Chapter Ten: Behind the Veil

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I could barely see anything beyond her face.

Oil lamps near the bedroom’s walls barely lit up the darkness. A pleasant smell of burning logs came from the fireplace, but I paid it no mind. I only smelled her flower perfume. The fur blanket wasn’t half as warm as her naked skin.

“Deeper,” Ingrid whispered with a whimpering sound. She moaned under me, her legs wrapped around me. Her arms pulled me closer as I drove into her again and again. She wouldn’t let me go. “Yes… Here’s your place, my emperor… Yes…”

I could only answer with a grunt. I was on top of her, in her, holding her. The mattress creaked under us, but I didn’t care. The whole world could have been collapsing on my head and I wouldn’t notice. I couldn’t tell how long it had been since dinner. Seconds, minutes, hours? It didn’t matter. I couldn’t focus on anything but Ingrid.

It shouldn’t feel this good, I thought. Eztli and I… we shared something special, so it felt wrong when Ingrid led me to the bed. I tried to protest, saying we didn’t have to do anything, but then she did that thing with her mouth and fingers, and before I knew it, we were in bed. I could die happy right now.

I tried to tell myself that Eztli said she wouldn’t mind sharing me with the other wives, that Ingrid and I were married too, and that I needed to play up being the emperor so no one would suspect me. But these were just excuses. I was making love to Ingrid because it felt good. Nothing more.

A blissful jolt of lightning coursed through my back and my body tensed. Ingrid tightened her embrace, as if afraid I would disappear. My loins ached and then I saw stars.

I finished with a grunt.

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After the bliss came the emptiness. My breathing shortened as the rush of pleasure receded. Ingrid relaxed her grip on me, her heartbeat slowing down. I rolled off her and stared at the ceiling, trying to put my thoughts in order. A mosaic of a red, bicephalous wolf loomed over me. Two creatures in one body.

I didn’t know why, but the sight drew a chuckle out of me. I would have bet my throne that Lady Sigrun put it there intentionally.

“We have pulque,” Ingrid murmured against my shoulder. She put a hand across my chest, her fingers caressing my nipples. “Or chocolate, if you prefer a sweet drink.”

I could hardly think of anything sweeter than what happened just now.

It had been so different from my first time with Eztli. First of all, Ingrid was warm to the touch; not lukewarm, but breathing and full of life. She was more experienced too. She taught me much.

Still, no matter how pleasant our lovemaking was, I felt it lacked something. My first time with Eztli was more… affectionate? We went a long way and held nothing back. Whereas I always sensed a certain distance between Ingrid and I. Our bodies worked in sync, but our hearts did not beat as one.

In the end, we were just using each other.

“Warm chocolate would be nice,” I whispered as I snuggled against her. “But I don’t want you to leave the bed right now.”

Ingrid smiled sweetly and then kissed me. A new jolt coursed through my spine, and my arms moved around her waist to pull her closer. If I wasn’t spent, I would make love to her all over again.

“It was my first time with a man,” Ingrid confessed when she let go of my lips. “I’m glad it was with you.”

“First time?” It actually surprised me. “It didn’t feel that way.”

“My mother taught me well. Men aren’t allowed in the harem, except emperors, and the Nightlords forbade them from touching me.” She snuggled against me. “I was meant for you, my lord.”

The word ‘lord’ immediately soured my mood. “Stop calling me that, Ingrid,” I said. “Just call me Iztac, at least when we’re alone. ”

“As you wish, Iztac.” Ingrid raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like being emperor, do you?”

I scoffed. “Are you looking forward to being sacrificed?”

“I prefer to think we’ll live like gods for a year. Sure, the last days will suck, but how many peasants would trade their lives for ours?” Ingrid shrugged. “We do not choose our destiny, Iztac, nor fight it. The best we can do is to make the best out of our fate.”

Her reasoning made sense. After all, I briefly shared it on the first day of my tenure. With no way to keep my freedom, wallowing in luxury and accepting my fate had seemed almost appealing. It would have meant becoming no different than the animals in my menagerie, but they seemed happy enough.

Yet I rejected that answer and decided to challenge fate.

Still, I could hardly fault Ingrid for her choices. She had a family who would outlive her and lacked my magic. Making the best out of her current situation made sense from her perspective.

The bedroom’s door opened and Lady Sigrun walked in with a platter. I instinctively pulled up the blanket to better cover Ingrid’s nakedness, but this only drew a laugh from her mother.

“You are kind to defend my daughter’s honor, Lord Iztac,” Lady Sigrun teased me. She set the platter on a bed table and offered me a warm chocolate drink. “But we have nothing to hide from each other.”

