Blood & Fur

Chapter Forty-Eight: Cat & Mouse

I woke up from the Underworld to find Nenetl snoring lightly on my chest.

It was quite a comforting sight after my harrowing night in the House of Jaguars. I almost felt like a warrior returning home to his loving wife after a grueling, horrific campaign; which I supposed I was, in a way.

“Mmm…” Nenetl stirred under the bed, her eyelids slowly opening. “You’re awake?”

“Did I disturb you?” I asked guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, no, don’t apologize,” Nenetl immediately reassured me with a small yawn. “You looked so troubled in your sleep, so I…” She blushed slightly. “I, um, I tried to warm you up so you didn’t feel alone.”

She did? Her concern moved me, though the only warmth I felt in the Underworld was that of my own flames.

“It helped,” I lied. It seemed to please Nenetl, which made me feel a little easier about it. “I suffered from a terrible nightmare, where I was being hunted in a forest.”

“Hunted?” Nenetl looked at me with a horrified expression. “By men?”

“Beasts.” I found it worrying that Nenetl immediately thought of fellow humans first rather than something more mundane. “Monsters.”

I pondered how to explain that I solved the issue by burning the hunting ground to cinders while laughing, when an idea crossed my mind. One that would throw Iztacoatl off her game.

“Itzili saved me,” I lied. “My feathered tyrant fell upon my pursuers and slaughtered them all.”

“I can imagine it,” Nenetl said with a light giggle. She didn’t even question my tale. “I’ve heard that he has grown very big.”

“Indeed, he has.” I feigned the utmost concentration, like a prophet receiving a revelation. “It must be a sign...”

Nenetl frowned in confusion. “A… sign?”

“Of divine favor.” It took all of my willpower not to laugh at my own plan. I dearly needed to enjoy myself a bit after my gruesome night. “Did you dream tonight, Nenetl?”

“M-me?” Nenetl suddenly let go of my hands and put some space between us. “Oh, uh… it’s nothing important…”

Her reaction immediately caught my attention. The longer I looked at her, the more she did her best not to face my gaze. The streak of pink on her white face only worsened.

“Promise me not to mock me,” she finally asked. “Please.”

“I promise,” I replied, hiding my amusement behind a calm facade. Her shyness never failed to put me in a playful mood.

“I… I dreamed of you. That we…” Nenetl joined her hands and giggled in embarrassment. “That we… you know…”

I struggled to suppress my laughter, which caused Nenetl to turn scarlet.

“You promised not to mock me!” Nenetl protested, though she grinned ear to ear. “Iztac…”

“I’m not mocking you.” It might not stay a dream forever either. “Not at all.”

Part of me desired to cross that line too. To take her into my arms, return her affection, and cherish her. One thing alone stopped me from doing so.

“Nenetl,” I said.

She met my eyes, slightly surprised. “Y-yes?”

“There’s a dark side to me,” I confessed. “One you won’t like.”

I couldn’t go further than that without informing her. In time, I would tell her everything. But for now, I could only hint at the truth.

Nenetl stared at me with no small amount of hesitation. I could read her like an open scroll. She had sensed it before too; my pain, my anger, my cruelty. She didn’t yet understand its depths, but she knew I was not a gentle person. Not entirely.

“It’s just a side, Iztac, not all of you,” she replied with a smile; almost wisely too. “I would rather keep looking at the bright one.”

After tonight’s slaughter, being reminded that she saw a bright side in me at all filled me with relief. Being capable of great cruelty didn’t mean that I had to practice it.

A limb is not the body, I told myself. A part does represent the whole.

“I see,” I whispered with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, Nenetl.”

“Do you…” Nenetl smiled shyly, her hands joining together. “Do you want to stay a bit longer with me?”

“Of course.” I chuckled to myself and lightly kissed her on the cheek, much to her delight. “Breakfast will wait.”

I heard her quarters’ doors opening, unfortunately ruining the moment.

Nenetl immediately yelped in embarrassment as she retreated under the blankets. Much to my utter annoyance, Tayatzin entered the bedroom with a set of guards. I was about to scold him for interrupting us when I noticed the grim scowl on his face.

