed it on the table. “You must have some of this, my esteemed friend. The pancakes are stuffed with the most delectable filling, stewed tadpoles and cactus worms.”

The first time Wise Coyote had faced this formidable dish of traditional Aztec cuisine, he had balked, but he had found the stuffed pancakes surprisingly tasty, even if a tadpole or two seemed to wriggle in his mouth. This appetizer was followed by a spicy dish of prickly-pear fruit
steamed with fish roe, and frogs with green chilies. The less exotic items included roast wild pork and pheasant from the hills.

Wise Coyote made the best of the opportunity. Even his own palace kitchen in Texcoco could not come up with as many and as varied a selection of dainties as was laid before the king of Tenochtitlan. Knowing that Ilhuicamina gave greater respect to those whose bellies were as capacious as his. Wise Coyote ate out of duty as well as enjoyment, but he did not indulge to excess, for he wanted to keep his mind clear.

Throughout the meal, Ilhuicamina alternated enthusiastic remarks about the food with grumbles about his Snake Woman. “I think I will ask the Council of Commanders to choose me a new Snake Woman,” Ilhuicamina said, as Wise Coyote was settling back into his icpalli and wiping his lips with a wetted cotton cloth.

“Does the present one not govern ably and well?” asked Wise Coyote, who knew the man by reputation, although not by acquaintance.

“He has the mind of a merchant and great enthusiasm for petty details. He is annoyingly lacking in fervor for the tasks I consider most important, such as the building of new temples in the conquered cities of my empire.” Ilhuicamina took an impatient swig of his chocolatl and splashed the drink on his face. Wise Coyote glanced away as the Aztec swore and ordered servants to clean him up.

Wise Coyote’s heart sank, for he knew what Ilhuicamina was about to ask of him. His engineering skills had been praised ever since the opening of the Chaultapec aqueduct. Who else would Ilhuicamina choose to supervise a large-scale building project?

“Hummingbird deserves to have only the most glorious temples raised to him. You, among all men, have the gifts to serve him well.”

“I am deeply honored by your faith in me. Which city is to be honored by Hummingbird’s first shrine outside Tenochtitlan?” Wise Coyote forced himself to ask.

“I have considered that question carefully. Since, naturally, you will want to make modifications as you build, the site should be close to your own source of stone. And, so that the project will not interfere unduly with your duties, I have ordered that it be located within your own city of Texcoco.”

Wise Coyote felt a flash of bitter hatred, but he kept his expression smooth.
He knows how the rites of Hummingbird sicken me. And he dares to imply that Texcoco stands among the list of the conquered, even though his armies have not yet set foot on my lands
.