Obsidian Puma (The Aztec Chronicles Book 1)
He shrugged, not impressed. “You don’t want to wander in those reeds with no special reason, believe me on that. Frogs and axolotls or not. I have this arm to prove the inadvisability of such roaming around those marshes.” As though succumbing to a weakness, his eyes slid toward the angry mess of his limb, lingering there for a heartbeat, his face contorting momentarily, the wide lips pressing grimly, determine to dominate… what? His fear? Exhaustion? Both?
Without thinking, she reached out, touching his bare upper arm with the tips of her fingers, caressing it lightly, giving off her warmth. It was unsettling to see him like this, always so dominant and decisive, spilling instructions and orders, making it all work. Unsettling yes, yet pleasing too, making her feel powerful in some unknown, indecipherable way. A thrilling sensation.
“It’s all going to be well, you know? Your arm will heal and we all will return home, and everything will go back to what it was.” She pressed her fingers lightly, enjoying the new sensation. “You’ll see.”
He nodded stiffly, still staring at his wounded arm, but with less desperation than before, deep in thought.
“What are you thinking?”
His grin flashed briefly, accompanied with a flicker of amusement. Not nearly enough but more than she counted on to achieve. “I think that you are not like the other girls.”
Her stomach squeezed. “Why?”
He shrugged again, his grin spreading, one side of his mouth climbing up faster than the other. “I don’t know. You tell me. Are all commoner girls like that?”
“Like what?” That ‘commoners’ bit was annoying, taking the edge off her excitement.
His grin widened. “Brave. Argumentative. Giving measure for measure.” A light frown appeared, shadowing his grin, but only a little; not a grim frown but a mischievous one, playfully mocking. It made him look impossibly boyish, no better than Ahuitzotl. “Running around like boys, speaking out, doing what they like…” The mocking spark intensified. “Knowing things about fishing…”
She pulled her hand away. “I’m not like that at all!”
“Yes you are.” His beam was one of the widest, shadowed by no more misgivings or fears. Was it worthwhile pulling him out of his previous despondency? Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure. “Even now, I don’t know what you will do. Scream or hit or curse or just sulk and make faces.”
She was pondering all those possibilities and worse, and his seeing through her so easily didn’t help. “I’ll do none of that,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “I’ll go and look for Ahuitzotl and I will not run around with you anymore, ever. Find yourself a noble girl for your next adventure.”
He made a face, his grin retreating, disappearing rapidly. “We did well enough with no girls in our adventures, I and Axolin. We’ll be all right.” A curt shrug had an offended quality to it. “You can enjoy your precious royal pilli’s company all you like, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Fine!” She tossed her head high.
Turning away and beginning to storm down the grass-covered incline, made her feel better. What an annoyingly arrogant piece of rotten fish this boy was, talking about her like that, and to her face, of all things! Just who did he think he was to imply that she was behaving like boys and not like respectable girls from his noble parts of the city? As though a girl couldn’t come along if she wanted to. Admittedly, Mother had carried on and on about this same thing, for days on end recently, carping on feminine duties and responsibilities and appropriate behavior, but it wasn’t as though she behaved inappropriately, did she? Or at least, not too inappropriately. She did her duties, spun maguey threads and weaved enough material to keep Mother happy, and helped with cooking and cleaning when their only servant was busy at the market or on various other errands, or when Father needed to clean the workshop.
A longing for home twisted her heart. Oh, but they must be truly furious now. Or maybe terribly worried. She had worried all day when Miztli didn’t come home, and now she had been missing for the same amount of time, if not worse? And Patli too. Oh mighty deities, but they must be worried sick!
“Oh no! What’s that little brat up to now?”
Necalli’s exclamation jerked her from her unhappy reverie. Coming from some distance – but was he anxious to make his point by going separately, even if heading in the same direction! – it drew her attention against her will, his eyes wide open and incredulous, his hand up and pointing, indicating a smallish figure that was making its way among the nearest cluster of reeds, creeping in an unmistakable fashion.