“Forgive my interruption, Your Divine Majesty.” Most worrying of all, he sounded almost concerned. “Lady Iztacoatl wishes to see you with haste.”

I had grown to hate that sentence with a passion.

The underground corridors echoed with my footsteps.

I had an easier time remembering my path this time. Comparing these tunnels with the map of the secret passages that Eztli provided me a few weeks earlier let me gain a better understanding of my location. I was almost certain that Iztacoatl’s chambers lay buried under the palace’s western wing.

It made some deal of sense. The Nightlords divided the cardinal positions between themselves, with Iztacoatl keeping nominal stewardship of the west. They must have split up the palace the same way. I wondered if it meant that the late Yoloxochitl kept her gardens somewhere to the east.

I put these thoughts aside for now. My guards had vanished a few turns ago, leaving me alone in the dark corridors.

I expected to receive a punishment of some kind. Ingrid had my guards slay one of Iztacoatl’s spies, after all. While my consort offered a way to plausibly deny our harmful intentions, the Nightlords were a cruel and fickle lot and Iztacoatl didn’t need an excuse to torment me.

“Welcome back, songbird.”

Her cold hands grabbed my shoulders with a bone-crushing grip. I hadn’t even noticed her approach. She could have easily slit my throat before I realized it.

For all of my success in the Underworld, I still had much to learn.

“Why are you so tense? Do you expect punishment?” Iztacoatl’s smirk had a dangerous edge to it. “You would be right.”

How unsurprising of her. “What have I done to displease a goddess?”

“Don’t you know?” Iztacoalt raised an eyebrow. “White snakes are divine animals created in my image, yet you had one killed yesterday.”

“Oh?” I feigned surprise. “It was yours?”

“Yet again you treat me like a fool.” Iztacoatl touched my chin with her thumb and forced me to meet her eyes. The mere sensation of her cold finger on my skin filled me with revulsion. “Do you take me for a fool, songbird?”

“No, goddess, I take you for a Nightlord.”

My response drew a cold laugh out of her. “Quite the ambiguous wording. You must think yourself clever, songbird.”

So do you. For all of Iztacoatl’s insight and cunning, I kept many secrets from her. You are not as unassailable as you believe yourself to be, White Snake.

I recalled my predecessors’ words. My best bet to deal with the White Snake was to surprise and baffle her. Should I continue pushing her with sarcasm? No. I had the feeling that while it would amuse the Nightlord, it wouldn’t truly confuse her. I suspected many of my predecessors already lashed out at her.

“Goddess, Ingrid only sought to protect me,” I said, probing the Nightlord’s reactions. “The fault rests on my shoulders alone.”

“I bear no ill will towards Ingrid. She is my favorite of the current crop.” Iztacoatl chuckled. “Besides, how could I punish her after you so callously tried to orphan her?”

Her brazen words left me briefly speechless with rage. The fact that she dared to blame me for Sigrun’s murder sickened–

Wait.

“Tried?” I asked, picking up on the weird wording.

Iztacoatl gave me the most condescending smile imaginable. “I thought you would know after we brought you back on your first day. Death means nothing to us. We can return our victims to life any time we choose.”

Iztacoatl scratched me behind the ear as if I were her dog. “In my great and immense generosity, I have decided to recall my dear Sigrun from the land of the dead.”

“Lies,” I replied. Vampires consumed the souls of their victims, and Sigrun had been devoured by the first and most powerful of them. “I do not believe you.”

“Are you accusing a goddess of deceit? How blasphemous for a godspeaker.” Iztacoatl let go of me. “Worry not, I shall prove my goodwill and generosity soon enough.”

A shiver traveled down my spine. My gut told me that whatever plot she had hatched, it would prove as horrendous as the Lords of Terrors’ trials.

“Besides…” Iztacoatl studied my gaze, looking for a weakness. “I find it strange that you doubt my word after we healed your stabbed heart. What makes you think we cannot revive anyone else, I wonder?”

I had said too much. “Sigrun burned in the sulfur flames,” I replied. “She didn’t even leave ashes.”