I sat against a pillow and accepted the drink. My fingers brushed against Sigrun’s for a second, and my eyes wandered to… other parts of her body.

I wonder if she’s as good in bed as Ingrid, I wondered, blushing slightly at the thought. Doubly so when Sigrun smirked as if she had read my mind. Get a hold of yourself, Iztac! Don’t let your cock think for you!

That woman was an experienced politician, and quite dangerous. I needed to keep her at arm’s length until I figured out whether she would make a good ally or an enemy.

Sigrun’s eyes glittered in the fireplace’s light. “You have more self-control than most, Lord Iztac, but you still have much to learn.”

I didn’t deny it. “Would you teach me?”

“If that is your wish.” Sigrun kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Ingrid, would you kindly play the harp after finishing your drink? I will give the emperor a massage.”

“Lucky you, Iztac.” Ingrid chuckled. “Mother is a magician with her hands.”

I hoped not. Sigrun was dangerous enough without sorcery.

After satiating my thirst, I lay on the bed with my back exposed. Lady Sigrun began to coat my skin in oil while Ingrid put on a dress and brought the harp into the room. I briefly closed my eyes and listened to her notes.

“Is every room in this palace unsafe to speak in?” I muttered under my breath.

“For you? Yes.” I shivered as Lady Sigrun’s hands traveled along my spine. “The Nightlords always have at least one spy following the emperor around. His four consorts are under constant surveillance too, though thankfully for me they usually ignore the imperial harem. Concubines do not truly matter in the grand scheme of things.”

I suspected as much. No wonder Lady Sigrun could smuggle goods in. The Nightlords believed her beneath their notice, allowing her to gather influence relatively unimpeded.

According to my predecessors, Sigrun had accumulated quite a network of contacts over her time in the palace. There were so many things I needed; information I could use to sabotage the empire; blackmail material I could sell to the Yaotzin; agents I could trust to do my bidding. I needed–

“Everything,” I said. “I want your full cooperation in everything.”

Sigrun scoffed. “Are you willing to give me everything?”

“I can give you what you want,” I replied. “I will treat Ingrid well and see that your family is taken care of.”

“That is not enough.” Lady Sigrun's hands began to press against my back, gently but firmly. "When you looked at the walls outside, what did you see?"

"A pen."

"A pen, yes. Everyone inside this palace, from the guards to the workers, is livestock for the Nightlords." Sigrun applied pressure on my shoulders. "You are a stallion, and we concubines are mares."

"Stallion? Mares?" I frowned in confusion. "I do not know these animals."

"I keep forgetting Yohuachanca doesn’t have horses," Lady Sigrun said, confusing me even more. "Let me rephrase my point: you are a turkey and we are hens. Your role is to look good and feed our owners, ours is to lay eggs, make chicks, and entertain you."

Now her hands moved to my neck.

"What do you think happens to hens who outlive their usefulness?" She asked me, her voice cold and deadly.

I scowled. "They get eaten."

"Our owners have us for dinner." Her thumbs pressed against my shoulders, which hurt me a bit. “When your time ends and another emperor takes your place, I will have to prove myself to them to avoid the altar. Everyone who doesn't make the cut is culled."

The imperial harem reached three thousand concubines at its apex, Tlacaelel told me on my first day. Though we had to sacrifice those past childbearing age, the sick, the useless, and the infirm before your coronation.

That purge happened each year, and over five hundred emperors preceded me. I dared not calculate the number of victims in my head. Man or woman, slave or emperor, we were all meat in the end.

“There are only three ways a concubine can stay alive for long in this place," Lady Sigrun explained as her daughter played a higher-pitched, more lively song than the last. "One, they must know how to charm an emperor. They must be beautiful, wise, and entertaining."

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” I complimented her. “Your beauty is only matched by your wit.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a chuckle. “But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Iztac. For some men, a woman is never young enough, thin enough, tall enough, etc.”

Considering my predecessors still held her in high regard after death, I guessed she had been perfect enough for all of them.

“Second, they must prove their health and fertility." Lady Sigrun began to massage my hips and thighs. "A concubine’s primary role is to bear the emperor’s children. Those who can no longer conceive are slain.”

My eyes widened in surprise. "Do you want me to–"

“If needs be, yes.” Lady Sigrun's fingers moved uncomfortably close to a certain area… "I try to avoid having too many children so as not to accumulate weight, but it has been a while since I had Astrid. The Nightlords might grow to believe that the well has dried."