“He is going to try and snatch one of the canoes! Stupid rodent. He’ll never make it.”
The cluster of boats he pointed at looked, indeed, somewhat removed, seemingly unattended, just a few vessels tied together, swaying in the shallow ripples. Yet from their elevated position, it was easy to see that some fishermen were heading their way, following the twisted shoreline or wading through the reeds, waving their hands agitatedly, spooking more of the waterfowl, plenty of those. Why?
From the other side of the incline and their previous vantage point that they had abandoned without much thinking, the clamor was growing by the moment, turning into a roaring wave. A large body of people, unmistakable now. Interweaving with the wild flapping of too many wings and their owners’ agitated outcries, it created such tumult as though the entire world had gone mad or was shattering. Was this how the previous four worlds ended? The question did cross Chantli’s mind as she stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating fast, threatening to jump out of her chest. What was happening?
Closing the distance in one powerful leap, Necalli was already hovering next to her, looking like a spooked animal himself, all ears and senses, ready to pounce or flee, or do both. It made her taut nerves relax, if only a little. This boy would know what to do. For good measure, she pressed closer.
The first wave of running people appeared at the top of the incline opposite to the one they had just left, coloring the brightness of the skyline in too vivid a celebration of colors. Their cloaks swaying, oiled buns of hair glittering, faces red and glistening with sweat and maybe remnants of the paint, the men, clearly warriors, spilled toward the shore, partly charging, partly rolling down the incline, a lethal radiant wave.
Eyes glued to the terrible wave, she watched in a numb stupor, noting that not everyone was surging down the incline, eager to storm the lake. Some halted on the top of the incline, clearly about to use its good vantage point. To do what? The long pieces of woven material looked dangerous in their hands, twirling like vicious snakes. The rest kept running, their spears and other menacing-looking devices balanced easily in their hands, swaying deftly, ready to attack.
In another heartbeat, Necalli’s hand was locked around her elbow, pulling her firmly, making her sway.
“There! Run down there!” he yelled. “Back… back where we came from!”
Struggling to break free, uncomfortable with him half dragging, half pulling her along, she tried to make her mind work. What was happening? His idea of getting out of the lethal wave’s reach was good, oh yes. But why were these people charging? The warriors, oh mighty deities, but what did this mean? Above their heads and to their left, the air was swishing, buzzing with flying objects, hissing dangerously.
“Here!”
Again Necalli’s hand was yanking her sideways, pulling behind a small bluff, nothing but a cluster of rocks laid there by someone, for whatever purpose, where some of the canoes were still wavering, still unattended. Where was Ahuitzotl? Behind their backs, the lake churned with the desperate flapping and screeching of the falling birds, twenties upon twenties of those, tumbling into the water, making it froth.
“What is happening?”
He was already back on his feet, bent but ready to lunge. “Stay here!”
“No! I’ll come with you!” Relatively safe or not, she wasn’t about to remain alone in a world that made no sense anymore. Whatever was happening here in this neighbo
ring island city, it was wild and…
In another heartbeat, an additional commotion erupted from behind the reeds, where they had spotted their royal companion slinking away in the fashion of a marketplace thief. Furious plopping of several feet or paddles, accompanied by shouts and the already familiar flapping of wings and crowing and cackling of the spooked birds made them dive behind their meager means of cover, their hearts thumping.
Flying missiles filled the sky again, like a flock of pouncing birds of prey, plunging into the lake or raining around them in a lethal outpour, a terrible rain. Covering her head, out of an instinct rather than as a thoughtful reaction, Chantli whimpered, frightened for real. But it was a nightmare! The yowling of the hurt fowl, another thing to rain on them now, made her blood freeze. Such a terrible sound.
When it seemed to lessen, she didn’t want to uncoil, but Necalli was already back on his feet, dragging her up, his forehead scratched, eyes wild.