“True, but miracles are a goddess’ purview, are they not?” Iztacoatl took a step into the darkness and gestured at me to follow her. “Come with me, and I shall show you my divine power.”

Swallowing my doubts, I followed the Nightlord deeper inside her underground maze. The sight of her turned back proved a tempting target.

It would be so easy to hit her with the Blaze… I refrained from trying nonetheless. I required more practice with the spell, and I spent enough time training with Chikal to notice the slight tension in Iztacoatl’s posture. She does not lower her guard around me.

What would it take for her to distract her? I had a plan for Itzili that could catch her interest, but would it be enough?

A voice suddenly resonated at the hallway’s end and drew me out of my thoughts.

Her voice.

“My lord?”

It couldn’t be… I felt like awakening from a cold shower or a blow to the stomach. This is an illusion.

“What’s wrong, songbird?” Iztacoatl gently and firmly pushed me further ahead. “Your concubine awaits you.”

With no other choice and a lurching stomach, I walked to the hallway’s end.

Lady Sigrun awaited me inside a polygonal stone chamber.

She was sitting on a bed of stone, dressed in the exact same robes as the time of her death, backlit by three braseros held by marble statues of faceless women. She looked as smooth and lithe as the day I watched her burn to death, with none of the wounds that killed her on display. I shuddered in horror as she smiled at me with that familiar, enigmatic smile she bore so well. Her eyes glittered in the dark like two emeralds reflecting the twilight.

My fists tightened so much that I felt a drop of blood slipping between my fingers. The pain of my nails sinking in my palms paled before the rage boiling in my veins.

These bastards. They had gone so far as to recreate her expressions down to the last detail.

“What is wrong, my lord?” The fake Lady Sigrun’s voice matched the original perfectly, but I knew she was a counterfeit. The First Emperor never let go of his meals. “I expected a warmer welcome.”

I managed to unclench my teeth long enough to spit at this farce. “You bear her face, but you are not her,” I rasped angrily. I was too furious to shout. “Begone from my sight, fake.”

“Fake? You wound me, my lord.” The fake Sigrun’s hands moved down to the sash holding her smothering robes. “I bear the mark of our last coupling.”

She unfolded the sash with a soft rustling and let her clothes fall to the ground. She was naked underneath, and clearly pregnant.

A wave of nausea washed over me at the sight of her swollen breasts and bloated belly, of her bleeding thighs and the white maggots squirming between her legs. Her stomach was horribly enlarged, a mass of squirming flesh about to burst. Something was wriggling under her pale skin. I could see its movements.

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“Oh my…” The fake Sigrun stared at me with a twisted smile and glowing eyes. Her sweating hands held onto her belly. “They’re coming…”

Snakes burst out of her belly in a shower of blood.

Few things could frighten and sicken me anymore. This was one of them. I instinctively recoiled as the fake Sigrun’s stomach untangled into a fountain of flesh and gore that stained the floor red. A dozen serpents fell on the ground, wriggling in their mother’s blood.

They all had my face.

These snakes, they had my face. Twisted human traits morphing into coiling tails of bloodsoaked white scales, squirming and gasping for air with my mouth, looking at me with my eyes. They moaned and hissed with my voice, their stunted bodies unable to carry the weight of their deformed heads.

As for Sigrun, she swiftly collapsed into a pile of boneless, empty skin; a flesh suit out of which a swarm of red-eyed white serpents crawled out of.

I was too horrified by the sight to react at all. My eyes lingered on the deformed… things crawling out at me. They coiled and wriggled to the best of their ability, their blue eyes fixated on me as they suffocated. I stepped back before they could touch me. I instinctively put a hand on my mouth not to vomit.

And Iztacoatl…

The wench held her sides from laughter.

“Your Majesty,” she said, struggling to string two words together. “Is that a way to greet your newborn sons?”

What Iztacoatl lacked in callous brutality, she more than made up for in inventiveness.

I couldn’t move an inch. I could only stare at the… the abominations that the fake Sigrun gave birth to. Their deformed bodies couldn’t sustain life, so I watched them drown and suffocate to death in their mother’s blood. They kept staring back at me until their last breath. With unblinking eyes.

