Chapter Fourteen: Shadow on the Wall

Chapter Fourteen: Shadow on the Wall

I began the bloodiest day of my tenure yet by practicing the Augury spell on the roof of the palace.

It was quite easy to disguise as morning prayer, though I required the use of the Veil spell to disguise the flames rising from my blood when I offered it to the wind. Lady Sigrun gave me information to spare: morsels on which guard fucked which and what servant stole what from the kitchen. These tales wouldn’t help me much in my quest, but the Yaotzin accepted them as payment nonetheless.

“Hide these codices, Centehua,” the wind whispered in an old man’s voice. “Hide them from the priests where they will never be found. Therein lies the true history.”

“I shall, Father,” a woman’s echo answered, far, far away. “I shall bury them beneath the bricks of the western temple, right under their own feet. Their lies will cover the truth.”

As a test of my mysterious ‘sources,’ Lady Sigrun had asked that I find what happened to stolen codices written by a certain scribe called Mazatl. The Yaotzin’s whispers let me piece out the truth. Mazatl, who worked on behalf of priests to write—or rather, rewrite—history codices according to the imperial orthodoxy, kept private books detailing imperial history which the empire sought to suppress. He gave them away to his daughter Centehua, who then proceeded to hide them right under the priests’ noses.

I had no idea what Lady Sigrun sought to use such information for. Did she intend to recover the books for herself? Use them as leverage? Or to blackmail Mazatl and his family?

“Your sacrifice has earned you one more question,” the wind whispered into my ear. “Speak wisely.”

I was tempted to ask for Lady Sigrun’s motives for seeking the codices, if only to figure out her plans, but I quickly realized I needed something stronger. While I sought to make her an ally, she remained motivated by self-interest. I needed insurance.

“What secret would give me power over Lady Sigrun?” I muttered under my breath. “What information would prevent any betrayal?”

The morning breeze blew on my face. “Fjor never joined the army.”

Fjor? I remembered the name as Lady Sigrun’s son, who had left her household upon reaching adulthood. “Has she lied to me about him?” I asked, utterly puzzled. “Why? Where did her son go?”

“The ugliest truth fetches a high price,” the wind answered.

Curses. Pay with morsels, buy scraps. Much like any cunning merchant, the Yaotzin only tempted me to better shake me down later.

Whatever the case, if discovering the true fate of Sigrun’s son would ensure her loyalty to me, then it warranted an investigation. I would have to be careful though. If she learned of my investigation, she might very well react with a preemptive strike. She did lie to my face after all.

I cannot trust anyone within these walls, I thought after finishing my ‘morning prayers.’ Not without leverage.

As promised, I invited Lady Sigrun to breakfast and gave her a queen’s place at my table: she took the spot on my left and Ingrid the one on my right. The other consorts had to face me on the other side of the table, a subtle message that I was certain the servants noticed. By evening, the entire palace would know that Lady Sigrun and her daughter were now in the emperor’s good graces.

My other consorts’ reactions told me much about their political skills. Chikal’s eyes darted from Sigrun to me, so she clearly understood we had formed an alliance of some sort. Nenetl appeared utterly oblivious to the situation and greeted the older concubine with gentle courtesy.

As for Eztli, she simply smirked in amusement. “I did not know you appreciated mature women, Iztac. We should rob a retirement home for some variety.”

“Our Lord Emperor prefers wisdom and sound advice over the young’s foolishness,” Lady Sigrun replied, her courtesy hiding the subtle insult.

Eztli chuckled lightly, although her crimson eyes did not smile when her lips did. “He has a woman for the mind, and another for the heart.”

“I wonder who will get the liver,” Ingrid quipped.

Nenetl forced herself to smile, but even she had sensed the tension in the room. I didn’t pay much attention; someone’s absence at the table bothered me.

“Where is Tlacaelel?” I asked one of the servants, one of the four half-naked women working on delivering us food and drinks. Necahual was among them, pouring a red drink into her daughter’s cup. “Is he coming late today?”

Not that I wanted to see him, but I worried his absence might spell trouble down the line.

“I am afraid not, Your Divine Majesty,” the servant said. Oh, that was a new title. “Poor Tlacaelel perished this morning.”

“Too ba–” I didn’t finish my sentence, as my mouth caught on to what my ears had heard. My head snapped in my servant’s direction. “What?”

“Loyal Tlacaelel fell from the stairs on his way to this very meeting and broke his neck,” the servant said with a sad sigh. Necahual, who was nearby, froze upon hearing these words. “By the time healers arrived, he was already dead.”

