Oh, but did she wish to tell them all of it and more, especially Necalli, who was now pacing back and forth, so well built and so handsome, still full of forcefulness and decisive, but haggard-looking now, with his shoulders sagging, if imperceptibly, and his arm held awkwardly against his body, the old bandage gone and the wounds underneath it looking painfully inflamed, glaring red, oozing liquids. Not a good sight. He certainly needed to visit a healer and with no delays. Still, he was the one they looked up to now as before, and not because he seemed to be less harmed than the rest of them.
“Wait for me here,” he repeated firmly, stopping his pacing and turning to face them.
His eyes narrowed dubiously against the picture they must have been presenting, crouching there on the gravel in various poses, spent or hurt to various degrees, with Patli being in the worst condition, sprawling in the dust, his hair sticky with blood where the boat’s side had evidently cracked his head open, probably while overturning – which explained his delirious state back in the water as well – his eyes moving rapidly under his shut eyelids, darting back and forth, wandering the worlds of the spirits, conversing with them. It was hair-raising in the beginning, his rapid unintelligible murmuring. Now it irritated her to no end.
“Take Ahuitzotl with you,” called out Axolin, curled on the gravel as well, unable to walk. She remembered this boy’s slight limp through their previous adventures, yet now, after the night in the lake and probably having it hit or twisted again, he could barely step on his hideously swollen ankle.
Necalli pursed his lips tight. “If he promises not to argue or nag.” He squashed the boy with a threatening glance. “Do you?”
“I don’t need your permission to go anywhere,” muttered his younger adversary, yet with less fighting spirit than of yore, his own lips pressed into an invisible line. “I can go and bring us help all by myself.”
“See?” growled Necalli, the nostrils of his prominent nose widening in no promising manner. “He is not coming with me!”
“Oh, you two!” Rolling his eyes, Axolin emitted a sound somewhere between a groan and a grunt. “Hopeless boneheads, both of you!”
She drew a deep breath, trying to disregard her headache. “I’ll come with you two.”
They all turned to stare and she fought the urge to close her eyes again, the piercing pain somewhere behind them annoying and persistent. “What? Why are you staring at me? I got hurt less than all of you put together. I have no wounds or broken limbs.”
“Mine isn’t broken,” muttered Axolin, dropping his gaze. “It’s just twisted.”
“And I didn’t hurt anything at all,” contributed Ahuitzotl readily, making Necalli roll his eyes in his turn.
“We’ll go out there and get help,” she said hastily before a new heated argument broke. “Beg the first fisherman we meet to take us back to Tenochtitlan, or at least to take Axolin and Patli, to sail them in a canoe.”
“And pay this nice helpful man how?” Axolin was still staring at the ground he crouched upon, glaring at it.
“We’ll find a way.” Decisive as always, Necalli didn’t hesitate any longer. “Will you hold on here on your own?” His eyes narrowed, assessing his friend.
“Of course. I’m not the problem here.” Axolin’s eyes brushed past Patli’s lethargic form. “Hope he is not hurt that badly as to just die on us.”
Chantli shuddered at the very thought. Oh, but Father would be so furious, with everything by now – her disappearance, and that of Miztli probably, and now Patli. And what if her cousin died because of this stupid adventure? Father cherished a soft spot for this particular nephew, the mysterious family member out of the northern mainland, with his Toltec accent and gifts for the written word worthy of calmecac training.
“Chantli is pretty. No one will say ‘no’ to her, even if we don’t have slaves to pay any cocoa beans right away.” Ahuitzotl’s voice broke into her unhappy reverie, somehow welcomed, severing the unwelcomed thread of her thoughts. “No commoner will tell us to go and jump into the lake if she is with us.”
“Smart aleck,” muttered Necalli, an amused half smile twisting his lips. His gaze leapt at her, lingering for a heartbeat, making her stomach tighten. There was a question in his eyes, a wondering inquiry. It made her expectant and relieved at the same time, expectant that he would look at her again and relieved when he took his eyes away. An unfamiliar feeling, strangely pleasing. From the moment of the first light, it had been like that, since the dawn-break found them here, sprawled on this neglected piece of shore, surrounded by marshy dirt and the crisply rustling reeds, clearly a place even Tlatelolco commoners didn’t favor, as any such coastline should be swarming with canoes at this time of the morning, brimming with fishermen engaging in their trade.