“Did, did y-you…” She tried to make her lips work, her tongue as heavy as a slab of stone, refusing to be moved. “Wh-what…”
People were running toward them, quite a large group, their loincloths soaked, their feet covered with mud.
“What are you doing here, you stupid halfwit kids?” someone yelled. “Go away from here, go!”
Their hands clutched sticks, or maybe those were paddles, she noticed, again too numb to react. Or maybe clubs. She couldn’t tell for certain, unable to see properly, Necalli’s wide shoulders blocking some of her view, getting between her and the approaching fishermen, comforting. Heartened, she peeked out carefully just as another wave of running feet began to reach them from the opposite direction. Sandaled feet this time, her instincts told her, not barefoot commoners like the fishermen who were very close now, clearly visible, sweat-covered and upset.
“What is going on?” Necalli shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard better. “What are you doing here?”
“Go away!” was the shouted response.
From another part of the twisting shore, a new bout of shooting could be heard most clearly, this same dangerous droning. Her eyes swept along the bumpy earth, taking in the round objects that dotted it, smooth glittering balls the size of a bird’s egg, glassy and inviting to touch. Quickly, she picked one up. It felt good in her hand, fitting.
“What is it?”
Necalli was looking in the direction of the shooting, shielding his eyes. “Those are clay missiles,” he muttered, not taking his gaze away. “From their slings. They are shooting waterfowl with it, hunting it.” His face twisted in a familiar half-mocking grimace. “Don’t ask me why they do that. This Tlatelolcan stupidity is beyond me.”
The fishermen were already busy picking up the fallen birds, collecting the warm, dripping, sometimes still-fluttering corpses and the clay missiles that took them, tugging at an occasional arrow or even a spear. But what was this strange event all about? Why were Tlatelolco warriors hunting the local birds and why in such quantities?
Quite a few warriors were descending the incline as well, some arrogant and high-bearing, strolling ahead, others in an obvious hurry. She could feel Necalli muttering to himself, again tense and ill at ease but unable not to comment. Were those warriors anxious to retrieve their weaponry or were they eager to inspect their catch, to make sure no one claimed their achievements? Somehow, she knew the answer to that.
“Come.” Necalli’s hand pulled her back toward the shore and away from the nearing warriors, obviously preferring the fisherman to the unasked-for encounter with authorities of the city they weren’t supposed to be touring as of now.
At this very moment, another commotion, this time in the lake itself, erupted in an outburst of indignant shouts and some frantically vigorous plopping that sounded like paddling. A faltering canoe was zigzagging its way, trying to break clear of the encasing reeds and the dead and wounded poultry fluttering among those, crowing and cackling. So much noise!
The knot in her stomach tightened anew. No, there could be no mistake of the cloaked figure perching in its midst, wielding the longish pole awkwardly, with notable lack of skill. She knew who it was before her dismayed eyes confirmed the assumption.
The fishermen were clearly yelling, three of them wallowing in the shallow water, aiming to reach the floundering vessel while still on foot. Not a difficult feat, she reflected, breaking into a run herself, not thinking any of it through.
All around and further up the incline and along the shore, people were wandering, simple crowds and warriors mixed in an atypical fashion, talking excitedly, picking their missiles and sometimes their catch, comparing or maybe arguing about it – it was easy to recognize that body language. Further up, on the clearer and comfortably elevated ground, with the distant silhouette of the Great Pyramid disclosing the presence of the city not very far away, clusters of litters huddled together, with cloaked figures strolling around those, keeping the crowds away. The watching nobility? But what was this event?
She paid those questions little heed, concerned with the slippery ground under her feet and the only important question looming above it all – what to do? How to help Ahuitzotl to get away with the stolen property, or at least not to end up dragged to a court, accused of as grave a charge as a proven theft. She had seen enough marketplace courts in session to know how hard the judges would go on thieves in particular, the most abominable crime of them all.