“He must have been too hasty to serve his emperor,” Lady Sigrun managed to say with a sorry expression. “Why is it always the good ones who die so early?”

I stared at her, utterly astonished by that woman’s sheer nerve. The slight inflection of her brows, the way she blinked as if struggling to hold back tears, the subtle way her cheeks and lips strained to show just enough emotion to imply real sadness, but not enough to give herself away... if I didn’t know any better, Lady Sigrun might have persuaded me that she sincerely regretted Tlacaelel’s passing. If I ever succeeded in overthrowing the Nightlords, she should become an actress next. She had an incredible talent for it.

I... so fast? I thought, trying to recover from the shock. I knew I had ordered Tlacaelel killed, but I expected Lady Sigrun to poison him over the week, not murder him within a day’s time. This woman does not waste time.

Wait, what about the poison? If Tlacaelel died from a broken neck, what happened to Necahual’s drug?

“That makes me think, I did leave your room in haste yesterday,” I said, staring at Lady Sigrun with a hand around my chocolate cup. “I hope I did not forget anything.”

“Oh, Lord Emperor, you need not worry,” Lady Sigrun replied, holding my gaze and giving nothing away. “I cleaned up everything myself.”

The cunning weasel, she kept the poison as insurance so I wouldn’t betray her!

Still, I couldn’t help but admire Lady Sigrun’s efficiency. I gave an order to have someone murdered, and not only was that target dead by sunrise, but she managed to obtain blackmail material to protect herself if I ever tried to throw her under a carriage. If I could earn her trust and loyalty, she would make for a powerful ally.

It only solidified my choice to investigate her son. If she wasn’t afraid to keep dirt on me, I should return the favor.

“That’s awful,” Nenetl whispered. Unlike Sigrun, she appeared genuinely shocked. “Did... did he suffer?”

The servant winced. “From what I was told, my lady... he was in agony for a full minute.”

Good, I thought, my mouth hurting from the sheer effort it took me to suppress a smile. I must learn how to hide my glee. It might give me away one day.

“Good,” Eztli said, not bothering with subtlety. As for Necahual, she didn’t hide her joy at all. Her cruel smile beamed with happiness and the satisfaction of an appeased grudge.

“I would like to visit his corpse,” I said. Oh my, how did I struggle to hide my joy! After my terrifying encounter with Yoloxochitl, this news filled me with immense happiness. “To pay my last respects.”

“Of course, oh divine Godspeaker,” the servant answered with a bow. “We shall have the body prepared in time for your visit.”

“I shall do it right after breakfast,” I decided. Watching Tlacaelel’s remains would energize me for the day.Geett the latest novels at novelhall.com

“The Nightlords will surely select a new advisor by tomorrow,” Chikal noted. If she had guessed what happened, she didn’t show any hint of it. “Until then, it is up to us to guide our Lord Emperor.”

“On that front, have you completed plans for our summer campaigns?” I asked Chikal. “I wish to decide which enemy we shall target with haste.”

“Of course, Lord Emperor.” Chikal clapped her hands, and servants fetched us maps and documents. “I have also taken the initiative of gathering reports on your army’s current state.”

“Excellent,” I replied. The more I knew of Yohuachanca’s armies, the better I could sabotage them.

We spent breakfast listening to Chikal’s reports. The council session proved much more bearable without Tlacaelel’s false flatteries and attempts to deter me from attacking the Sapa Empire. As befitting of her experience as a military leader, Chikal’s explanations were concise, straight to the point, and no less enlightening.

As befitting an empire that had been at war since its foundation, Yohuachanca’s army was as refined as its tribute system. The core unit of my troops was an eight-thousand man strong platoon called the xiquipilli, themselves divided between groups of four hundred and warbands of twenty soldiers. Each of them had at least one assigned porter to carry equipment, and who could be deployed as fresh troops. A tenth of those soldiers belonged to elite military orders such as the Nightflowers, who escorted the emperor and his generals into battle; holy fraternities dedicated to individual Nightlords, such as the Jaguar Warriors and Eagle Knights; and the infamous Shorn Ones, the most revered warriors in Yohuachanca’s society, who each had captured at least ten sacrifices and accomplished six heroic deeds. The empire’s cavalry, mostly trihorn riders, and armored longnecks, made up one-twentieth of the imperial troops.

Yohuachanca’s ever-growing population, and the fact each man received military training, allowed the empire to field vast armies. Chilam and Balam were crushed by a human tide of four hundred thousand soldiers, and a previous emperor who ruled twenty years before me set the south on fire at the helm of seven hundred-thousand men.

