Blood & Fur

Chapter Forty: The Spider's Web

Chapter Forty: The Spider's Web

My cheeks still hurt by the time I was forcefully returned to my private quarters.

“For now, my dear songbird, I must ensure that your cage is secure,” Iztacoatl said when she had me escorted out of the throne room. “Go breed in your pen. We need more blood to replace our lost livestock.” A smile had stretched on her wicked lips and unveiled the fangs underneath. “A woman a day keeps my whip away. Remember that.”

That hateful creature…

I had underestimated her. With Yoloxochitl constantly threatening Eztli and her mother in her jealous madness and the Jaguar Woman’s overwhelming cruelty, Iztacoatl had hardly factored into my schemes and plans. To my sorrow, I now fully understood the danger she posed.

Namely, she was cautious.

Whereas the Jaguar Woman thought that she had crushed my spirit and Sugey hardly seemed to be the subtle type, Iztacoatl had seen right through me. She didn’t know I could wield sorcery, but she understood that I wished the Nightlords harm and that I could cause them a great deal of trouble under the right circumstances. I should expect more surveillance from now on, more traps and dangers.

I needed to consult the previous emperors. This situation might be unprecedented for all of us, but they should surely provide me with much-needed wisdom.

A red-eyed priest entered my quarters as I pondered what to do next. I could immediately tell he would be different from the others. He was young for a start, hardly half of Tezozomoc’s age. His hair was a tousled mane of midnight blue framing a rugged face and a wry smile. Unlike his more modest colleagues, he dressed almost as well as me, with dark robes rich with embroidered gold and a ruby neckline.

This one is dangerous. I could tell from the sinister glint in his crimson eyes, full of calculated ambition. Then it struck me. He looked up.

It was customary for priests to avoid meeting the emperor’s gaze unless ordered to do so. Though this man knelt and bowed with all the respect expected of our respective positions, the mere fact he had dared to ignore protocol spoke volumes about his mindset.

“Your Majesty, the goddesses have granted me the honor and pleasure of serving you in these difficult times,” the man said with a charming, pleasant voice. It reminded me of those male singers playing in the capital’s streets for a handful of cocoa beans. “I am Tayatzin. Your will is my command.”

His name sounded vaguely familiar. I recalled Ingrid once mentioning him as one of Tlacaelel’s potential replacements before Tezozomoc earned the place. What did she say about him then?

Ah yes, I recalled. ‘He’s the youngest eunuch, and the most energetic.’

Those same qualities caused the Nightlords to pass him over for the more passive Tezozomoc. I supposed that with the loss of one-fourth of the priesthood and the disaster striking the empire, they would rather favor initiative over doubt and caution.

“I wish to meditate in the Reliquary,” I said sternly, my eyes glancing through my obsidian window. I could see Smoke Mountain’s continuing eruption from here. “These have been trying times indeed and I require some peace of mind.”

“Unfortunately, I have been given explicit orders to keep you safe and sound inside your personal quarters,” Tayatzin replied with what seemed to be a genuine sigh. “The goddesses suspect that your life is in danger and would like to reduce your movements to a strict minimum. I may, however, bring you any form of entertainment that you request.”

I didn’t wish for entertainment. I wanted advice.

“I suppose you cannot transport the Reliquary to my room?” I replied with heavy sarcasm.

“That would be difficult,” Tayatzin replied with a chuckle. How casual for a priest. “I understand that Your Majesty made the Reliquary their favorite meditation spot, but I’m sure we can build a similar refuge of the mind within your quarters. We don’t lack skulls around these parts.”

The dark joke almost brought a smile to my lips. Almost.

While I simply faked mere annoyance on the outside, I was simmering beneath the surface. I couldn’t consult my predecessors, I couldn’t see my consorts, I couldn’t leave my quarters… my narrow prison had shrunk all the way down to my own bedchambers.

Should I visit the Reliquary in Tonalli form? I quickly decided against it. With the Nightlords wary of magical interference, they might set a trap to detect my movements in spirit form. I ought to play it safe and consult my predecessors in person first.

I need to calm down, to think this through. I gathered my breath and focused on the obsidian window. I cannot act too rashly.

Iztacoatl wanted me to slip up, to stumble and expose myself. She would no doubt scrutinize my actions in the coming days and investigate any unusual behavior. Showing too much interest in the Reliquary might cause her to suspect something was amiss with the place.