Something about the way Lady Sigrun spoke of children—as a resource to be carefully managed to stave off the executioner’s knife—disturbed me to my core. I glanced at Ingrid, looking for… unease, I guessed? She answered me with a grin while plucking the strings. Her eyes did not smile when her lips did.

"What happens to the children of concubines?" I asked her mother.

"The boys leave to join the army when they come of age,” Lady Sigrun replied, the lamps’ light reflecting in her eyes. "Most girls end up joining the harem as either concubines or true consorts. The Nightlords believe an emperor's blood has magical properties and must be refined."

I never truly considered having children—I would have been lucky to find a wife with my condition. Knowing my sons and daughters would either become cannon fodder or breeding material only soured me further on the idea.

“And three, a concubine must be useful. And to do that, I will need to earn favors from a few individuals, which I can then trade to your successor.” Lady Sigrun’s hand trailed a line along my spine. “So tell me, Lord Iztac… what do you have to offer?”

I thought over her words and immediately noticed a troubling detail. “You speak as if I will die next year,” I said. “As if my fate is set in stone. It doesn’t have to be.”

Lady Sigrun’s eyes narrowed, although I couldn’t tell if it was out of disdain or sympathy. “I will not help you plot against the Nightlords and their kin, Lord Iztac. Palace intrigues carry their risks and rewards. Plotting against the vampires can only end in failure and disgrace. I’ve been here for nearly twenty years, Lord Iztac, so take my word for it: you cannot kill a Nightlord.”

“Your daughter will die if we do not try.”

Ingrid froze a second, her face unreadable. Her surprise only lasted a second before she started playing again.

Her mother, meanwhile, simply shrugged. “Ingrid will not survive the year, but Astrid and I will. We have made peace with the situation. You would better spend your last year either enjoying yourself or putting your affairs in order than waste it on an impossible task.”

An impossible task.

Lady Sigrun didn’t believe the status quo could change. Perhaps she had tried once, when she was younger and more naïve. Watching nearly two dozen emperors fail probably hardened her.

Could I reveal my magic to her? That we had a chance? No. Not only would she probably disbelieve my words, but they might make their way back to the Nightlords. Besides, sorcery let me hope for victory without guaranteeing it.

Besides, I did not fully trust her yet. I should test her first.

“What favors would you need from me?” I asked her.

Lady Sigrun smiled. Now, we were negotiating. “First of all, Ingrid must become your favorite consort in public. Heed her advice when you hold court. Show her affection. As her mother, people will come to me.”

I glanced at Ingrid, who still showed no reaction.

“Second, you must regularly invite me too,” Lady Sigrun explained while massaging my back. I had to admit I found it quite relaxing. “Let me join you for breakfast, send me gifts, and show the world that you appreciate my company. Once I suggest a set of appointments, you must follow through with them.”

In short, I needed to tell the world that Ingrid and her mother were my favorites. That they had my ears. That way, whoever they looked favorably upon would receive a share of their wealth and glory.

“I see no issues in giving you what you ask for,” I replied. If we were to form an alliance, we were bound to meet regularly anyway. “What will you give in return?”

“Not everything, but I can offer much.” She lowered her head until part of her hair brushed against my back. “What do you need? Besides Tlacaelel’s head on a platter? That one is for free.”

Lady Sigrun was a true merchant. I should take a leaf from her book. I should start by asking much and settling down for a compromise. “I want information on the Sapa Empire, especially their delegation,” I said. “I want blackmail material on this palace’s staff. The guards, the workers… you said you knew everything that happens within these walls. Well, I want to know it too.”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“You are quite greedy, Lord Iztac.”

“I can prove generous too.” The two of us could play the game. “I have an alternate method to gain information from outside the palace. Secrets that might prove useful to you.”

This immediately caught her interest. Though Lady Sigrun kept a neutral expression, I could almost taste her curiosity in the air. “How?”

“Will you name your contacts?” I asked her.

“Of course not.”

“Then you do not need to know mine either.” I doubted she would take me seriously if I told her I spoke to the wind. “My source repays secrets with secrets. If you give me incriminating information I can sell away, then I can fulfill a request of my own too.”

Lady Sigrun studied my face, looking for any hint of trickery. I returned her gaze without a word.

“You are bluffing,” she said. “You were a mere peasant a few days ago. While you might have made allies in the palace, your reach cannot reach farther than mine.”

“If you have a test in mind, pay the price and I will happily pass it.”

“It won’t hurt to try,” Lady Sigrun conceded. “I will not grant you access to all my knowledge. You have not proved worthy yet of such a large commitment from me, though that might change in the future. For now, let us work on a favor for favor basis.”

