The Demon of the Air Read Online Free PDF Page B

the sentence with evident relish. The strong arms that hauled me up by the hair and then cut it all away were his and it felt at the time as if he would have taken my scalp too if he had been allowed to.
    At the time, I would rather have died. Any Aztec would. I never forgave my brother for saving my life, any more than he and the rest of my family forgave me for blighting theirs. When I sold myself into slavery, I thought I was turning my back on them once and for all.
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    Even with night about to fall, the palace’s entrance and the space around it were choked with people. The lord of a foreign city on a state visit, bedecked with feathers, jade and gold, had to mingle with the litigant whose argument with his parish over a land grant had found its way into the court of appeal, with the seasoned warrior claiming his right to be fed at the palace and with the special envoy
whose voluminous ceremonial jacket entangled his neighbors’ elbows. They made a colorful crowd, shuffling slowly, mostly silently, toward the entrance, to be admitted or dismissed as the stewards saw fit.
    Ignoring them all, my brother strode directly toward the great stair that led up to the Emperor’s apartments. The crowd parted before us, putting a safe distance between themselves and our escort’s cudgels.
    My brother’s and the escort’s sandals clattered across the stuccoed patio. A few guards stood about, as stiff as statues, swords at the ready for any uninvited visitors. I imagined they would loosen up a little when my brother and I were called in, and they and his bodyguards could swap war stories and all be old soldiers together.
    â€œIs this going to take long?” Suddenly looming over the fear of what my master would do to me for being late was the prospect of meeting the Emperor. Even to look at his face was said to entail death for a commoner. What could I possibly have done, that he should want to interrogate me in person? “Why don’t we come back in the morning? Look, I’m in no fit state to be seen, I’m still all over blood from the sacrifice …”
    â€œShut up,” growled Lion, before disappearing into an antechamber. He came back a moment later, barefoot and lacking his earplugs, his fine cloak swapped for a plain one just too short to cover his knees.
    â€œAnd you always used to complain you had nothing to wear.” Nerves made me spiteful.
    â€œYou know perfectly well I’m not allowed to appear before the Emperor in a fine cloak. If I’d had time to go home instead of trailing around looking for you all evening, I wouldn’t have had to borrow this thing.”
    A steward called us forward. As we shuffled toward the room where the Emperor was waiting for us, he hissed urgently: “Don’t forget, you make three obeisances. You don’t speak unless he speaks to you first. If he makes a joke, laugh! You’ll know because he’ll be laughing too. Keep your eyes on the ground. When he’s finished with you, you leave walking backward. Turn your back on him and you’re dead!”

6
    I knew how the Emperor Montezuma looked, having seen him from a distance: a middle-aged man of middle height, slightly built but well muscled, with a neat beard. I dared not risk so much as a glance at him now, but if I had I would have been disappointed, as Montezuma was nowhere to be seen.
    Besides my brother, I saw five men in the room. They were all standing and all dressed in plain cloaks, like commoners come to present a petition. I knew none of their faces but I guessed that they included the Council of Four, the Emperor’s chief advisers. These men gloried in such tides as Keeper of the House of Darts, Keeper of the House of Darkness, Man Cutter and Raining Blood. They stood two on each side of a large wooden screen bearing pictures of gods picked out in gold. At right angles to it stood another richly decorated screen, and from the crackling and