I needed to be patient. The eruption and its chaos had sparkled a surge of paranoia from the Nightlords, but neither would last forever. Once Smoke Mountain ran out of fire and my captors believed themselves safe from Sapa interference, they would loosen my chains. I would at least be allowed to leave my chambers, even if I suspected that Iztacoatl would keep looking over my shoulder

For now, I could do little inside these walls besides waiting.

My eyes wandered to the gardens outside. The ashes reached all the way to my menagerie. If any of Yoloxochitl’s plants had survived her demise, I hoped the burning embers would finish them off.

Did that madwoman leave any legacy behind? The thought started to bother me. Yoloxochitl was supposed to tell me what weapon the Nightlords intended to use against the Sapa Empire.

I had no doubt that a devastating war would unfold. The Nightlords would be out for blood for their sister’s demise, and all evidence would point to their rivals to the south. Yohuachanca’s armies would descend upon the Sapa people with a fury never before seen.

It was my duty to ensure it would cost the empire dearly. If Yoloxochitl’s mysterious weapon had survived its creator’s demise, I needed to uncover and destroy it.

“We evacuated your pets to a secure place underground until the eruption ends, Your Majesty, including your new feline,” Tayatzin said. He must have mistaken my focus on the gardens for concern. “Your feathered tyrant had to be caged, but is otherwise safe and sound.”

“Itzili?” To my own surprise, I found myself slightly concerned. I knew Itzili was nothing more than an animal, but I had grown fond of him. “Caged, you say?”

“For its own sake,” the priest quickly insisted. “The eruption agitated all the creatures in your menagerie, but your feathered tyrant grew unusually aggressive. It killed one handler and maimed another before we managed to safely evacuate it.”

Good boy. I would be sure to give Itzili a treat. I wondered how much of this sudden behavior came from fear of the eruption or the fact I had fed him some of my blood. Perhaps I should test the Riding spell on him…

“I wish him to remain unharmed,” I ordered Tayatzin. “Itzili is dear to me. I am certain he will calm down once the eruption ends. You will keep me informed of his condition until that time comes.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the priest replied with a wry smile. “Do you wish for anything else?”

“Bring me my slave Necahual.” Since Iztacoatl had ordered me to breed like a turkey, I had the perfect cover to meet with her. “If I cannot meditate in solitude, I will settle for good company.”

“Your will is my command, Your Majesty.” Tayatzin cleared his throat. “However, might I ask if you have decided to elevate Lady Necahual's rank?”

I frowned at him in confusion. “Her rank?”

“Oh?” Tayatzin’s eyebrow arched with curiosity. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I thought my predecessors would have told you. Your harem follows a strict hierarchy of seven ranks with different duties and privileges.”

Interesting. I did not know that.

“I haven’t had much time for female company lately, so I didn’t pay it much attention,” I replied truthfully. “How are these ranks organized?”

“As a pyramid, like your own empire,” Tayatzin replied with a light chuckle. Unlike Tlacaelel’s insufferable laughter, his own carried a certain roguish charm. “Your four consorts shine at the top like the stars above the earth. They possess their own luxurious quarters, servants, guards… in short, all the accommodations expected from the goddesses’ chosen.”

All the accommodations except freedom. That already told me much. If my consorts enjoyed so little at the top of the hierarchy, the lowest ranks probably suffered in misery.

“At the bottom are the maids and attendants, who have not slept with the emperor and thus have been denied his divine grace,” Tayatzin confirmed. “The former is fit only for menial tasks like cleaning, while the latter possesses valuable skills such as singing, dancing, and intelligent conversation. Both are expected to serve higher-ranked concubines and must share common quarters. We usually put ten of them in the same room to minimize the space they take up.”

In short, they were little more than palace slaves. I supposed the naked women who fanned me each morning belonged to those two categories.

“Above them are the actual concubines, women whom the current emperor has blessed with his divine seed.” Tayatzin smiled mischievously. “A category of one for now.”

“A number that might increase soon,” I replied calmly, though I hardly relished the thought of bedding more desperate slaves. “But proceed.”

“While they must still serve their betters as ladies-in-waiting, concubines are afforded their own rooms and a few maids. Lady Necahual was raised to this rank after satisfying you.”

I felt a slight hint of compassion for Necahual. Being awarded her own room and slaves after sleeping with me must have felt like salt poured on a bloody wound. An insult on top of the injury.