I scoffed. “Until we learn to trust each other?”

“Trust is more precious than gold within these walls.” Lady Sigrun smiled ear to ear, her perfect teeth white as chalk. “I shall give you a sample of what I can get you, and see what you can do with it.”

I hoped it would be worth its cost.

Massages were quite relaxing. Enough that I could find sleep without Necahual’s drugs.

Unlike my last two visits to the Underworld, I landed directly in Mictlan. I woke up in the plaza where Queen Mictecacihuatl taught me the Doll spell and received a biting welcome.

“About time!” Xolotl gnawed at my arm for a good minute before he agreed to let me go. He licked his fangs. “Mmm… you have gained meat.”

“I suppose I do eat much better nowadays.” Eating meat regularly did wonders to help build muscles. I still remained quite gaunt, but I was no longer starved. “Shouldn’t you be off gathering lost souls?”

“Do I detect a hint of blame in your voice?” Xolotl scratched his back. “Is this about those two souls you brought to Mictlan? I would have gotten them eventually.”

I snorted in skepticism. “You lost them for decades.”

“That’s barely the time to blink for a god like me! Is that the way to thank good Xolotl for doing a thankless job?” The dog deity eyed me maliciously. “You know, all of my twins are technically entitled to chewing you when you arrive in the Underworld. Maybe we should all take a turn.”

“Fine, fine.” I didn’t have anything to win by antagonizing Xolotl, and I had another target in mind. “Might you know where I could find the Market of Years?”

Xolotl chuckled ominously. “Oh, are you going to confront the old coyote?”

Yes, though I had a secondary objective in mind. “Do you know if they sell maps there?”

“You can find anything that was lost and forgotten at the market.” Xolotl tilted his head to the side, his eyes mischievous. “I can show you the way if you like… so long as you never doubt my work as a guide again.”

That proposal smelled fishy to me. By now, I had frequented Xolotl long enough to realize he never did anything for free. He wanted a favor from me in return, though I wondered what. Since I needed to go to Mictlan’s markets regardless, I accepted the offer with a sharp nod.

Xolotl led me out of the bone plaza and onto fossilized skin streets. As I examined the crooked, chalky buildings that towered over the alleys, I realized Mictlan was built on more corpses than just Mictlantecuhtli’s. Walls of animal skulls loomed next to vertebra hallways. Most belonged to beasts, but I recognized a few human bones merged with the rest. Xolotl noticed my curiosity and decided to enlighten me.

“Everything dies, my delicious Iztac, but only humans have the force of will to keep going for long,” Xolotl explained. “Once centuries pass and boredom settles in, the dead simply lay down. Their bones merge with the city, while their dulled minds fade into eternal slumber. This is the final sleep.”

“Are they…” I struggled to find the right word as I examined a human skull holding a torch in its mouth, lighting the alleyway. “Aware? Like the Parliament?”

“The sleeping dead are no more aware than plants. Some of them wake up after centuries and try their hand at unlife again, but those are few and far between.” Xolotl chuckled darkly. “As for your friends’ skulls, the pain keeps them sharp.”

The Parliament of Skulls experienced everything their successors did. My death on the altar would force them to relive their own torment all over again.

Xolotl guided me to one of the waterways crossing the city. A skeleton on a skiff awaited us, his bones wrapped in tattered black clothes. “The boatmen transport the dead from one district to another. This one will take you to the Market of Years, if you ask kindly.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his laziness. “You won’t lead me to the market yourself?”

“I said I would show you the way, not that I would hold your hand. I have work to do, thank you very much.” Xolotl scratched his back. “Is there something else you wish to ask of me?”

He wants to ask a favor from me, but a god does not beg a mortal for help, I realized. He would rather portray it as a payment for a service. I pondered what he could do for me, before an idea hit me. “You’ve guided every single person who has ever died, right?”

“Correct.” Xolotl immediately smelled an opportunity for a deal. “Is there a specific soul you’re interested in, my young mortal friend?”

“My father, Itzili.” He should have made his way to Mictlan, and a part of me deeply wished to meet him again; if only for comfort. “Could you find him?”

Xolotl cackled. “Not for free.”

Of course. “You want to chew my leg as well as my arm?”

“Tempting, but no.” Xolotl thought over his price for a few seconds before asking me another question. “Do you still intend to travel down into the lower levels of the Land of the Dead Suns?”

“I don’t have a choice,” I replied. The more information I gathered on the world above, the more I realized mastering sorcery would be my only way to escape the Nightlords’ grasp. “I’ve found a way to fulfill Lord Mictlantecuhtli’s request.”

