Blood & Fur

Chapter Eighty-Five: Valley of the Crimson Flowers

It was said that wise warriors never went to a battle unprepared.

Following that advice proved difficult when I had more than one war to plan for. Awakening before dawn—partly because of my newfound lifeforce and partly out of frustration over my lack of progress in the Underworld—had proved to be a blessing in disguise on that front. I’d spent the last hours before sunrise researching every last tidbit of Quetzalcoatl’s lore I could find among Chilam’s documents. Ingrid joined me early on in this task, for which I was thankful.

I nonetheless struggled with a sense of rising frustration. It wasn’t that information on Quetzalcoatl was scarce. Quite the contrary; as one of the most beloved deities in the land, tales about him abounded.

The issue was that these accounts were contradictory. One text identified Quetzalcoatl as the son of the gods Mixcoatl and Chimalma, a fact which I’d learned from the mouth of true deities to be a lie; yet the rest of that specific codex somewhat accurately recounted the Feathered Serpent’s descent into Mictlan and the capture of Xolotl.

Another particularly haunting tale detailed how the god was tricked by Tezcatlipoca into sleeping with their own sister under the influence of pulque; an act that shamed Quetzalcoatl to the point he immolated himself into becoming the Second Sun.

That story left me sickened enough to set the text aside. It simply hit too close to home.

Come to think of it, so many tales about Quetzalcoatl echoed incidents of my own life. I too descended into the Underworld to meet with Xolotl and King Mictlantecuhtli; I laid with my own blood because a cruel trickster would find it funny; and both our hearts burned with sunlight.

Was I walking in the Feather Serpent’s footsteps the same way I followed the First Emperor’s path?

“That is the issue with popular deities, my lord,” Ingrid said upon noticing my frustration. “Everyone projects what they want to see onto them. Truer accounts demand more digging.”n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“I suppose so,” I replied. “But I cannot shake the feeling that our victory will depend on the wind god’s protection and understanding.”

Flower Wars, as per their ritualistic nature, were always held on sacred grounds or specific locations. By chance or fate, the site we would use ours for it was dedicated to Kukulcan, a local serpent deity which the red-eyed priests associated with Quetzalcoatl and the Sapa people with Amaru, the winged snake after which they’d named the nearby mountains. It provided me with a good excuse for researching lore associated with them.

Ingrid nodded sharply, then glanced in the direction of Chindi’s room. My other consorts were still asleep for now.

“Would my lord forgive a request on my part?” Ingrid whispered in my ear.

“A request?” The fact that she saw the need to whisper rather than say it out loud aroused my curiosity. “There is nothing to forgive, Ingrid. I will indulge any wish of yours.”

“My lord is kind.” Ingrid joined her hands, her fair expression morphing into one of concern. “My handmaiden asked if she could leave my service and switch places with Atziri.”

“Tenoch?” That took me aback. “I thought the two of you got along wonderfully.”

“We do. I consider Tenoch a friend, and she sounded clearly distressed when she asked for this transfer.” Ingrid met my gaze. “I strongly suspect she wishes to protect Atziri from her current mistress. The glances that Anaye sends her way disturb her.”

I couldn’t blame her for it. ‘Anaye’—or rather, Chindi—was a beast in human skin whose murderous instincts were only kept in check by fear of punishment and my knowledge of her true name. She had already asked me for an opportunity to harm servants to pass the time, and while I’d denied her I wondered how long it would take for her to take it out on her handmaiden. Tenoch and Atziri must have sensed her true, unsettling nature enough to fear her.

Those problems would go away once we transferred Eztli’s soul into her new receptacle, but we weren’t ready for the ritual yet and a handmaiden transfer would disrupt my well-oiled spy network at a critical time. I needed to placate Chindi’s cruelty somehow before she did something impulsive.

The easiest option would be a sacrifice. The human kind was out of the question, not when I was doing my best to improve my image in the eyes of gods and men. An animal ought to suffice for now.