With my eyes.

“Such a shame, they are stillborn,” Iztacoatl said. “I’m sure Your Majesty’s seed will prove more potent with other partners. With luck, your new children will be born with legs.”

Her vicious, cruel taunt awoke me from my fear and horror. The owl inside me sharpened its talons. It took all of my willpower and composure not to cast the Blaze spell and incinerate her on the spot. Only the thought of failure—and the idea of her laugh growing louder—held my hand.

“My, what a delightful face you make. Unforgettable.” Iztacoatl leaned on me to better savor my expression. “Are you going to cry, songbird?”

If she did, she would feed on my tears. I could see it in her golden eyes.

I recalled that awful night when Yoloxochitl forced Eztli to consume her own father and threatened to condemn Necahual to a life of sexual slavery. The hatred that I had felt for that madwoman now matched the one I held in my heart for Iztacoatl. They were cut from the same cloth. Two awful shades of cruelty.

In spite of the anger dwelling within me, I suddenly achieved a state of utter calmness. I had flown beyond the wrath horizon and straight into the same cold, calculating malevolence I embraced in the House of Jaguars. All of my spirit, all of my mind, could only focus on one thing, on a small thing.

How to make her pay.

How to hurt her, beat her, rape her, kill her… anything that would make her suffer.

“I told you I would tame you,” Iztacoatl mocked me. “You will find no happiness except through me, Iztac. Anything else that brings you joy, I shall twist and corrupt.”

She knew Chikal and I were trying to conceive a child. She must have guessed easily. So she took that pleasure and befouled it with her vicious touch.

I clenched my teeth and focused. I did not waver, nor did I let her laugh unsettle me. To baffle her, to confuse her, to throw her off her game, I had to turn her cruel game back on her. Turn her triumph into a bewildering defeat.

An idea came to mind.

“What, have you lost your tongue?” Iztacoatl’s smug grin boiled my blood. “No biting remarks or clever words?”

“No,” I replied. “I don’t need words.”

Instead, I slapped her.

I sensed the difference in strength and stature between us when my hand connected with her. Iztacoatl was no frail woman. I had seen a glimpse of her monstrous, reptilian true self on Smoke Mountain. She was a primeval horror masquerading as the human she used to be.

My slap still sent her stumbling back a few feet. She held her left cheek with her hand, her eyes wide with outrage and disbelief. To my delight and unease both, she looked utterly shocked. Nobody must have dared to strike her in centuries.

A black drop drifted down her pale cheek.

I had hit her hard enough to draw blood.

The atmosphere in the stone chamber suddenly turned tense. The white serpents that had puppeteered the fake Sigrun’s skin gathered around me, hissing and snapping their jaws at me. Their mistress stood firm once more. She had regained her composure, but her eyes had turned into yellow, reptilian orbs glaring at me with malice

“Try that again,” she hissed, her voice about as ominous as the Lords of Terror’s. “If you dare.”

I slapped her on the other cheek.

My hand encountered resistance this time; instead of striking the soft flesh of the unwary, I might as well have tried to slap a stone pillar. Iztacoatl didn’t flinch this time. She didn’t move either. She didn’t need to.

Her serpents attacked me on her behalf.

They coiled around my legs and arms in an instant, binding me with greater force than any ropes. They were faster and stronger than any serpent had any right to be. They buried me under their scales in seconds and soon dragged me to the ground. I collapsed face-first into the fake Sigrun’s blood, surrounded by my dead ‘children.’

“Interesting.” Iztacoatl lovingly caressed her bloodied cheek, a wide smirk spreading on her cruel lips. “How amusing. In six centuries, none of you puppet emperors had the guts to slap me. This is a first.”

Iztacoatl touched the blood tear dripping down her skin with her finger, then sucked it. A forked tongue slithered out of her mouth. She was such a vain soul that she relished the taste of her own person.

Her serpents forced me to lay on my back. Their mistress sat on my chest with the weight of ancient stones. I struggled to breathe, much to her cruel delight.