Sliding down the slippery pebbles, she saw one of the chasers reaching the faltering boat, himself chest-deep in the water but not giving up, attempting to grab its wavering side. The next thing she saw was the cumbersomely long paddle striking out, colliding against the man’s chest, pushing him away deftly, with surprising skill. The act not only put the stolen canoe out of the grabbing hand’s reach but also gave it a push into a desirable direction. She felt like cheering the wild rascal. But that boy was good!
“Don’t shoot!” The shouting broke behind her back, not very far, jerking her off her temporary cloud of triumphant glowing. Yelled in a familiar voice, it made her heart lose its tempo. “Wait, wait! Don’t shoot!”
Necalli’s disheveled silhouette, outlined clearly against the blinding midday sun, was jumping up and down, his hands waving wildly, desperately, as though trying to attract the attention of the warriors further up the incline, a few of whom strolled toward their part of the shore and the minor commotion upsetting it. One of the warriors slowed his pace and was messing with the wide leather strap he held expertly in one hand, the other busy fitting a familiar-looking round ball into it, working with thorough competence. Another of his peers was scanning the ground, his strap of leather as ready and as eager, but missing a missile probably, something the earth offered in great quantities in this particular place.
“Don’t shoot!”
She watched Necalli break into a run, looking grotesque in his torn, wrinkled cloak, his hair sticking everywhere, one arm swollen, his other hand holding it awkwardly, pressing to his chest, his gait the only self-assured trait but even this not perfectly even, having a panicked quality to it, indecently hurried. Not a vision of a proud, good-naturedly arrogant calmecac pupil – anything but.
The man searching the ground straightened up, triumphant. A quick exchange and the other warrior, who had already stood very upright, legs wide apart, eyes narrowed, boring into the occurrence in the water, in the direction of the stolen canoe, his sling up and ready, relaxed a little. Another quick exchange, a new outburst of laughter, a wandering glance at the running Necalli.
Then it dawned upon her and she broke into as wild a run as that of her companion, oblivious of the slippery ground and the way the nearby bushes flogged her legs, as though trying to stop her. Now she knew why Necalli was so upset, what was so important about two warriors with their lethal slings out and ready, about to engage in one more competition, not on the flying fowl this time.
Ahuitzotl! They were going to shoot the thief down!
By the time
she could hear their words, Necalli was already in front of them, blocking their view, breathing heavily, talking in a rush.
“Move away, boy!” One of the warriors pushed the intruder rudely, not attempting to be polite. But of course! They were warriors, above everyone but the royal family and the Palace’s dwellers. What was Necalli thinking?
Apparently, nothing good. Caught by surprise, it seemed, he wavered, struggling not to lose his balance, waving his bad arm clumsily in order to make it happen. By the time she halted beside them, he was still on his feet, glowing worse than a brazier in the melting room, blocking their way.
“You are asking for a good beating, boy, aren’t you?” The second slinger, a squat heavyset man of not such a young age, raised his leather strap with clear meaning. Necalli didn’t stir, staring at his assailant, only his eyes alive and blazing out of the stony mask.
She didn’t wait for him to continue. “Wait, please!”
To say that and not to take a step back, or quite a few steps, actually, took almost all of her courage, but she didn’t move either when the incredulous gazes leapt at her, both men turning to stare, their expression wavering between an open amusement and a direful indignation, undecided. It was easy to see how upset one of them was as he moved into her view promptly, curiosity-consumed.
“What’s with the stupid youths popping up on us like pieces of wood in the lake?” The laughter of the first warrior did not reflect the fury of his companion. “Go away, you wild things. Go back to the crowds up there.”
“You can’t shoot that boy in the boat,” repeated Necalli firmly, sweat glittering upon his forehead, accumulating in his pointy eyebrows. He blinked it away forcefully. “He is an important pilli of the royal family. If you shoot him, you will be executed.” His chin jutted firmly. “And so will your families.”
The second man regarded him grimly. “Stop talking nonsense and go away. The royal family members are out there, crowding the dais and the litters.”