“Is that so?” Xolotl tilted his head at me curiously. “I have a twin down there. The god you mortals know as Quetzalcoatl. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to leave this layer, let alone visit him.”

Quetzalcoatl? He was one of the four suns I was supposed to visit and claim the embers from, the lord of art and the wind. “Do you want me to carry a message?”

“Of a sort… but we can discuss it once you convince my king to open the gate.” Xolotl turned his back on me. “There are thousands of Itzili in this city, but now that I’ve tasted your blood it shouldn’t take long for me to find him. We shall meet again on your next trip, my dear Iztac.”

“I thank thee, Lord Xolotl,” I replied with a formal bow. The favor sounded light enough, though it implied I would need to survive my trip down to the lower layers.

Once Xolotl bolted back into the alleys, I asked the boatsman for a spot on his skiff, which he graciously agreed to.

“I seek the Market of Years,” I said. “How much will it cost?”

“A conversation,” the undead replied, much to my surprise. “You must be new. We boatmen do not guide the dead for money. We do it to stave off the final sleep.”

“Ah, I understand.” I glanced at countless houses of bones. “You need a hobby not to join them?”

“All of us must,” the boatsman said, his rotten teeth flashing a smile. “A good routine is the road to life.”

It made a great deal of sense. Death freed souls of bodily needs and pleasures. When one couldn’t drink, eat, or sleep, existence became truly dull without an active effort to carry on. Only work and play remained to keep a soul going.

The boatsman used a long, rotten pole of fossilized wood to carry us across Mictlan’s purple waters. The city’s riverways were eerily quiet, with naught but the sound of raindrops hitting its surface to break the monotony. The Boatman—who had long forgotten his own name—proved a nice conversationalist.

“So, if I understand correctly,” whispered the Boatman, “If you fail to defeat these vampires, you will be sacrificed and spend eternity in torment?”

“Pretty much.”

My host nodded to himself. “That’s rough, buddy.”

“Yes, it is rough.” I sighed. “But when I think of how many were sacrificed on my homeland’s altars, my soul would be a mere drop in an ocean of blood.”

“If they have been at it for over five hundred years, these vampires must have reaped millions.” The Boatman shrugged. “I am surprised. I thought almost all of us dead ones ended up in this city, one way or another.”

“I heard that dead warriors and women who perished in childbirth followed the sun across the sky,” I said. The priests said the First Emperor rewarded the brave by letting them follow in his celestial course.

The Boatman shook his head. “I heard the same tales when I was alive, but they were wrong. King or slave, warrior or coward, we all end up in the same place. Those who die of lightning and drowning go to Tlalocan though.”

“Tlalocan? The land of Tlaloc?” Tlaloc was said to have been the sun before his wife Chalchiuhtlicue.

“The second layer of the Underworld beneath Mictlan, where Lord Tlaloc holds sway,” the Boatman confirmed. “See, souls sacrificed to a god go to that god’s realm when they die. Lord Tlaloc holds sway over those who perished from his storms.”

Interesting… I wondered if there was a connection between that mechanism and my own curse. Queen Mictecacihuatl warned me that all vampires descended from a god that arose from the Underworld’s lower depths. If it was the First Emperor of legends, then perhaps it was he who prevented Yohuachanca’s emperors from truly passing on.

“What can you tell me about the second layer?” I questioned the Boatman.

“Not much. King Mictlantecuhtli does not let the dead venture into the lower levels, nor does he allow the creatures below to invade Mictlan. Which suggests that the place must be a special kind of hell.” The Boatman lowered his back as we traveled under a bridge of interwoven spines. “However…”

“However?”

“I’ve heard rumors of a witch who can travel freely across the Land of the Dead Suns. She makes her lair in a place called Xilbaba, the House of Fright, somewhere in Tlalocan.” The Boatman shrugged. “Might be nothing but empty tales though.”

“Maybe,” I replied, though if that witch was indeed the person I had in mind… then I now knew where to look for my mother. Xilbaba…

I heard the Market of Years long before it came into sight: flute melodies and the beat of thunderous drums echoed in the air for miles around the place. Many other skiffs—some carrying dozens of lost souls—traveled in that direction, towards basalt plazas and porphyry spires, to the point that it clogged the waterway where the Boatman dropped me nearby.

“You’ll be quicker on foot from here,” he said. “Just follow the music.”

“I shall.” I jumped onto the docks and politely bade him goodbye. “Thank you for the conversation.”