“Perhaps I should teach you docility in my bedchambers,” she said, licking my cheek with her reptilian tongue for good measure. Its contact felt colder than the Rattling House’s ice. “I would keep your pretty face intact, but the rest… by the time I finish taking my pleasure with you, poor Nenetl won’t be able to touch you without caking her white hands with blood.”

I chuckled instead of backing down.

Iztacoatl’s amusement turned to anger. Her hand grabbed my throat with an iron grip. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

How hypocritical. She could take a joke, but only so long as she wasn’t the laughingstock.

A flick of her wrist would have snapped my neck. However, I had the feeling she wouldn’t resort to it.

I was starting to better gauge Iztacoatl’s character. I recalled how she hit me after the eruption, when her sense of power felt threatened. She wasn’t so different from the Jaguar Woman in the end. When pushed far enough, she used cruelty to regain control. She simply favored threats and mind games over violence.

Crushing my windpipe would simply prove that I had rattled her. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“You don’t see anything,” I replied softly.

“See what?” Iztacoatl tightened her grip on my throat, giving me just enough air to breathe. “Sing for me, songbird.”

I did. With a laugh.

A deep, sinister laughter that shook the stone chamber to its foundation. A pure expression of malicious glee and malevolence. I looked into Iztacoatl’s eyes and watched the unsettling dread taking over her gaze. When her grip on my neck wavered, I knew I had succeeded.

She hadn’t expected that, and it disturbed her.

“Answer me, pet,” she hissed before slapping me. Her hand carried the strength of ten men. She could have torn my head off my shoulders in a single blow, but her arm was trembling too much for it. I had shaken her spirit. “Answer me!”

I only laughed louder.

It was then that Iztacoatl finally understood. This was no laugh of madness, no, but the mocking laugh of someone who knew something the other didn’t. A demon delighting at the horrible fate they had foreseen for a foolish mortal unable to see their doom coming.

It was all an act, of course, but it worked.

Iztacoatl let go of my throat, her eyes wide with horror and confusion. She couldn’t tell whether I was bluffing in an attempt to unsettle her, or if I had genuinely foreseen a terrible fate for her. Perhaps I had received a vision from Father Dearest where he devoured her or worse.

Yoloxochitl’s vice had been love, but Iztacoatl’s was fear. She was the one keeping her guard up at all times, the one who advised against running the New Fire Ceremony at the first sign of trouble, the one whose paranoia let her see through my lies.

How ironic. The idea of being left in the dark frightened a Nightlord.

Sickened by my reaction and unsure how to react, Iztacoatl erred on the side of caution. She let go of my throat and rose up. Her serpents uncoiled and released their hold on me. I gathered my breath, having been wheezing since I started laughing.

“Get up, songbird,” Iztacoatl said, dusting off her robes. “I have toyed with you long enough. I will let you go for now.”

I had to give it to her. She almost sounded magnanimous. She was only lying to herself though.

We both knew I had won this round.

After the encounter underground, I was allowed back to the surface under Tayatzin’s supervision. I immediately went to visit my late predecessors to seek their advice and noticed a telling change.

Three snakes now spied on me in the Reliquary instead of one.

So much for staying beneath her notice, but Iztacoatl had forced my hand. Now that I had thrown down the gauntlet, I had to keep the pressure up. To slowly boil her to death.

Our game had begun.

I sensed the Parliament of Skulls awakening in secret. Their eyes remained shut in the darkness, but their whispers reached my ears nonetheless, unheard by the serpents.

“You play a dangerous game, our successor,” the previous emperors warned me. “To hold the snake by the tail is to invite its bite. She will strike you.”

I understood that well enough. Iztacoatl would try to reassert her authority over me, whether through pain or mind games. She had retreated to better assess her next move, but I knew she wouldn’t take her defeat lying down.

“However, we cannot deny that feigning madness often demands brave stunts,” my predecessors said. “We suggest a more subdued approach from now on. Keep Iztacoatl wondering if you are playing an act or if you have truly fallen prey to her father’s visions. Uncertainty is like the wind. He who blows it directs where a ship sails. Avoid consistency.”