And that was just the land army. The empire recently started developing a navy, both to enslave the people of the Boiling Sea in the east and launch raids in the west. Add in the support staff, and Yohuachanca’s military probably exceeded a million members. I couldn’t wrap my head around that mind-blowing number.

“In the last century, the empire has struggled less with raising armies and more with feeding them,” Chikal explained. “Since porters have their limits, tributaries are now required to manage food stores to supply troops deployed to the frontier.”

Once again, the tributary system proved itself as the empire’s lifeblood. I needed to dry it out if I wanted to break Yohuachanca’s backbone.

When Ingrid leaned against me halfway through the lecture, I let her do so and put a hand around her waist. I didn’t miss the way she glanced at the guards and servants to check if they saw everything. I admit it bothered me. I felt like a girl’s doll being prettied up to impress strangers.

It was a small price to pay to secure her family’s assistance in my fights to come, but a part of me still found it loathsome. It took me a minute to figure out why.

They’re not even trying to fight back, I thought, my eyes wandering from Ingrid to her mother. The mother will stay a slave until she dies, the eldest daughter will be sacrificed on the altar, and the youngest will probably follow in a decade or so. Yet they would rather play the Nightlords’ game than try to flip the table.

For all their talents, Lady Sigrun and Ingrid had surrendered. They could have tried to evacuate Ingrid, to escape the palace with her sister Astrid, and rebuild their lives somewhere else. Anything would have been better than toiling in this prison.

My face must have given something away, for Ingrid stared at me with a strange look. Though it didn’t last more than a second, I could have sworn I detected a hint of shame and anger in her gaze. She quickly corrected her expression when her mother sent her a sideways glance.

Interesting. Could Ingrid resent her mother’s plan for her? The Yaotzin did warn me that she would bite rather than starve. If she had truly inherited Lady Sigrun’s ambition, then she probably aspired to more than being a sacrifice on the altar.

“Attacking the Three-Rivers Federation would be a straightforward march north,” Chikal explained. “Our main issue will be overextension and maintaining supply lines, since the north’s lands are poor. A large army won’t be able to live off the land, especially if the northerners scorch the earth on our way–”

My eyes wandered to the rest of the audience. Lady Sigrun and Nenetl both listened; the former with keen focus, the latter with apprehension. My fellow Nahualli had been trained to administer the empire, not lead it in a war, and the subject clearly made her uncomfortable. As for Eztli, she didn’t even bother to seem interested in the report. Instead, she played with cacao beans, setting them up in patterns on her plate.

It is time, I thought. With everyone either listening to Chikal’s lecture or distracted, I could use both the Gaze and Veil spells at once without too many skeptics focusing on my illusion. Let us see what secrets you all hide from me.

Purple sunlight poured out of my eyes, wreathed under a cloak of illusion. I immediately sensed the weight of multiple people’s attention falling on my Veil spell. The gaze of servants; the sideways glances Lady Sigrun, Ingrid, and Eztli often sent me; and an invisible presence coming from the wall to my left. A spy observed me from behind a secret passage.

Neat. I hadn’t realized that since the Veil struggled against the weight of others’ observation I could use it to detect hidden spies. Perhaps I should try to keep the spell up constantly to protect myself.

That was partly why I was so intent on fighting the Sapa Empire. A land of mountains all but required aerial troops for a successful conquest. Nightkin would make the best shock troops on the war’s frontline, right in the line of fire of the Sapa Empire’s archers. Whereas fighting the Three-Rivers Federation would give the vampires an excuse to stay hidden. After all, their mortal army wouldn’t need them to conquer the north.

Chikal scowled, her gaze set upon me. “Would they lend us their strength?”

She didn’t wish to ask the real question: would the Nightlords support me in this ambitious scheme?

I ruled as an emperor among men, but the Nightkin owed allegiance to their four queens. That was why Chikal did not include them in the army’s composition, although they participated in Yohuachanca’s campaigns: because they did not answer to me.

Here lies my problem. I had to convince the Nightlords to authorize an invasion of the only nation who could possibly fight back against them, and which will require them to send their brood to the slaughter. As the Parliament warned me, they would deny me unless I forced their hand.

And I had a plan to do just that.

“I will petition the goddesses for their favor in this endeavor,” I said diplomatically. “My instincts tell me the stars align in our favor.”

A part of me still felt a little remorse at the idea of starting a war against a foreign nation. Whenever guilt threatened to come rising to the surface, I pictured to myself Yoloxochitl tending to her garden of flesh in her true, terrible shape. No matter how many people I slew, it would still be a drop in the ocean of blood her kind left in her wake.