“I will personally handle the matter with Tenoch and Atziri tonight,” I promised Ingrid. “As for Anaye, I will ask Tayatzin to fetch her a distraction.”

“Thank you, my lord.” My words appeared to reassure Ingrid, though she wisely didn’t dig for details about the ‘distraction’ part. “Otherwise, Chikal and I have organized your schedule for the day. Would you like to review it with me one last time?"

“Of course.” No man had two chances to make a first impression, and the starting day of a war ought to leave a memorable one. “If I understand correctly, we will meet with Ayar Manco himself on neutral ground after the war council?”

“Indeed,” Ingrid confirmed. “As the leaders of both war parties, you will meet to formally sanctify the chosen battlefield to the gods so that your soldiers can fight on pure grounds. This will also be an opportunity for Ayar Manco to bolster his standing among the Sapa people, since meeting with my lord on equal ground will provide a powerful symbol to his troops.”

I could see how. Ayar Manco accepted my offer of a Flower War in order to secure his bid for emperor against his brother, Ayar Cachi. Who else could declare war against the master of Yohuachanca on the realm’s behalf?

“I’m surprised Ayar Cachi would allow it,” I said. “Besides sending Aclla to us, he has been oddly silent. Is he gambling everything on his brother’s defeat and humiliation?”

“I suspect so,” Ingrid confirmed. “Aclla informed me that Ayar Cachi intends to send a contingent of warriors to represent him, but he hasn’t come himself. I assume he intends to exploit his brother’s absence on the frontlines to court allies for a ploy at the rear.”

As if on cue, Aclla and Nenetl exited their shared bedroom at this very moment. My heart skipped a beat upon seeing my sister’s sunken, red-rimmed eyes. I had given her some time to herself to process the truth of our relationship, as per her wish, and she had clearly spent a great deal of it crying in anguish.

A part of me yearned to take her into my arms and hug her, to gently wipe away her tears, but Iztacoatl’s laughter immediately resonated in my head the moment that thought crossed my mind. I cursed her and Mother for poisoning the mere idea of affection with shame and unease.

“Nenetl,” I greeted her, my voice less confident than I would have wished. “Are… are you well?”

I immediately cursed my words. Are you well? Was that the best I could come up with to soothe my sister’s anguish?

“Yes, I… my head feels clearer.” Nenetl shifted in place, her hands joined together. I could almost taste the anxiety radiating from her. “I… we overheard you. You were discussing the upcoming Flower War?”

Her attempt at changing the subject was so painfully clumsy and transparent that it would have made me smile under other circumstances. I could read between the lines. Nenetl wasn’t yet ready to discuss our… our issue. Not in public at least. Ingrid could read her unease too, but didn’t comment on it.

“We were,” I said, putting aside that troublesome matter for a later time. “We were trying to grasp Ayar Cachi’s strategy.”

Aclla offered me a deep bow. “Allow me to provide all the insight you may need, Your Majesty.”

“Then come sit with us,” I all but ordered her.

Nenetl and Aclla took me up on my offer, with my sister taking a place at my side. The small distance between us felt wider than a chasm. After a moment’s hesitation, I moved my hand to grab her own under the table. My sister let out a startled scoff when my warm fingers coiled around her cold ones, but she returned my grip tenfold. While the unease between us was palpable, I at least showed Nenetl that I would support her and that we could talk again once she felt comfortable enough to do so.

Ingrid briefly glanced at us and then focused on Aclla. “Will Ayar Cachi send warriors to face us?”

“He will, but only so his friendship with Your Majesty may remain secret,” Aclla replied. “His champions will fight separately from Lord Manco’s at a specific site whose location I have been informed of. I would beseech Your Divine Majesty to show them mercy.”

“Your brother wishes us to send weaklings to fight his warriors, so that his side may earn glory while Ayar Manco receives scorn,” Ingrid guessed almost immediately. “What would he offer in return for this kindness?”