A few minutes afterward, I joined the crowds walking into the Market of Years.

The place drew a gasp from me, for it put even the capital’s markets to shame. Hundreds of stalls crafted from the remains of colossal creatures—from longneck ribcages to feathered tyrant skulls—sprawled before me in maze-like lines. Skeletal merchants adorned with tattered garments beckoned visiting souls to come closer with slow gestures and welcoming whispers, to witness their wares.

Since I stood out from the rest of the city as a Tlacatecolotl—having flesh to cover most of my bones—I brought attention upon myself. Merchants singled me out from the crowd, and I indulged them by checking out their stands.

The dead had no need for food or drink, and since nothing alive made its way to the Underworld, I saw no fruit or meat. Instead, the merchants offered a vast array of crafted goods: obsidian mirrors, polished bone instruments, ceramic pottery, tattered textiles, and entangled tapestries. For the most part, these stalls did not change much from what one could find above ground.

However, the deeper I went into the market, the stranger the offerings. A shop sold hundreds of keys made of various materials, from rusty metal to bone and stone. Another merchant sold tablets taller than me, each of which were inscribed with a carved monster; I heard voices whispering from within the stone when I approached closely. A third sold strange wooden boxes covered in odd symbols. I found these goods so odd that I stopped to examine them more closely.

“These are puzzle boxes, oh spirit,” the merchant explained, amused by my curiosity. “The Tollan civilization used them to keep secrets. Find the correct combination, and the box will reveal a message to you.”

“The Tollans?” I squinted while studying one of the boxes. Each face was made of nine small cubes, which appeared capable of moving around. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“They vanished a few hundred…” The merchant scratched the back of his head. “A few thousand years ago? It has been so long, I can no longer remember.”

I had to admit I was curious about what kind of civilization built these toys. “How did you find these boxes?”

“I picked them up,” the merchant replied with a shrug. “Goods trickle down from the stone skies, and the lost call to the lost. I gathered three, four, and before I knew it, one box found its way to me each century.”

“Very interesting,” I said while putting the puzzle box back on the stand. “How much would these boxes cost?”

“I usually sell them for a year of company,” the merchant rasped with a crooked smile. “But for a spirit, I am willing to settle for a month.”

I finally understood the meaning behind the market’s name. The Market of Years’ currency was not gold, but time. The dead traded weeks, months, or years of service and company in order to stave off their final sleep.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have a month to spare, so I politely refused his offer and carried on. I checked the stalls until I found one that sold old, tattered scrolls and books. Most of them were written in dead languages I couldn’t understand, but one included an outdated map of the continent.

“You have a good eye, spirit,” the merchant flattered me. “This is a map of the Boiling Sea from two hundred years ago.”

“Three,” I corrected him. Yohuachanca’s frontiers were a fraction of what they were today. Half a dozen dead empires stood on the dry parchment, the ink shaping their borders an epitaph. Thankfully, the Boiling Sea itself hadn’t changed at all. It would serve me well. “How much for this one?”

Thankfully, he didn’t ask for time. “What do you offer, spirit?”

An idea crossed my mind. “Have you ever flown?”

The merchant stroked his bony chin. “Flown?”

I answered by adopting my Tonalli shape. A few startled visitors shrieked in surprise as my arms transformed into wings and my legs into talons, but many more gathered around me out of curiosity. I assumed most of them had never heard of a Tlacatecolotl, let alone seen one.

“I will buy your map for ten minutes of flight,” I offered the astonished merchant. “I shall carry you in my talons as we fly over the city. You will remember this memory for centuries.”

“Oh my…” The merchant gave thought to my proposal and agreed with a nod. “I would be thankful, oh spirit.”

A few minutes and a short aerial tour of the city later, I walked away from the stall with a map. The merchant—who went by the name of Tolteca—offered me a bag of worn leather to carry the map around in, in exchange for the promise that I would come back to visit his stall. I actually intended to follow through; knowledge was power, and some of the scrolls he sold might contain secrets I could use.

Unfortunately, transforming into a bird and offering a flying tour of Mictlan came with downsides; namely, hordes of bored skeletons all but begging for their turn. “I will give you a mirror for ten minutes of your time, oh spirit!” one said. “Will you take my son for a ride in exchange for a statue?” another offered. “Please, crush me under your mighty talons,” a third all but pleaded with a tone far from chaste. “I beg of you!”

“Uh, I am forbidden from harming the dead,” I replied to the latter while returning to my human form. “I’m looking for someone called Huehuecoyotl. Could you point me in his direction?”