I would not hesitate any longer.

“My Lord is wise to believe so,” Ingrid said with a satisfied smile, while Lady Sigrun settled on a firm nod. “The Sapa Empire is showing weakness. Only a true emperor like Your Majesty may exploit it successfully.”

She says out loud what her mother whispers into her ear, I thought. I supposed a concubine couldn’t give advice unless invited to do so. That privilege went to the emperor’s consorts. I’m starting to pick up on these things.

In the end, it was all a game of make-believe.

“I will require your assistance in this, Ingrid,” I said, pulling her closer. All for show. “As my consort in charge of diplomacy, I must rely on you to find the cracks in our enemies’ armor.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Ingrid smiled and dared to kiss me lightly on the lips in return. The gesture was quick, calculated, all for the gallery. But if she and her mother helped me get my war, I was more than willing to return it. “You can trust me.”

My only worry was Eztli’s reaction. To my surprise, she didn’t appear to care at all. While Nenetl blushed in embarrassment as usual and Chikal observed the scene with a cynical look, my oldest companion couldn’t seem to care less. Even Necahual appeared more bothered than her daughter, though I wondered why.

I would have the occasion to discuss it with her in private. With breakfast over, the next item on my imperial agenda was public audiences. Yohuachanca’s emperor acted as the final judge and jury on important legal cases, received petitions, and spoke on the Nightlords’ behalf when it came to matters of religion. As Yoloxochitl’s pick, Eztli would assist me in these tasks. A task she seemed to relish.

“Ready to quarter fools and cut off empty heads, Iztac?” she asked me with amusement. “I daresay we can start reaping the tribute today.”

Eztli didn’t sound serious, but I couldn’t really tell what she thought anymore. I hoped she was only playing a part like I did. Desperately so. “Later,” I replied. “First I wish to pay my respects to Tlacaelel.”

Perhaps I should piss on his corpse? He had always loved sucking up to those stronger than him. No, that would be too crass and paint a target on my back. I could settle on silently relishing his death without giving anything away. Considering the ordeals ahead, I better practice hiding my emotions in public.

“Oh, me too.” Eztli chuckled and turned to face her mother, who was still waiting for orders in a corner. “You won’t mind taking her with us?”

Her, I noticed. Not ‘Mother.’

So did Necahual. Her crestfallen expression spoke volumes about her anguish. In this case, we both knew Eztli was faking it. She was playing the role of Yoloxochitl’s perfect daughter, who had mostly discarded her mortal mother for an immortal one. Necahual had to understand that it was for her own protection, since that particular Nightlord was a vicious, jealous creature.

But it still wounded her heart.

Lady Sigrun, who had observed the situation, immediately exploited it. “Lady Necahual, is it?” she asked her fellow concubine with a pleasant smile. “Would you kindly join me for the midday meal? After completing your morning tasks, of course.”

Necahual frowned in surprise. “A meal?”

“As fellow concubines and mothers of consorts, are we not in-laws?” Sigrun gently held Necahual’s hands into her own. “I understand how lonely life in this palace can feel. I felt the same when I first arrived. It took me time to find friends.”

It was a blatant attempt at sizing up Necahual—either as a threat or a potential ally. To her credit, my mother-in-law realized it as well. A brief scowl of anger flashed on her face, before being swiftly replaced with a mask of courtesy.

“I would appreciate it,” Necahual said without truly meaning it.

“Excellent.” Lady Sigrun then offered me a bow. “Will you join us, Emperor Iztac?”

“But of course,” I replied with courtesy. “I will have to decline any offer of dinner, however. I have already promised my dear Nenetl.”

Nenetl looked down. “Sorry.”

“Do not be, Lady Nenetl,” Lady Sigrun replied kindly, though I couldn’t tell if she was sincere. “I prefer quality to quantity when it comes to enjoying one’s time.”

“I do find your conversation pleasant,” I said. And it would be all the more interesting once we exchanged information. “Until then, enjoy your morning.”

So ended the council session. My schedule for the day was clear: after completing the justice audiences and reviewing public projects—namely, Yoloxochitl’s statue—in the morning and a midday meal, I would spend the evening ‘alone’ with Nenetl. I expected spies to observe us from the secret passages.

In fact, I was counting on them. I required witnesses. Influencing multiple people with the Veil spell might prove difficult, but the spectacle I had in mind shouldn’t feel too far-fetched. Everyone already expected the Sapa Empire’s gifts to be poisoned.