Aclla’s smile had a knife’s edge to it. “Lord Cachi assured me that he would ensure Your Divine Majesty’s foes would not perform well.”

“How so?” I asked with a sharp frown.

“Lord Cachi did not see fit to inform me,” Aclla replied evasively. “Nonetheless, I am familiar with Katari Valley, the site where Your Divine Majesty will win his glorious victory, and the houses arrayed against you. Your divine strength, guided by wise advice, will no doubt secure you eternal glory.”

I wouldn’t be so confident. While no man could match me in battle now, I doubted the Sapa would fight fairly. The threat of Inkarri and his fellow mummy-lords loomed over this conflict too, while I had yet to figure out the Apu’s plans. That damn condor remained the great unknown of this conflict.

Moreover, I remained suspicious of Aclla and Ayar Cachi. The latter could be an ambitious upstart eager to see his rival brother fail, even if it meant bickering while enemies pounded at their empire’s gates… or a deceitful mastermind playing a longer game. Aclla’s advice could prove to be no more than the bait for the fish hook; her suggestions might turn out well for me until she could lure me into a trap.

And if Ayar Cachi and Manco were indeed foolish enough to bite at each other’s throat when an existential threat besieged their empire… then they deserved their fate.

“What can you tell me about the site?” I asked her.

“Katari Valley is a sacred land dedicated to Amaru, the ancient serpent your great empire calls Quetzalcoatl, whose back forms our mountains,” Aclla explained. “It is said that the valley was the result of his tail falling from the sky once the gods Illapa and Wayra stopped his rampage.”

“That’s, uh…” Nenetl scoffed nervously. “An interesting story.”

And a false one. Nonetheless, Aclla provided us with such a vivid description of the valley that I was convinced she had visited it in person. I absorbed every piece of information, every detail that could ensure my victory.

Nonetheless, my gaze kept wandering to my sister. She mostly kept to herself while gripping my hand so tightly that I wondered if she feared I would let her go. Mother said she would contact me in the waking world soon, heavily implying that it would be under the Sapa’s banner.

I doubted our family reunion would go well.

The Amaru Mountains lived up to their reputation.

They appeared over the horizon long before we reached the valley,

The smallest of them matched the size of Smoke Mountain, the tallest and mightiest of all of Yohuachanca’s volcanoes; others ascended further until their icy peaks pierced through the clouds to the point I couldn’t see their peaks. Their steep slopes, cliffs, and rock walls formed the impenetrable barrier that had allowed the Sapa people to resist subjugation time and time again. Seeing these sharp teeth of stone reaching for the highest skies made me wonder how anyone could live there at all, let alone build a successful civilization.

However, what caught my eyes the longest weren’t those mighty mountains, but the winged shadows circling them. Great combs adorned their heads and a ruffle of white feathers surrounded their necks.

Condors.

Inkarri’s gaze was now upon me, and I could only expect danger from now on.

The river my army had been following dropped into a large and winding valley of trackless plains full of vegetation which I didn’t recognize. Ancient groves grew in the shadow of jagged peaks next to muddy expanses and narrow passes obscured by plumes of smoke fueled by countless campfires.

Two large encampments faced each other from each side of the valley; the Sapa had gathered their forces at their mountains’ feet while my army set up its tents along the river itself. Our camp was the largest by far, and still held only a fraction of my manpower. The bulk of my troops were busy boarding ships in preparation for an attack along the Sapa Empire’s coastline.

Stolen novel; please report.

This surprise attack, which I’d carefully leaked to my enemies, would only unfold at the Flower War’s conclusion. My hope was that it ended in costly bloodshed that would let me bleed out the Nightkin. With the loss of Yoloxochitl’s secret weapon, the vampires would have no choice but to intervene personally in order to storm the mountains from above.