Ten fingers pointed in a gaudy tent’s direction, one located on the very outskirts of the marketplace. Its orange-and-purple coloring stood out from the other stall in many ways, and I couldn’t recognize its texture; the cloth appeared to simmer like a fading dream, and the diaphanous veils covering the entrance glowed brighter than a rainbow. A garish-painted signboard stood near the threshold, with words appearing in common Yohuachancan the moment I gave it a look.

Huehuecoyotl’s Spirit Message Agency!

Tired of waiting for friends and family to arrive? Contact your living relatives now! The service is to die for!

That… sounded fishy. Very fishy.

I walked past the veils and into a space far bigger than the outside would suggest. A ring of ghostly flames floated at the edge of the room, illuminating it. Two undead sat on wooden chairs around a crystal sphere sitting atop a table and a crimson cloak. It seemed I had walked in the middle of a performance of sorts.

“Do you see, ma’am?” A strange man sat behind the table, whispering with a voice brimming with power. Much like every other citizen of the Underworld, not a single scrap of flesh covered his bones. However, his skull belonged not to a man, but a canine of some kind. Unlike most people outside, his ceremonial clothes—which included a cotton jacket and an embroidered cloak—were made of refined, colorful material rather than tattered scraps. “Do you see your dear husband?”

“Yes, I see him,” the client said, an undead woman who differed from her fellows outside only from the golden rings glittering on her fingers. “My Khuno… he has remained faithful!”

I approached closer to get a better look. These two stared into the crystal ball with such intensity that they didn’t notice me. To my surprise, I witnessed images swirling on its surface. I saw a handsome man with Sapa-like features and graying hair in a village with mountains in the background. The vivid level of detail astonished me. The color of the sky, the wrinkles on the man’s skin, the sound of the wind blowing in the background… I even detected a sweet, flowery smell coming from the crystal ball. It was as if its surface was a window into the world above.

Is that an Augury spell? I wondered as I watched the man whisper words before a strange stone totem in a tongue I could not understand. No, my own version cannot show me visions. This is something else.

“His devotion for you never wavered,” the coyote-headed man said—whom I now assumed was Huehuecoyotl. “Countless women threw themselves at his feet, but none could match you in his heart.”

“He is praying…” The client covered her mouth in surprise. “Has he finally become our tribe’s shaman?”

“Indeed,” Huehuecoyotl confirmed with a happy nod. “The entire Quillan tribe bows before his wisdom.”

And then I remembered that Huehuecoyotl was a known trickster.

“He’s lying to you,” I said with a snort of disdain. “The Quillan were conquered five years ago.”

The women didn’t appear to notice. “I am so proud of him…“ she whispered with a sob, completely entranced by the vision. “All this time, I thought he would only shame me…”

“Excuse me?” I waved a hand in front of the woman’s eyes. She did not even react. “Hello?”

“Are you going to shut up, man?!” Huehuecoyotl snapped at me. “She can’t hear you, and I would appreciate it if you would stop interrupting my–”

The conman stopped upon examining me more closely. His empty eye holes stared at my face, then at the fire in my chest, and finally, at my legs. His gaze strangely lingered the longest on them.

“Is that an ass?” he asked me, rising from his seat to take a better look.

I held his gaze, too puzzled by his question to react. Something in his tone sent shivers down my spine.

“It is an ass, two beautiful mounds of flesh! And that stinger…” His empty eye holes lit up with a disturbing green glow. “Is that a perfectly functional appendage?”

His hand moved across the table and put his hand between my legs, at a spot which only Eztli and Ingrid dared to explore.

To protect myself, I changed into a bird.

My arms unfurled into black wings whose span reached from one end of the tent to the other. My sharp beak let out a screech high-pitched enough to raise the dead. My nails grew into talons sharp enough to tear flesh asunder. Countless would have recoiled in fear at the sight of my transformation.

Huehuecoyotl answered it with two words.

“Even better,” he muttered.

What was wrong with this… this fool?

Huehuecoyotl’s fascination with me broke the concentration of his spell. The pictures on the crystal ball’s surface faded away, alongside the smell and sound, which allowed the client to return to reality. “Mister? What is—AH!”

She fell out of her chair screaming upon seeing me. Huehuecoyotl waved a hand at her almost dismissively. “Don’t worry ma’am, everything’s under control!” Huehuecoyotl said. “Take a good look, it’s just a turkey spirit!”

I glared at him, but the woman immediately calmed down. “Oh right, I hadn’t noticed,” she said, even chucking at me. Me. A giant owl who could tear her to shreds. “Poor me, scared out of her own shadow…”

“Yes, yes, yes, ma’am, you need to take a rest!” Huehuecoyotl said while gently pushing her towards the exit. “I’ll send your regards to your husband!”

