Doctor Who_ Left-Handed Hummingbird - Kate Orman [24]
‘I must go to court today. There is a great deal of work to be finished before this old man can join in the festivities. But I will accompany you to the temple precinct, and request that my son Achtli be released from his duties to speak with you.’
‘You have befriended me,’ said the Doctor. ‘Thank you.’
Ace and Iccauhtli circled one another. Freed of his slave status, the judge’s son had tied his hair up into a warrior’s topknot, and painted a single black stripe across his face. He wore only a purple loincloth and a pair of sandals. ‘They are not ill‐matched,’ Ce Xochitl said, polite surprise in his voice. ‘I have never before seen a warrior who was a woman – or a doctor who was not a woman. You must have come from further away than I thought.’
‘I’m glad that, despite our differences, we’re able to understand one another. Thank you for all your help – and for your hospitality.’
Ce Xochitl nodded politely. ‘Take care she does not damage you,’ he called to his son, laughing.
‘Enough of this,’ spat Iccauhtli, throwing down his sword.
* * *
The Great Temple rose like a geometric mountain from the sacred enclosure. The Doctor shaded his eyes with his hands, trying to guess its height. Perhaps two hundred feet. The view from the top must be spectacular. Briefly spectacular.
‘Indiana Jones, eat your heart out,’ said Ace. ‘Are we going to take a look at the top, then?’
‘There’s only one way to get to the top of those stairs,’ said the Doctor ominously.
Huge carved stone serpents curled at the base of the mammoth staircase, leading up to the hidden top of the solid pyramid of stone, where the twin shrines of Tlaloc and Huitzilopochtli sat side by side. A river of black stain ran down the steep steps.
The sacred precinct was a vast square of stone built on the firmest part of Tenochtitlan’s muddy island. Yesterday the market had been here; now the farmers and artisans had gone home again, and only officials and priests stalked the stucco paving, intent on their preparations for the next day’s dedication.
‘Reminds me of Uruk,’ said Ace. ‘Could we be dealing with another Ishtar? Some alien or other mucking up Earth’s history?’
‘Possibly. Possibly.’ The Doctor seemed agitated. ‘It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. I’m hoping Achtli might be able to provide us with some.’
Ace watched a priest strut by, his body painted jet‐black, his hair matted with blood and ashes. ‘Meeting one of these blokes up close should be a real joy. I hope he’s brushed his teeth.’
‘Perhaps you could lend him your toothbrush.’ They exchanged glances. ‘I wish you’d leave your little anachronisms behind.’
‘What, the premature discovery of dental hygiene might wreck Aztec society?’
‘No, but lipstick and sunglasses certainly attract a lot of unnecessary attention.’
Ace decided to change the subject. ‘How often have aliens interfered in Earth’s history, anyway?’
‘Very often. There were the Osirians in Egypt, the Exxilons in Peru, Scaroth all over the place. The Timewyrm, of course, and various Dalek sorties, and –’
‘And you’re Merlin. Great. Why do these bug‐eyed monsters always pick on Earth?’
‘Bug‐eyed monsters?’ said the Doctor, with mock indignity.
Ace nodded at Ce Xochitl, who was coming towards them across the precinct. ‘Achtli will be able to return home this afternoon,’ the judge said. ‘He must return to the temple in time for tomorrow morning’s ceremony, but you may speak with him until this evening.’
‘Excellent,’ said the Doctor. ‘Thank you once again, honoured judge.’
‘You have befriended me, honoured midwife,’ said Ce Xochitl.
Ace looked at the Doctor. ‘Midwife?’
‘Healer,’ he translated. ‘Curer. Stop laughing.’
* * *
Achtli followed the streets beside the canals, watching the canoes go by in slow motion. He felt so light, as though a gust of wind might blow him into the air, rolling down the canal like a petal on the breeze.
Children scurried out of the way of the young priest, watching with round and respectful eyes. He was painted black,