My goal for the war was threefold: garner favor with the army, show my magnanimity to my enemies, and purge the Nightlords’ servants from my army. I had spent most of my time with Chikal preparing the invasion and assessing my various generals’ loyalties in order to select those I could win over to my cause from the vampire loyalists. The former I would win over, and the latter I would destroy. I’d been careful to put the latter in charge of the armada’s landing, where fighting would be the thickest and most dangerous. That way I would ensure the demise of internal foes whether the operation succeeded or not.

Patli, general of the red-eyed Nightflowers—the military order dedicated to ‘protecting’ the emperor and generals on the vampires’ behalf—topped my list of targets. While I couldn’t afford sending him directly into the thick of battle without looking suspicious, I was determined to ensure his demise during the Flower War; and I already had a plan on how to achieve this.

Whatever the case, my arrival was celebrated by my troops. I triumphantly rode to them in the First Emperor’s armor and atop Itzili, who now towered over trihorns like an adult over a child. I greeted my troops as the very incarnation of martial power, ready to lead them to glory and seize heads in the empire’s name.

My longneck palace followed, and then the amazoness troops commanded by Chikal. Tlaxcala and Zyanya were given a choice place due to the former having been promoted to my standard bearer—a post for which he was wholly unsuited for but that would shower him and his wife with honor—while leading Zachilaa’s troops in my name. Members of my empire’s four fraternities—the Eagle Knights, Jaguar Warriors, Nightflowers, and Shorn Ones—closed the march. All the splendor of Yohuachanca walked by my side.

The banners of hundreds of subjugated tributaries and noble houses welcomed me. Flower Wars, due to their ritualized organization, were a rare opportunity for noble scions on quests for glory or ambitious upstarts to earn acclaim and a spot among the empire’s military fraternities. Considering the scale of this one, nobody in Yohuachanca without a modicum of influence had missed out on it.

The red-eyed priests set up a grand war tent for me where I gathered the leaders of the four military fraternities and my key advisors to prepare the flow of battle. Patli of the Nightflowers, Coaxoch of the Shorn Ones, Amoxtli of the Jaguar Warriors, and Cuauhteztli of the Eagle Knights all answered my summons, and each had their own idea of how to conduct the Flower War.

“As Your Majesty has no doubt been informed, this Flower War has been extended to seven days due to the number of participants,” Tayatzin reminded me. “The battles will last until sundown, will be waged with close-range weapons, and shall focus on capture rather than outright killing.”

“The side that brings back the most prisoners and loses the fewest troops will win the day’s engagement,” Amoxtli continued. “No man can fight for seven days straight, so we will need to organize our troops accordingly.”

“I am no mere man,” I declared boldly. “I will take the field myself each day. I shall not ask anything of my soldiers that I am unwilling to do personally. Let the Sapa learn a sharp lesson in fear and humility for defying the gods.”

Coaxoch nodded in appreciation. “Your Majesty is bold,” he said with enthusiasm. “Let my Shorn Ones fight at your side. Each of us is a veteran with dozens of captures to his name, and who have never taken a step back in battle.”

“My Eagle Knights will perform just as well, Your Majesty,” Cuauhteztli said. “Allow us the honor to fight at your side.”

I pondered their proposals. Coaxoch was right, the Shorn Ones were the best warriors the empire had to offer. While a man could join the Eagle Knights and Jaguar Warriors by capturing four captives, becoming a Shorn One required taking over a dozen prisoners and accomplishing twenty brave deeds. Otherwise, the difference between the Eagle Knights and Jaguar Warriors mostly resided in which Nightlord they dedicated their service to, with the former putting their faith in Sugey and the latter in the Jaguar Woman. Jaguar Warriors were fewer in number too because of slightly higher standards, but I’d seen no report that they’d performed any better than their rival fraternity.

I had another choice in mind anyway.

“Your eagerness is welcomed, but unnecessary,” Patli declared coldly. “The Nightflowers have defended all emperors during these engagements and never lost a single one.”