“Well, let us hope it is still part of Tlatelolco, this place, and not just a stupid side of a deserted island with nothing on it.” Motioning with his head, the calmecac boy froze for a moment, listening intently. The new surge of a distant hum that sounded like hundreds of people shouting all at once erupted once again, impossible to miss. Somewhere far away, people were shouting, a serious crowd. “Judging by this noise, it is connected somewhere big and mighty. Tlatelolco, most surely. The stupid provincials don’t even bother to make use of their entire island!”
Ahuitzotl snickered, charging up the shoreline already, heading for the bushes adorning it. “They’ll be taught a lesson and soon!” Impatiently, he waved at them. “Are you coming?”
Shooting an uncomfortable glance at both tiredly crouching Axolin and helplessly sprawling Patli, she got to her feet, welcoming the chance to get away from the gloom of this place, consumed with guilt on this same account.
“Are you sure you will be well?”
The wounded boy shrugged indifferently, but as their eyes met, his lips twisted in a surprisingly open, mischievous grin. “Make sure that our hothead Necalli doesn’t land into trouble, will you? Keep a close eye on that boy.”
“Shut up,” was the other calmecac boy’s parting words, already drawing away in the direction Ahuitzotl was hurrying to, springy and sure of himself, as though no recent hardships had them in more trouble than they were able to cope with. “Look who is talking about landing badly.” His chuckle trailed after him like the edge of his mangled cloak, in no better condition than a stepped-on rag by now, grayish and wrinkled, stinking of rotten fish. “The boy who could not put his ankle right, not even when thrashing in the water.”
This time, it was the other youth’s turn to demand shutting up action and with much gusto. Chantli felt her mood improving by leaps and bounds. Oh yes, they’d manage to get home in one piece. Somehow. Those boys would make it happen yet.
The briskness of their pace served to lighten her mood even more, signaling that not only her previous despondency was lifting. Necalli had clearly welcomed the proposed change of activity, or rather inactivity, the opportunity to do something. As battered and exhausted as he looked, he was a doer, that boy. Shyly, she side-glanced him, taking in the broadness of his shoulders and the muscled chest, clearly visible under the remnants of his torn muddied cloak that he still wore as though it was the expensive neat cotton garment it used to be, proudly and with a certain amount of chic. Not as tall as his friend, but so much better looking, with his cheekbones so prominent and his eyes so large and nicely spaced. Blushing, she took her gaze away. What was she thinking? Oh mighty Coatlicue, Mother of Gods, but what silly thoughts those were!
Hastening her step, she waved at Ahuitzotl, motioning him to keep close. Another true rascal and a tough little thing. After the night in the lake, lost and terrified to death, all of them, a ten summers old should be downcast now, or at least frightened, huddling on the shore, asking for his mother; not seeking additional adventures that very well might hamper their rescue efforts, putting them in more trouble, maybe.
“Would you listen to this?” Necalli was shaking his head, frowning against the new outburst of shouting that
erupted now much louder, with true zeal. “What are they doing out there?”
From behind the rustling bushes that grew sparser as they progressed, they could glimpse the shape of the towering pyramid, distant but impossible to miss. A smaller replica of Tenochtitlan’s Great Pyramid, two temples and all. Tlatelolco’s island was of about the same size, tracing it roots back to the same beginning the Mexica Aztecs of Tenochtitlan brandished, so close that it was sometimes considered to be just an extension of Tenochtitlan’s main island. Yet there, the similarities ended. Tlatelolco did not participate in the war against the Tepanecs and it had not flourished ever since. It tried very hard to keep up, but in Tenochtitlan’s shadow, nothing could thrive, or so Father would say. Tenochtitlan was the capital of the world, with provinces aplenty, ruling huge parts of the mainland, building lavishly, conquering wide. Still, the neighboring island tried to emulate whatever they could, like replicating the shape of the main pyramid or making the local ruler behave as though he wasn’t accountable to anyone but the gods.