I left the council room with Eztli, her mother, and a score of guards in tow. The dead’s remains were stored in the dungeons in the palace’s basement. Our group descended through spiraling stairs into underground chambers, a bit too close to the Abode of Darkness for my comfort. I half-expected Yoloxochitl to jump out of the shadows to greet me.

“How was little Goldenhair in bed?” Eztli asked without warning. She laughed out loud when she saw me blush. “Come on, Iztac, don’t be shy. I want to hear it.”

She was teasing me, but her nonchalance still bothered me. I couldn’t explain why. I should feel relieved. I didn’t need jealousy or in-fighting among people I hoped to make my allies. “Technically talented, but passionless,” I confessed. “We’re just using each other.”

Eztli’s small smile betrayed her satisfaction. “As I thought.”

I squinted at her, holding back a scoff of amusement. “It’s not a competition.”

“Why would it be?” Eztli leaned in closer to me and whispered into my ear, too low for others to listen. “They’re all tools, are they not?”

It might have been true, in a way—my relationship with Ingrid was an alliance of convenience forced onto us by the Nightlords—but the cold, ruthless tone Eztli used was so unlike her that it sent shivers down my spine. My eyes wandered to her chest, at the spot where I saw a black void not so long ago.

Eztli’s hand brushed against my stomach and moved down, very close to... intimate parts. “I already share this with chamber pots, so why not with dolls? Make use of it as you wish. That’s what the old bats want from you: a shiny prince more preoccupied with bedding pretty girls and doing their bidding than fighting back.”

My jaw tightened. “I don’t want to act that way.”

“But you will have to if you want to win the game. Yoloxochitl is already enamored with you, but she is gullible. It will take more work to convince the others that you are no threat at all.” Eztli’s cold fingers moved up my chest, all the way to my heart. “This is the only part of you I won’t share.”

A pity four vampires already bound it to their altar. Still, the passion in her voice warmed my heart, for she sounded sincere. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes, of course.” Her eyes wandered to Necahual, who followed us like our shadow. “We do what we must to survive, and then we will start over.”

Start over, I thought. I had no idea what I would do if we ever succeeded in toppling the Nightlords. That mountain was so high I couldn’t see anything beyond it. If I find a cure in the Underworld... perhaps I could return Eztli’s heart to her.

That was my sincerest wish, but so much remained to be done.

“Ingrid had a brother called Fjor,” I whispered into Eztli’s ear. “I would like to know what happened to him. The priests must keep records of what happens to the emperor’s children.”

“Of course they do. They keep records of everybody’s lineage.” Eztli nodded sharply. “I will share what I find.”

“Thank you. Since Sigrun has spies everywhere in this palace, I can trust no one else.”

“You can trust Mother too.” Eztli looked over her shoulder. “She is better disposed toward you than before. I can tell.”

“I guess we formed a truce.” The poison plan was a bust, but as the Parliament said I best practice assassination on small fry before targeting truly dangerous enemies.

We finally made our way to our destination: an underground crypt with a vaulted obsidian ceiling and alcoves holding corpses. Since the palace employed thousands of servants, some with dangerous jobs—feeding beasts at the menagerie often resulted in mauling or worse—the red-eyed priests stored their remains in this place until they could be given a proper burial.

Tlacaelel had been set on a bed of stone for our eyes only. The priests had done their best to make him presentable, but the corpse was too fresh to hide most wounds. His brown skin had turned pallid and his neck was puffy from damage. His spine was bent in a way that should be anatomically impossible, and from the way his skull was caved inward he must have hit a stonestep in his fall. His eyes were closed, though his expression was far from peaceful. The hypocritical smile he had shown me so many times, and the cruel grin he proudly wore when Guatemoc perished, were nowhere to be seen.

I had to admit it. Seeing Tlacaelel’s corpse filled me with immense satisfaction.

I stared at his face, poking it to confirm he was indeed dead. To my delight, he was indeed stiff and cold.

He’s dead, I thought, struggling with all my heart not to smirk. Eztli already did it for the two of us. As for Necahual, she spat at his remains. A few guards appeared outraged at the gesture, but I stopped them with a raised hand. I feel at peace.

I had ordered an enemy to be murdered and it happened so swiftly... Was that the essence of power? To decide who lived and who died? No wonder it went to the heads of so many people. It felt delightful.

My only regret was not killing Tlacaelel myself. I guessed I would catch up to him in the Underworld. He would find no rest in this world or the next.

I knew his death wouldn’t change much. The Nightlords would swiftly replace him with someone else. Still, it gave me hope for the future. When it came to cleaning out the trash, no piece of crap was too small to dispose of.

Tlacaelel was the least and first of my enemies to die, but he would not be the last.