I’d hoped he would say that. The repeated security issues during my short reign had humiliated his fraternity and bolstered his desire to make up for it in the Nightlords’ eyes. This presented an excellent opportunity to thin out his military order.

“You speak true, Patli,” I said. “As the First Emperor first established our beautiful Yohuachanca with his daughters at his back, you shall follow me into battle against these heathens. Prove to me that your Nightflowers do not fear the light of day.”

Patli struck his chest with his palm. “I shall guard Your Divine Majesty with my life.”

And I would see to it that he lived up to his vow.

While Coaxoch seethed in disappointment, Amoxtli unfolded a map of the valley. “Your Majesty’s escort is only one warband among many to take the field today,” he said. “The first, fourth, and final day of a Flower War are always the most critical. Since accumulating victories early will bolster our morale, I suggest we open hostilities with solid veterans.”

“I agree,” Chikal said. “Our foes will no doubt think along the same lines and send out their best.”

I nodded and turned to Coaxoch and Cuauhteztli. “I hope your warriors shall prove up to the task.”

“They shall,” Coaxoch replied with a savage smirk. “We shall bring in thrice our numbers in sacrifices.”

I thanked these months of stressful situations for teaching me self-control, or else I would have winced.

Flower Wars focused on capturing and taking prisoners because most would be sacrificed during festivals in order to secure the Nightlords’ favor. The official goal of the exercise, after all, was to impress the enemy with Yohuachanca’s military power while training our troops and gathering blood for our vampiric overlords.

Not all captives were equal before the altar, however. Both sides usually released nobles or traded important prisoners when pragmatic to do so. Victorious warriors could expect to secure a tidy ransom with the right catch, and Yohuachanca often preferred to drain their foes’ wealth rather than their manpower.

But those were the exceptions. Most warriors could only expect a cruel death, whether at the war’s conclusion or during a harvest festival later this year.

Besides the fact that sacrificing their leaders wouldn’t endear me to the Sapa Empire, condoning these activities wouldn’t improve my image in the eyes of the gods and men. No such bloody ritual should unfold until the Flower War’s conclusion, so I still had time to find a way out of this particular bind.

“The mountains’ scions will be of more use to us as hostages than sacrifices once our coastline offensive unfolds,” I said. “Every prisoner ought to be treated well until we can ascertain their identity and value, so we may better bring the Sapa into the fold.”

Would Sugey allow me to spare the captives? That bloodthirsty beast would certainly extract her blood toll, but I had a few arguments to convince her. The loss of Yoloxochitl’s plague lessened our military might, so securing hostages that could pressure the Sapa into surrendering would serve us better than another pile of corpses. Appealing to the Nightlords’ desire to restore order by promising to sacrifice all the captives during a grand victory celebration—one that would reassure our frightened citizens—at a later date might do the trick too. By then, I might have gained enough power to challenge the Nightlords in direct combat.

I could also argue that a few men ought to be sent to Chilam as breeding chattel. Amazons followed me to battle in order to secure mates, and while I wouldn’t envy their fate, it beat spending an afterlife stewing inside a vampire’s stomach.

Who am I kidding? Even those weak attempts at mercy sounded empty in my own head. This Flower War is a trick for a larger invasion that will tear their homeland apart. The Sapa will see me as a deceitful conqueror no matter what I do.

No one argued with me on the matter, largely because the matter would be decided with the ‘goddess’ herself, and we spent the rest of the council planning our strategy. We would send out veterans on the first day in order to secure an early lead, then allow our younger warriors to gain experience tomorrow. The Sapa had agreed to hold battles of two hundred warriors at a maximum for a given site, though rotating reinforcements were allowed to replace dead warriors. Should two warriors have a claim to the same prisoner, a red-eyed ‘master of sacrifices’ would settle the dispute.

While I wasn’t entirely confident about the value of Aclla’s intel, I did agree to her request to send our weakest warriors to fight Cachi’s contingent. I couldn’t throw the fight—the plot would have been too obvious otherwise—but they wouldn’t confront our best.

