Aztec Autumn - Jennings Gary (версия книг .txt) 📗

"Banishing them?"

"Far, far away. To Mictlan, I trust."

"Oh. I understand."

"All of them, anyway, except the woman G'nda Ke, who was warder of your prison cell."

"I know not what to make of that one," said Ameyatl, sounding perplexed. "I can hardly hate her. She had to obey Yeyac's orders, but sometimes she would contrive to bring me bits of food more tasty than atoli, or a perfumed cloth with which I could wash myself a little. But something... her name..."

"Yes. You and I are probably the only two who would even dimly recognize that name, now that my great-grandfather is dead. It was he, Canautli, who told us about the long-ago Yaki woman. Do you recall? We were children then."

"Yes!" said Ameyatl. "The evil woman who sundered the Azteca—and led half of them away to become the all-conquering Mexica! But, Tenamaxtli, that was back at the beginning of time. This cannot be the same G'nda Ke!"

"If not," I growled, "she has certainly inherited all the base instincts and motives of her namesake ancestress."

"I wonder," said Ameyatl, "did Yeyac realize this? He heard Canautli's account at the same time we did."

"We will never know. And I have not yet inquired whether Canautli has been succeeded by another Rememberer of History—or whether Canautli passed on that story to his successor. I am inclined to think not. Surely that new Rememberer would have incited the people of Aztlan to rise up in outrage, once the woman joined Yeyac's court. Especially when she inveigled Yeyac into offering his friendship to the Spaniards."

"Yeyac did that?" gasped Ameyatl, appalled. "But... then... why are you sparing the woman?"

"I have need of her. I will tell you why, but it is a long story. And—ah!—here is Pakapeti, my faithful companion on the long way hither, and now your handmaiden."

Tiptoe had arrived with a platter of light viands—fruits and such—for Ameyatl's breaking of her fast. The two young women greeted one another amiably, but then Tiptoe, realizing that my cousin and I were in serious converse, left us to it.

"Tiptoe is more than your personal servant," I said. "She is chamberlain of this whole palace. She is also the cook, the laundress, the housekeeper, everything. She and you and I and the Yaki woman are the only persons still resident here. All the domestics who served under Yeyac have joined him in Mictlan. G'nda Ke is at present seeking replacements."

"You were about to tell me why G'nda Ke still lives, when so many others do not."

So, while Ameyatl dined, with good appetite and obvious pleasure, I recounted all—or most—of my doings and adventurings since our parting. I touched only lightly on some of the occurrences. For instance, I did not describe in all its gruesome detail the burning of the man who I later learned had been my father—and whose death had impelled me to do so many of the things I did afterward. Also I condensed the telling of my education in the Spanish language and the Christian superstitions and my learning how to make a working thunder-stick. Also I did not dwell on my brief carnal connection with the mulata girl Rebeca, or the deep devotion that the late Citlali and I had shared, or the various Purempe women (and one boy) I had sampled before I met Pakapeti, and I made it clear that she and I had for quite a long time now been no more than fellow travelers.

But I did tell Ameyatl, in painstaking detail, the plans—and the so-far few preparations—I had made for leading an insurrection against the white men that would drive them utterly out of The One World. When I had done, she said pensively:

"You were ever valiant and ambitious, cousin. But this sounds like a vainglorious dream. The entire mighty Mexica nation collapsed at the onslaught of the Caxtilteca—or the Spaniards, as you call them. Yet you believe that you alone—"

"Your own august father Mixtzin said that very thing, among the last words he ever spoke to me. But I am not alone. Not every nation succumbed as did the Mexica. Or as Yeyac would have had Aztlan do. The Purempecha fought so nearly to the last man that the land of Michihuacan is now almost entirely populated by women. And even they will fight. Pakapeti rallied a goodly troop of them before she and I left there. And the Spaniards have not yet dared engage the fierce nations of the north. All that is required is someone to lead those disparate diehard peoples in a concerted effort. I know of no one else vainglorious enough to do that. So—if not I—who?"

"Well..." said Ameyatl. "If sheer determination counts for anything in such an enterprise... But you still have not explained why the alien G'nda Ke has any part in this."

"I want her to help me recruit those nations and tribes as yet unconquered but not yet organized into a cohesive force. That long-ago Yaki woman undeniably did inspire a ragtag rabble of outcast Azteca to a belligerence that led, in time, to the most splendid civilization in The One World. If she could do that, so, I think, might her many-times-great-granddaughter—or whoever our G'nda Ke is. I will be satisfied if she can recruit for me only her own native Yaki nation. They are said to be the most savage fighters of all."

"As you deem best, cousin. You are the Uey-Tecutli."

"I meant to speak of that, too. I assumed the mantle only because you, being a female, cannot. But I have not yet Yeyac's itch for title and authority and sublimity. I shall reign only until you are well enough to resume your position as regent. Then I will be on my way, resuming my campaign of recruitment."

She said, shyly for her, "We could reign together, you know. You as Uey-Tecutli and I as your Cecihuatl."

I asked teasingly, "You have so short a memory of your marriage to the late Kauritzin?"

"Ayyo, he was a good husband to me, considering that ours was a marriage arranged for others' convenience. But we were never so close as you and I once were, Tenamaxtli. Kauri was—how do I put it?—shy of experimentation."

"I do admit," I said, smiling in recollection, "I have never yet known a woman who could outdo you in that respect."

"And there is no traditional or priestly stricture against marriage between cousins. Of course, you may regard a widow woman as used goods, hand-me-down, not worthy of you." She added, roguishly, "But at least, on our wedding night, I would not have to deceive you with a pigeon egg and an astringent ointment."

Astringent, almost acid, came another voice, that of G'nda Ke: "How touching—the long-parted lovers reminiscing of the 'oc ye nechca,' the once-upon-a-time."

"You viper," I said through clenched teeth. "How long have you been lurking in this room?"

She ignored me and spoke to Ameyatl, whose prison-pale face had blushed very pink. "Why should Tenamaxtli marry anyone, my dear? He is master here, the one man among three delectable women whom he can bed at random and without commitment. A onetime mistress, a current mistress and a mistress yet untasted."

"Fork-tongued woman," I said, seething, "you are inconstant even in your malignant taunts. Last night you called me a cuilontli."

"And G'nda Ke is so glad to learn she was mistaken. Though she cannot really be sure, can she, until you and she—?"

"Never in my life have I struck a woman," I said. "I am now about to do exactly that."

She prudently stepped back from me, her lizard smile both apologetic and insolent. "Forgive this one, my lord, my lady. G'nda Ke would not have intruded had she realized... Well, she came only to tell you, Tenamaxtzin, that a group of prospective new servants awaits your approval in the downstairs hall. Some of those say they, too, knew you in the oc ye nechca. More important, the members of your Speaking Council await you in the throne room."