“Above concubines are the noble mothers who have given birth to an emperor's child, whether the current one or their predecessors,” Tayatzin continued. “Having proved their fertility, they are afforded larger quarters fit to rear children, granted a retinue, and spared menial work so that they may raise their blessed children.”

Daughters for the harem, and sons for a fate so atrocious that even the dead won’t speak of it. The thought sickened my stomach. “How many noble mothers currently dwell within these walls, Tayatzin?”

“Three hundred and thirty-six,” the man replied with confidence. I wondered if he had counted them himself. “One woman out of ten.”

A sizable number, but not an overwhelming one either. I supposed not all of my predecessors had been as prolific as Nochtli the Fourteenth. The various purges, including the Jaguar Woman’s, had taken their toll too.

“Above them are the favorites. This rank is only awarded to a concubine by the emperor's decision. They may enjoy their own comfortable quarters, several attendants, and a life free of work so that they may dedicate their lives to the emperor's pleasure.” Tayatzin marked a short pause, as if considering his next words, before finally deciding to proceed with them. “The late Lady Sigrun had never been demoted below this rank since her arrival.”

It hardly surprised me considering that she had ruled the harem in all but name for years. I did remark that Tayatzin mentioned seven ranks and that favorites were only the third from the top.

“What’s above the favorites?” I inquired. “Since this echelon seems to be the highest that I can confer, I assume that the ones above follow criteria outside of my control.”

“Your Majesty possesses a sharp mind,” Tayatzin complimented me. “Second only to your consorts are the godkin: the female relatives of emperors and consorts, past and present. The late Lady Sigrun occupied this echelon after her daughter’s ascension, and now her daughter Astrid currently does. They possess their own large quarters, a large retinue, and more privileges. They are spared from work to better guide Your Majesty and his four beloveds on the path to good rulership.”

The fact the priests already considered Astrid, a child, as a potential future concubine sickened me to my core. I hoped none of my predecessors had yet descended into such depravity.

“Have any of my predecessors attempted to change this system?” I pressed on.

Tayatzin shook his head. “These rankings were established by the goddesses themselves at the dawn of Yohuachanca. It reflects the divine hierarchy of the world and is thus inviolable.”

Another lie, but one that told me much about the Nightlords’ priorities. The harem didn’t follow a hierarchy based on birth or merit, no. It rewarded those who gave the emperor pleasure and children.

Under normal circumstances, the harem's denizens could only aspire to the rank of favorites, where they could live in luxury and enjoy privileged access to the emperor. A concubine’s path to social ascension seemed clear to me: earning the emperor's attention to sleep with them and bear their children while hoping that their daughters would eventually become consorts in the future, and then earn the emperor’s official favor. Lady Sigrun had played that game close to perfection until she clawed her way all the way up to the rank of godkin.

Still, something bothered me about these explanations.

“How many godkin live in my palace?” I asked Tayatzin.

“Fifty-six for now,” he replied. “Thirty-six are the daughters of previous emperors. The others are sisters or close relatives from previous administrations. Your generation’s consorts brought in few to no godkin among their extended family.”

A dreadful chill traveled down my spine as I did a quick calculus. The harem housed over three hundred mothers. Assuming half of them gave birth to a single daughter, this meant only a fifth of that number lived to become a godkin. Where did the other fourth go?

To the altar, a voice in my head told me. One way or another, they all end up on the altar.

“A detail bothers me,” I said. “You said Necahual would be elevated to concubine after sleeping with me, but shouldn’t she be a godkin already? She gave birth to one of my consorts.”

Tayatzin shrugged. “The Goddess Yoloxochitl explicitly asked us to degrade Lady Necahual to the rank of maid. She considered her relationship to Lady Eztli severed upon her immortal elevation.”

Somehow, such levels of pettiness did not surprise me in the least when coming from Yoloxochitl. I wouldn’t miss her.

Unfortunately, it meant I couldn't raise Necahual to the rank of godkin, as it would mean going against the late Yoloxochitl's direct decision; an act her paranoid sisters were unlikely to take well.

“From what I understand, only the godkin and noble mothers cannot be demoted,” I said. “My predecessor Nochtli must have had favorites of his own though. What happened to them?”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“We usually maintain the previous emperor’s ranking until the New Fire Ceremony for simplicity’s sake,” Tayatzin replied. “Hence my question about Lady Necahual. Now that the previous year has come to an explosive close, we have entered the Crocodile’s month. A time of culling and consumption.”