“There are plenty of canoes massed out there in the water,” reported Ahuitzotl excitedly, coming back on the run, spilling down the mild incline they were ascending, having rushed back and forth, unable to just walk. “And I mean plenty. Twenties by twenties!”
Necalli hastened his step, forcing them to break into a near run. But was it hard to keep up with him! And he didn’t even turn his head to make sure she was still near and hadn’t fallen behind. Chantli pressed her lips tight. Why should she care about something like that? At this point, all she needed was to return home, in one piece and unharmed, punished not too badly preferably. But what would Father or Mother do to her? She had never absented herself from home for longer than an occasional evening, plenty of unauthorized running around but always in small amounts, not very noticeable. Yet this time, oh mighty deities, this time, she would be done for, that much was certain. And she must have looked dreadful too after all they had been through, not pretty and not attractive, despite the boy Ahuitzotl’s claim. Involuntarily, her hands strayed to her hair, trying to smooth down the tousled braids.
“What’s wrong?” The smaller boy was peering at her, his wide forehead puckered with too many creases.
“Nothing!” Now she felt her cheeks washing with a hot wave as well. Bother this! But why didn’t the little rascal do something useful, like running ahead again?
“Are there people in those boats?” Necalli was asking. “How many?”
The boy shook his head vigorously, his yet uncut hair jumping high. “No people. They are empty, those boats.” His eyes sparkled. “We can take one.”
Necalli’s teeth were out again, chewing his lower lip, making a mess out of it. “With all the commotion out there in the city, and the shores being abandoned like that…” he muttered, shaking his head with an obvious doubt. “Something is wrong here.”
As though eager to reinforce his suspicion, the distant shouting erupted anew, the clamor of too many throats shouting at once.
“There are no ceremonies to be held until the end of this moon. Are there?”
The boy Ahuitzotl shrugged, unperturbed. “Maybe they are celebrating something.”
“Like what?” Necalli made a face. “It has to be something royal to have people of this city to gather on the Central Plaza and scream like the World of the Fifth Sun is about to end.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not to mention this multitude of boats of yours.”
“We can sneak to their Plaza and see what it is all about.”
“Start with sneaking back to these boats and see what’s with those.”
Ahuitzotl’s face began molding into a familiar expression of utter stubbornness, eyes narrowing into slits, lips a thin line to match.
“We need to get one of these boats and fast,” interrupted Chantli hurriedly, anxious to stop yet another verbally violent exchange. “Patli needs help and so does Axolin. And you too.” She glanced at the arm Necalli was once again holding awkwardly, wrapped in the supportive grip of his good hand. “If we can take one of the boats…”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been saying.” The calmecac boy snorted impatiently. “Why do you argue all the time?”
She gasped at this unexpected attack. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m saying what needs to be done.” But what an annoying thing this boy was! “You are the one angry all the time.”
Ahuitzotl snickered, then hastened his step, eager to reach the top of the incline before they did. Against her will, Chantli chuckled. The little rascal was not about to let them take the credit for his discovery. Which, indeed, was impressive, she saw, hastening her step in her turn, determined to bypass both of her companions and not to just follow. That would be giving too much honor to their dominant would-be leader. Fancy flaring at her like that!
“See? I told you!” Ahuitzotl’s voice trailed behind him as the boy broke into a run again, down the incline this time, waiting for no followers or reinforcements.
“Wait!” Shielding his eyes with his hand, Necalli scanned the view of the twisting marshland, looking perturbed. The boats, indeed, seemed to be amassed in twenties upon twenties, tucked in an artificially made inlet most of them, but some adorning the shallow shoreline, splashing in the thick reeds, surrounded by waterfowl wandering all around, the rest of the marsh teeming with heron and ducks. “There are people there. One can see that most clearly.”