Whenever Iztacoatl believed I had fallen under a routine, I would swiftly pull the rug out from under her. Otherwise, I would remain silent and pretend to meditate inside the Reliquary until she focused her interest elsewhere. I had a few ideas on how to achieve that objective.

Although Iztacoatl remained the greatest threat to my safety inside the palace, other matters demanded my attention too. I had only a few weeks left to destroy Yoloxochitl’s gardens before the Flower War began in earnest; after which the Nightlords would no doubt load their ships with their late sisters’ flowers. The fate of Lady Zyanya and my conspiracy in Zachilaa remained uncertain. I also needed to secure Ingrid’s help in translating her mother’s notes, visit places affected by the eruption, prepare myself for war, and deal with the consequences of the First Emperor’s influence.

Worst of all, I couldn’t speak questions out loud in the Reliquary, lest the serpents overhear me.

Thankfully, my predecessors did not need to hear my voice to read my thoughts. We shared the same burden, and they possessed great wisdom.

“The decimation of Yoloxochitl’s priesthood has left us with fewer leads when it comes to her garden,” they said. “But we may have figured out an alternative solution. During our lifetimes, we gathered extensive records of properties owned by the Flower of the Heart’s servants. We doubt she would entrust one of her projects to anyone outside her inner circle, and only a few of these facilities could house an underground garden. We will provide their names to you.”

Good. I could cross-reference this information with what intel Necahual had gathered, then inspect the chosen sites with the Riding spell. This should greatly narrow down the range of possible locations.

The Parliament of Skulls provided three major leads: a monastery in Cuauhtochco, the hospice of Cuetlaxtlan, and the orphanage of Tlatlauquitepec. I hoped Yoloxochitl would have had the decency not to hide a terribly dangerous weapon under the last location, but I was ready to expect anything.

All these locations were on the eastern side of the empire and relatively close to the capital. Once I had confirmed the garden’s location, I would then need to select the appropriate host for the Ride spell and deliver it the tools required to burn these loathsome flowers to ash. By now, I had the resources to acquire both. I had invested a great deal in Tlaxcala’s inheritance and would now put his allegiance to the test.

A plan quickly formed in my mind. I could use Lady Zyanya as an excuse to visit the western provinces devastated by the earthquakes and drum up support for my Flower War. Not only would leaving the palace let me act with less supervision, but it would also distract the Nightlords from Yoloxochitl’s dominions. Their attention would focus on propping up their godspeaker’s tour.

This left one major unknown factor to account for.

“There is another thing you must know, our successor,” the skulls whispered. “We, who stand on the Gate of Skulls’ threshold, see souls pass on to their peaceful afterlife. We often speak with the deceased. The First Emperor’s bat children have claimed many victims, whether in Yohuachanca or in the lands beyond.”

I feared as much. Reports had informed me that the bat swarms spread beyond our borders, biting children and pregnant mothers. The evil unleashed on Smoke Mountain would slay many innocents over the next few months.

I hoped this could force Yohuachanca’s enemies to take action. It was one thing to have soldiers threatening one’s borders, and another for monsters to eat their sons and daughters in the darkest nights.

“Not all the lives they take see their souls pass on to the Underworld,” my predecessors warned me. “The Nightlords attempted to secure their ritual by elevating your consort as Yoloxochitl’s replacement, but the dam is cracked and the river’s flow is disrupted. We sense the darkness stirring. Something shall happen tonight. We can feel it.”

My fists clenched in frustration. The more I considered it, the more it became clear to me that the Nightlords’ rituals used their lives and mine as linchpins to keep their Dark Father contained. Slaying them might unleash another calamity upon the world.

I refused to entertain any future outcome that involved sparing the likes of Iztacoatl or the Jaguar Woman. They were monsters who needed to die for the good of everyone else, and it was only a matter of time before they tried to raise another Sulfur Sun in the sky.

My predecessors sensed my disquiet and quickly reassured me. “Do not lose hope, our successor. If the First Emperor could be chained once, he can be restrained again. Moreover, we suspect that the current arrangement is meant to derive power from the First Emperor first and keep it contained second. There are other paths left to explore and time to tread them.”