I, meanwhile, would fight in the most dangerous spot possible: near the valley’s center, at the burning pyre meant to signal the start of hostilities between our armies. The Sapa would likely send their best men there to capture me, if not whatever creatures or horrors their Mallquis sorcerers could conjure.

Inkarri had already sent a spider Nahualli assassin after me, could manifest in the Underworld, and plotted the gods-knew-what in his mountain. I could expect to fight men with inhuman strength or other creatures.

Once the war council concluded, I personally oversaw the ritual cleansing of my chosen warriors in a public ceremony that involved the burning of copal incense and oaths of service. Whereas other fraternities painted their bodies or wore armors of jaguar fur, eagle feathers or cotton, all Nightflowers went shirtless, their only attire being crowns of flowers and pants of maguey fibers. They didn’t need more than their weapons. The Nightlords had blessed them with their blood, as their red eyes attested, but their manhood and strength had been allowed to develop unlike my palace’s eunuchs. Each of them was paler than normal, their fearsome faces betraying a kind of low, predatory hunger.

“Blessed are those who die a flowery death today, for they shall feast in the gods’ own halls!” I told each of these Nightlord thralls as I embraced them in a manly hug; and as my arms coiled around their chests, I discreetly summoned a Veil and secretly placed black feathers filled with malice into their shadows.

I would have required more time to create elaborate Curses and I had too many victims to be picky, so I infused them all with the same order.

‘Die today; die tomorrow; die for me.’

I’d pulled the strands of fate, and I would soon see if it gave me a gentle tug in return. This would be an excellent opportunity to test how absorbing Tlaloc’s embers empowered the Curse and bleed out my most problematic ‘supporters.’

The sun was almost halfway into the sky by the time we finished the ceremony. I rode atop Itzili onto the plain with my Nightflowers escort and a set of red-eyed priests at my back to meet with the Sapa delegation. Chikal had taken command of another group of amazons who would fight in a sacred grove, as did my other commanders. My men marched in steady order, with my feathered tyrant roaring at the front in his excitement. I must have looked like the First Emperor reborn on his back, with the scarlet Tlahuiztli and my jade bat mask gleaming in the sunlight.

We walked through flattened grain fields and wild grass until we reached the very center of the valley: a tall hill on which stood a large pyre of wood, paper, and incense big enough to burn for days. Some of my red-eyed priests were already there, alongside Sapa sorcerers with caps of feathers and wool robes.

A large group of soldiers arrived from the mountains to meet with us. True to Sugey’s own observations, the Sapa soldiers mostly came clothed in alpaca tunics, cotton armor, and wicker helmets. Their copper and bronze battleaxes contrasted greatly with our own obsidian weaponry, as did their spiked clubs and maces. They were older than our forces on average; none of them appeared younger than twenty-five, and some seemed to push into the fifties. It appeared their empire favored the experience of the old over the strength of the young. A handful of them wore bear pelts over their clothes, which made them stand out from the rest.

At their helm was a colossal and odd creature that rivaled Itzili in size. It was a strange beast roughly the same dimensions as an adult trihorn, but covered in a thick and impenetrable carapace of bony scutes. The head was short and blunt, shaped like an assault ram with deep jaws and grooved teeth. Its short legs were thicker than a tree’s trunk, and its tail was covered in bone rings that ended with a spiked mace.

I briefly mistook the creature for a macetail—the animal whose bones formed the bulk of my carrying frame in the Underworld—until I realized that the beast had no scales whatsoever. The head was covered in fur alongside the underbelly, and its face had more in common with rodents than snakes and lizards. The animal reminded me of those ‘armadillo’ animals housed in my menagerie, but many, many times larger and bulkier.

