Doctor Who_ Left-Handed Hummingbird - Kate Orman [25]
When he closed his eyes, he saw coloured patterns wheeling in the redness. He paused on a bridge, feeling dizzy, feeling as though he were tumbling down a slope and nothing could break his fall.
His old home swam into view, its blank‐faced walls looking onto the canal where he’d splashed about as a child. Mother had been dead for fifteen years now. She had perished on the battlefield of childbirth, taking her third child with her.
It wouldn’t be long before Achtli would be finding his own paradise.
The slaves met him at the door to the courtyard. ‘The Ticitl, the foreign midwife, is waiting for you in the room put aside for parties,’ they said. Achtli nodded, acknowledging their fawning greetings.
In the courtyard, his younger brother was fighting with a woman.
The priest watched as they circled and wheeled in the slow‐motion dance of practice combat. The woman’s skin was pale as bone, and her clothes were like nothing he had ever seen before. His father’s description had underemphasized the weirdness of his visitors.
‘Otiquihiyohuih!’ Iccauhtli exclaimed, stopping the fight. The warrior‐woman leaned on her sword, regarding him strangely. ‘You’ve worn yourself out coming here to visit us.’
‘I hope I’m not distracting you from the important things you must have to do,’ said Achtli, who was still looking at the woman. When he spoke the scars on his tongue became visible.
‘You’re in good health?’ asked Iccauhtli.
‘Our Lord is kind to me,’ said Achtli. ‘And your own fortunes?’
‘One can never tell,’ said Iccauhtli. ‘Father says I should be able to go back to school. I’ll continue my warrior training. He’s organizing a feast for the teachers. To help them make up their minds.’
Achtli nodded, pleased, his head ringing giddily. ‘You’ll make a fine warrior, my brother. Your luck is shifting at last, eh?’
‘I’m very grateful to the Lord of the Close and Near,’ Iccauhtli said.
Achtli clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Give my best wishes to our father, then.’ With a final glance at the strange woman and her sword, the priest went into the house.
The stranger sat on a reed mat, drinking chocolatl. It took Achtli’s eyes longer than usual to adjust to the gloom inside the house. The foreigner looked up as he came in, putting down his bowl of drink.
His eyes were blue.
‘Otiquihiyohuih,’ said the midwife. ‘You have expended a great deal of breath in coming here to see me.’
‘Please don’t get up,’ Achtli said faintly, automatically. ‘I don’t want to distract you from the important things you must have to do.’
‘On the contrary, I’ve been eager to meet you. I hope you’re in good health?’
‘I am enjoying the beneficence of our Lord. I hope your fortunes are good.’
‘Ah well,’ said the Doctor. ‘You never can tell.’
‘No, you can’t,’ said Achtli. He took the obsidian knife out of his tobacco pouch and moved forward.
* * *
Chapter 5
Into the Fire
‘As well as being the god of sun and war, Huitzilopochtli was the personal deity of the Mexica, the denizens of Tenochtitlan. However, to think of Aztec gods as separate entities is to miss an important feature of Aztec religion. The gods blurred into one another like hues on a colour wheel, each one an aspect of the others. One school of Aztec philosophy had it that there was only one deity, a single androgynous god with multiple faces.’
Bernice turned the page of the textbook. She’d been reading for hours, soaking up the details of Aztec society. There didn’t seem to be any aspect of their lives that wasn’t affected by religion – birth, death, school, agriculture, the market, war. The magical calendar spun its double wheel, churning out dates that were lucky or unlucky. The gods controlled every event, every person’s destiny. It was the sort of fatalism that was