“Where?” She shielded her eyes in her turn. The boats closer to the marshes seemed to be swaying lazily, with no one to supervise or make use of them. “Why aren’t they out there fishing?”
He shrugged. “Has to do with all the yelling and screaming in the city, I bet. We picked a bad day to flounder all over these shores.” Another shrug. “Or maybe not. If we can pinch one of these vessels without being caught doing this… and if we managed to navigate it back where we left the others…” His frown flickered with helplessness, relating the depth of his exhaustion. “But we won’t be piling there in a stupid heap. I’ll be taking you back by the way of the causeway, when we manage to find it.”
Her stomach squeezed painfully, constricting as though she had eaten something bad. “I’ve yet to thank you for what you did back there in the lake,” she muttered, hardly recognizing her own voice, so low and throaty it sounded. “I… you saved me, and I –”
She could feel him tensing by her side. “It was nothing,” he murmured, eyes firmly upon the view of the spreading shore but not shielded anymore, not trying to focus.
“No, it wasn’t.” She paid his gallant protests no attention, suddenly needing to talk about it, to say it, the memories vivid, overwhelming, threatening. “I would have drowned. I know I would have. It was so scary! That darkness and nowhere to go. Not even sounds… just water. I was so terrified, and I couldn’t even breathe and that boat, it was everywhere. It wanted to have me drown!” Pressing her arms around herself didn’t help. The tremors were bad, and the trembling of her voice, climbing to shrill heights. “I didn’t… I was so scared!”
When his palm touched her arm, warily, unsure of itself, she shuddered but didn’t move until it slid up to rest on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly, hesitantly. It banished some of the desperate fright, just the edge of it, but enough to make her feel better, capable of dealing with the terrible memory.
Afraid that the good feeling would disperse, she shifted involuntarily, leaning against his warmth, needing it. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. He didn’t move away, but she could feel him freezing, holding his breath. Then, hesitantly, his arm wrapped around her with surprising assertiveness, pressing strongly, with firm resolution. Heartened, she let it pull her closer, guide her toward the safety of his chest, to snuggle there and feel safe, at long last. The most glorious feeling. Oh, but now she could cope with it all, the memory of the darkness and the muddy water and the terrible bottomless fear, and the ordeals that were still ahead; the need to steal a new boat, the necessity to enter it as, despite his promises to take her ac
ross the causeway, she could not let them take the responsibility of rescuing her cousin all by themselves, the prospect of facing her father and the depth of his rage – but what would Father do? – all these weren’t so scary, possible to deal with as long as he was there, next to her and ready to help. Inside his warmth, it felt as though she could deal with those challenges.
His heart was beating strangely, very strong, very fast. Listening to its tempo, she felt the calmness dispersing once again. But what were they doing, snuggling here like that, on the top of the incline and at the mercy of every wandering gaze, at the place they weren’t supposed to be in the first place? And above it all, what did it mean, this incredibly good feeling and the wish to stay in his arms, or even to sneak her own around his torso, to press closer, to do… what? His body was tense against hers, not cozy or relaxed, not like before.
“We must… we…” His struggle with words made her senses come back to order and she slipped away hastily, embarrassed to no end.
“Yes, we must…”
To their left, a commotion was growing, drawing their attention from their private embarrassment, welcomed in its timing. Down the incline, many of the boats were moving now, sliding between the reeds, rowing around but in a strange fashion, as though not eager to leave the shoreline but rather to wander about, with no aim and no purpose. Fascinated, she followed the agitated fluttering of the spooked waterfowl with her gaze, a multitude of ducks, wild geese, heron, and other winged hunters of fish scattering frantically, frightened into a hasty flight.
“What are they doing?”
“Fishing, I suppose.” Her companion was studying the unfolding show with his eyes narrowed, fitting well in the broadness of his face, above the sharpness of his well-defined cheekbones. So handsome! She felt her own cheeks beginning to burn.
To concentrate on the silliness of his words helped. “Fishing? One doesn’t fish in the reeds. What would they pull from this marsh besides frogs and axolotl-salamanders? And one doesn’t need a canoe to do that.”