It was large enough to support a roving throne of gold at least. A man around my age sat on top of the creature’s back on a gilded chair protected from the sun by a clothed dais. He was of an impressive height, at least a head taller than me, with a robust build and a dark complexion. Two deep and expressive black eyes stared at me above a prominent nose, while his long and lustrous raven hair was adorned with more feathers and gold than my own imperial headdress. He wore an ornate, richly embroidered tunic, a gilded sash, and a multicolored cloak covered in complex rectangular and spiral motifs; while he carried a wealth of gold jewelry, gemstones, bracelets, and rings worth more than a city’s entire treasury. Although the man’s attire didn’t look like he would take the field today, his right hand gripped a mighty axe topped with a golden effigy of the sun. He stared at me with the pensive calculation of an experienced politician.

Ayar Manco carried himself with the dignity of an emperor. I would soon see how much of that was a show or the truth.

However, my eyes mostly lingered on a great, gold-feathered condor standing on the man’s left shoulder. Besides the beast’s unique coloration, its eyes stared at me with greater focus and intelligence than any creature on this forsaken earth.

“The emperor reigns on an empty throne, but the living dead rule from higher still,” the wind whispered in my ear. “Waiting for the storm that will shake the mountains.”

As I suspected, the Sapa Mallquis had cast their lot with Ayar Manco. How much did Inkarri tell his chosen prince? I’d once tried to approach Inkarri with an alliance the one time we met in the Underworld, only to be rebuffed once he decided destroying my soul would sabotage the Nightlords easily enough. It would make sense for him to inform Manco that I was a sorcerer of potent power, if only to encourage caution.

I didn’t think Inkarri would inform the Nightlords of my true nature; even if they believed him, I’d made clear that I was the vampires’ secret enemy. The best option when facing bickering enemies was to let them keep fighting rather than unite, and I didn’t think the condor sorcerer would be foolish enough to act otherwise. Nonetheless, any slip-up risked reaching Sugey’s ears and arousing her suspicions. I would have to be careful to avoid exposure.

However, all these questions and thoughts faded away from my mind when I saw the priests and seers escorting Manco. Most were men walking barefoot in embroidered tunics adorned with patterns and motifs representing gods and beasts, singing hymns to their deities, stomping the ground with their staves, or clutching amulets while praying. A handful of them bore the white hair and blue eyes that marked us as Nahualli, and I noticed a few women and witches in the group.

Mother walked among them.

I had always met Mother in the Underworld as a Tlacatecolotl, with her heart-fire exposed and owl-feathers on full display. Seeing her in the waking world, stripped of her supernatural features and glory, showed a wholly different side of her. She was around Necahual’s age, but fitter and slimmer than she had been. The resemblance between Nenetl and I was unmistakable, between her flowing white hair adorned with black feathers and pale eyes the color of ice. Her face was fair, and she greeted us with blue robes and a necklace of sapphires. I had to admit she looked quite elegant, even beautiful, and her sharp gaze gave her a sense of mysterious confidence most would find appealing.

I could almost see what charmed Father enough to take her for a wife. Almost.

The fact she showed herself in the open so brazenly, without a disguise or deceit, was a message in itself. Mother wouldn’t dare show herself here, so close to an army under a Nightlord’s protection, without heavy security guarantees. Neither would Ayar Manco. Inkarri and the Sapa sorcerers must be very confident in their ability to at least protect their leadership from Sugey’s wrath should the worst come to pass.

Nay, the mere fact that Mother had been allowed to join the procession of the would-be Sapa Emperor carried a great many implications. This wasn’t an honor granted to hedge witches or cave hermits, but to high-ranked priests or sorcerers of proven power. Mother did more than hide among the Sapa; she had earned favor among them, politically and spiritually.

My jaw clenched in frustration. My lie to the Nightlords that my mother worked with the Sapa Empire had been more correct than even I expected. Mother had clearly been working with Yohuachanca’s enemies for some time now, and more important than that, she had been living the high life while leaving us to stew in poverty.

How many more secrets did the viper hide from me?