I suppressed a sneer of disgust. “My harem has been culled enough already.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I did not mean to suggest another purge.” The priest cleared his throat. “Instead, I propose that we degrade your predecessors’ favorites to the rank of concubine for fairness’ sake. Those who do not catch your fancy before the end of the Crocodile’s month will then be further demoted to the rank of attendant.”

“Why not simply demote them all?”

“Your predecessor raised nearly a hundred favorites and slept with eight hundred concubines by the time of his death,” Tayatzin explained. “Since each of them possesses their own room and servants, demoting them all at once would leave entire wings of the palace unattended and cause a large disruption in the palace’s organization.”

I thoughtfully considered the proposal. The possibility of causing chaos across the imperial bureaucracy, no matter how trivial, appealed to me. I, however, failed to see how that particular disruption would help me achieve my goals.

Tayatzin’s plan offered more opportunities. If they had a speck of sense, my predecessor’s favorites and concubines surely used their time to amass power and favors as Sigrun once did. The threat of losing their positions would force them to show their hands. They would no doubt sacrifice much in order to avoid a humiliating demotion.

With the void left by Sigrun’s demise, Necahual could become my gatekeeper: by guaranteeing a woman's access to my bed and thus the rank of concubine, she could leverage that power for favors and information. Naming those indebted women my favorites, a title that I could revoke at any time, would provide another incentive for loyalty.

“Very well, I accept your suggestion,” I decided. “I wish to raise my pet slave Necahual to the rank of favorite. The others will be demoted to concubines, and if they do not please me by the first day of Wind, they shall fall further down.”

Tayatzin promptly bowed before me. He seemed happy that I had followed his proposal. “I shall promptly proceed with the reform then. If I may, what are Your Majesty’s tastes in women? We can select those who fit them the best and avoid wasting your precious time.”

I wanted women with spy networks or skills to spare, but I was wise enough not to say it out loud.

“I shall consider your question while resting on my favorite’s bosom,” I replied instead. “Once I am finished taking my pleasure, you shall summon the wife of that traitor Tlazohtzin to my quarters. I shall interrogate her myself.”

“As Your Majesty demands.” Tayatzin smirked as he saluted me. “She is quite the beauty. I am certain Your Majesty will find her agreeable.”

I remained quiet as he slithered out of the bedroom and left me alone with my guards. Once he was gone, I briefly wove a subtle Veil around myself to gather how many people watched me. I sensed over a dozen gazes pointed at me from all directions. My quarters’ secret passages overflowed with spies and secret jailers.

I considered my other options. I couldn’t risk using Spiritual Manifestation now. The Riding spell would let me possess beasts from my menagerie, but their current imprisonment underground would prove an obstacle in exploring the palace. This left me with Seidr. Mother said the spell’s users could gain visions of the past and future.

I could use it to gather information… with the right partner.

The noise of my bedroom doors opening drew me out of my thoughts. Necahual walked in, her slim frame dressed in the same rich clothes as when she last shared my bed. A golden necklace adorned her neck, the ruby at its center shining with a dark red glow.

“You called me?” she asked me with a cool, impenetrable expression; as if I had come back from a promenade in the gardens rather than surviving a cataclysmic eruption. I wondered if she had hoped I would perish in it alongside the Nightlords.

“That necklace looks good on you,” I noted. She gave me a dark look. Clearly, she would rather do without my compliments. “Who gave it to you?”

“A woman,” she replied with a dismissive snort. “It was a gift.”

Necahual hardly spent a night in my bed and ambitious souls already flocked to her. Good. I moved closer to her and briefly checked on the necklace with a Veiled Gaze. I did not detect any trace of magic on it. This gift was a simple, precious bribe.

My hands closed around Necahual’s waist. She trembled at my touch and clearly did not relish it, but did not recoil either. She had come to accept her situation. I felt a pang of compassion, enough to try to console her.

“Eztli is alive,” I whispered in her ear. Though I doubted the word meant much for a vampire. “She survived.”

“I know,” Necahual replied calmly.

That drew a frown from me. “How?”

“Her maid told me she was confined to the palace’s temple.” Necahual’s fingers intertwined with mine, the tension in them showing how much she worried for her daughter’s sake. “She… she thought I should know.”