“But–” she protested.

“It’s been a pleasure, come back never!” Huehuecoyotl all but shoved his customer through his tent’s veil. Then he immediately turned to face me with hands trembling in excitement. “Are you a Tlacatecolotl?”

“No, I am a giant turkey.” Now that we were alone in the tent, my eyes wandered from the strange coyote-man to his crystal ball. “Was that the Veil spell you used?”

“Ah, and he’s a smart customer too!” Huehuecoyotl crossed his arms and nodded with a smug grin. “Indeed, my dear feathered visitor, this is all my Veil’s doing! The pictures, the places, everything! Even the tent’s colors are fake!”

He snapped his fingers, and the tent immediately gained a few hundred years. Holes appeared on the cloth, the cloak covering the table vanished, and even the pristine crystal ball turned into a half-shattered stone.

I had to confess I was impressed. If the Veil spell could trick my senses so easily, or prevent that woman from hearing my voice, I could use it to hide my activities. Still, I couldn’t close my eyes on Huehuecoyotl’s trickery.

“So you indeed lied to that woman.” I glared at this crook. “Have you no shame, exploiting her grief?”

“Look, man, if someone is stupid enough to believe I can contact the living, clearly they’re guilty of willful ignorance! They’re the real criminals! I would even say I’m doing a service, a public service!” He just kept inventing new excuses on the spot, too fast for me to counter them. “I’m not selling the truth, I’m selling an experience! A good con is like good sex, it requires mutual consent! She’s going to come back for more, you’ll see–”

At my wit’s end, I activated my Doll spell and targeted that unruly mouth of his. I was very much inexperienced in it so I only managed to snap his jaw shut with enough strength to crack one of Huehuecoyotl’s teeth. I immediately regretted my action, until he let out a muffled squeal of pleasure.

“Are you… do you enjoy getting hurt?” I released him on the spot, my pity immediately turning to disgust. “What is your problem?”

If anything, Huehuecoyotl only managed to dig himself deeper. “Do you understand what you can do with only a pelvis bone and your imagination? Not much!”

I held his gaze in silence, looking down on him, judging him.

“Hey, hey, come on, stop looking at me like that…” The old coyote laughed in embarrassment. “I would have reacted the same if you had a pair of breasts. I mean, can you imagine hundreds of years without seeing a piece of flesh? Seeing you, it’s like witnessing the miracle of life all over again!”

Xolotl… That bastard, he knew. They all knew.

I have to bear it, I told myself. For the sake of victory, I was willing to deal with this… piece of garbage. This is nothing compared to what I’ve endured.

“Anyway…” Huehuecoyotl slouched back in his chair, his legs crossed and his hands behind the back of his head. “Why did you come to my humble shop, mister…”

“Iztac,” I replied, my blood boiling when Huehuecoyotl whistled at me. “Stop it.”

“Come on, Izty, relax.” Unfortunately, my unease only encouraged the dirty coyote. “I don’t bite, I nibble.”

“Stop it.” I dared not return to my human shape, lest he do something inappropriate. “I have come to learn the Veil spell from you. Just teach me and I’ll be on my way.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, birdie. It took me many, many years of practice to master my Veil spell!” Huehuecoyotl licked his fangs in a way that I found deeply unsettling. “If you want my expertise, you’ll have to pay up one way or another...”

Come on, Iztac, he’s toying with you. I could see the mischief in his eyes. This old coyote delighted in making me squirm. If I was to triumph, I couldn’t indulge him. I gathered my breath, thought over my options, and regained my composure.

“I am a Tlacatecolotl, he who can travel between the living world and the house of the dead,” I said with all the dignity I could muster. “There is much I can offer you, Huehuecoyotl. Greater rewards than childish pleasures.”

“Greater rewards, eh?” Huehuecoyotl meditated on my words for a few seconds, a dark chuckle rising from his throat. “Eh… eh…”

His chuckle grew into a billowing laugh, then a burst of hysterical laughter that echoed into the tent. I waited for him to calm down, as stoic and silent as a stone weathering the wind.

“Alright, alright… I’ll teach you my beautiful spell.” Huehuecoyotl rubbed a thumb and index finger together. “If you pass a very simple test. A trifle, truly.”

The Parliament’s warning weighed heavily on my mind. Expect to be pranked. “Go on.”

Huehuecoyotl joined his hands, his teeth arranged into a ghastly smile.

“Make me happy,” he said.