Yes indeed. The fact that the Nightlords devised their infernal ritual with themselves as its pillar did not mean that their way was the only one. Why would they have bothered to find an alternative, since this one had worked for centuries? There could be other rituals capable of doing the same job, except without the benefits of leeching off their divine ancestor.

“Unfortunately, we cannot provide much assistance in this particular quest,” the Parliament replied with a low, sorrowful sigh. “You must learn the source of the vampiric curse. The First Emperor’s codices hold the key to uncovering that secret. Pursue them with haste.”

I gathered my breath and exhaled. I could do little more to signify agreement without tipping off the snakes.

“We must address one last matter, our successor.” The Parliament of Skulls let out a deep rattle. “We know another Ihiyotl spell that can help you. Other issues demanded your full attention beforehand, and we were not certain that you would have the experience or willingness to cast it, so we kept it from you. We believe that it has now become a viable option.”

Their words surprised me. I would never say no to another spell. The Augury alone had proved quite useful so far in spite of its harsh cost. Why would my predecessors sit on another?

“The Legion is a secret spell of our own devising,” they said. “It shall share our curse with another soul, trapping them inside our gestalt spirit.”

It took all of my willpower not to freeze in horror at the implications.

“We understand your concerns, hence why we did not mention it before,” my predecessors confirmed. “Since we stand on the threshold between life and death, we have the ability to intercept souls crossing it with your help. Their skull will become an extension of ourselves; allowing us to speak through them and access their knowledge.”

The benefits appeared obvious to me, but they failed to compensate for its horrible downsides. The sickening thought of sharing my curse with others, even enemies, was the least of its consequences.

“We doubted you would have the resolve to cast it beforehand, and it would have angered Queen Mictecacihuatl. We dared not mention it while you lingered in her domain.”

I doubted she would look kindly on me on the Day of the Dead should I ever cast this spell either. Even if I successfully destroyed the Nightlords, I was bound to end up in the afterlife anyway. Making an enemy of its rulers would be deeply unwise.

The spell was something Mother would cast; an obsidian dagger without a handle.

Over six hundred mouths rattled as one. The dead emperors didn’t like this weapon anymore than I did. “Considering the trials ahead, we believe you should at least learn of this option.”

My jaw clenched on its own. They had a point. With luck, I would never have to cast this spell at all.

If not… if not, a dagger without a handle remained a dagger.

“To cast the Legion, you must inflict the same humiliation that we went through on another,” said my predecessors. “Sever a fresh head, then whisper their true name to the skull. The target must have died within an hour’s time of the ritual, lest its soul pass on beyond the Gate of Skulls and thus our reach.”

This spell wasn’t something I could cast discreetly. The timing meant that I would not only have to kill the target, but also defile the corpse. No way this wouldn’t raise suspicion. I would have either to plan the perfect assassination or find myself with my back against the wall to use this gruesome ritual.

“Now go, before the snakes question why you linger in this place.” The Parliament’s hundred voices slowly faded into silence. “We shall meet again.”

I would have bowed were I unobserved. Instead, I settled on rising to my feet and leaving in respectful silence. Dutiful Tayatzin awaited me outside the Reliquary.

“I hope Your Majesty’s meditation granted him the gift of insight,” he said politely.

“It has.” In more ways than one. “Have we received news of the Qollqa investigation yet?”

“We have, Your Majesty. I am afraid to report that the late merchant indeed appears to have been a loathsome traitor in the Sapa’s employ, as we feared. We have found a secret correspondence meant for the Apu Inkarri.”

“The same name that Tlazohtzin brought up,” I said, pretending to connect the dots I had created myself. “Very well. Summon Lady Zyanya for breakfast, and bring me Itzili too.”

“Your feathered tyrant?” Tayatzin frowned. “Do you wish to keep him close during breakfast in order to intimidate Lady Zyanya, Your Majesty?”

“Partly,” I replied, looking at the horizon ahead. “I will require his advice too.”

Tayatzin looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “His advice?”

I smiled and stared at the horizon. “He defended me in a dream,” I lied. “So shall he do so again in the waking world.”

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