Of course. The harem’s concubines served those of higher ranks, my consorts included. I folded that information into a corner of my mind. It would surely come in handy soon.

“Is she alright?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Yes.” Necahual bit her lower lip. A flash of worry passed in her eyes. “The priests are examining her. I do not know for what.”

A wave of relief traveled through my body. I had feared that the Jaguar Woman would put Eztli through torture in order to discover the reason for her survival. My captors had chosen caution over cruelty.

I felt much lighter. I knew Eztli remained in danger, but we could avoid the worst outcome.

“Your cheeks…” Necahual studied my face with a trained healer’s eyes. “You were wounded.”

Being reminded of Iztacoatl’s cruelty soured my heart with anger. I thought back to her promises of breaking me, of opening my heart and filling it with servile adoration. She was welcome to try. She would find nothing but spite there.

I briefly considered what to do. I planned to practice Seidr in order to learn more about Eztli’s location, but now that I have learned it I should explore another lead tonight. Learning more about the late Yoloxochitl’s weapon appeared like a priority.

I would need Necahual’s mind to focus on the task… and I knew exactly how.

“Keep that truth for yourself,” I whispered in Necahual’s ear, too low for anyone to hear. “Yoloxochitl is dead.”

I was so close that I could hear her heart skipping a beat. My mother-in-law stared at me in shock and disbelief, searching for any hint of a lie. She might have caressed that hope deep inside her shriveled heart, but to hear of her tormentor’s death… her mind struggled to accept what her ears told her.

“Are you certain?” she whispered, her eyes wide with astonishment.

I nodded with confidence and a lightened heart. “I saw it myself.”

Necahual pondered my words for a moment. She had lived in the Nightlords’ shadows for her entire life. She had learned to worship them at school, grown to fear their wrath during the nights of the Scarlet Moon, and suffered from their cruelty. She had been told of their invincibility for years, that they would haunt the world until its final twilight, until she believed in the lies. Barely avoiding her death at their hands had only reinforced that fear.

Necahual thought we might somehow escape them, but now she realized that I had done the impossible.

That I had killed a goddess. She knew that I had somehow caused Yoloxochitl’s demise and the disaster outside these walls. That all of Yohuachanca was built on lies, and that I had made the first crack in its foundations.

I had upturned Necahual’s entire vision of the world.

And she liked it.

I had seen Necahual smile a few times, whether at Eztli or her husband. Never at me though. Never before today. Not this way, with such glee and blissful satisfaction. Her bitter scowl turned into the purest expression of cruel delight. The news of Yoloxochitl’s demise, that she had outlived her daughter’s tormentor, filled her with the darkest delight.

For a brief instant, I saw what Guatemoc found charming about the vile woman. Her smile was the most beautiful in the world. I must have looked exactly like this after I blew up Smoke Mountain.

The sight reinvigorated me. I forgot all about Iztacoatl’s threats and warnings. For all of her barking, I had defied her, shattered her sisterhood, and defiled her glory with defeat. I would not wallow in fear and despair. I would celebrate and seize the day.

---- NSFW Scene starts-----

Overwhelmed with desire, I grabbed Necahual and started kissing her neck. She did not resist me nor did she stay idle as I touched her. To my surprise, she assisted me. One of her hands plunged under my imperial robes to massage my manhood and the other brushed against my hair. She pressed her face into the crook of my neck, her lips tasting me, sampling me.

She was as excited as her daughter had been yesterday.

This time, I was welcomed.

My blood boiled with excitement. What greater joy was there than committing a crime against the Nightlords and being rewarded for it?

My hands swiftly unfurled her sash and opened a path to her breasts. She did the same with the clothes over my chest. She stared at me, and for that night at least I knew that she would be all mine. Her lips crashed against mine while my hands fondled her breasts.

Her skin felt different than last time: healthier, smoother, younger. I blamed this on our practice of Seidr. The same process that allowed Sigrun to keep her beauty had granted Necahual a few years of youth.

I felt my magic awaken in my blood as one of my hands roamed down her back and to her soft ass. The call of Bonecrafting, the urge to reshape her legs and body like a clay doll in a way that would please me most. I basked in that feeling of power. That she was here to service me, to reward me, to please me. I resisted the urge to use a spell on her, but I quickly disrobed her all the same. My own clothes slipped onto the ground soon after.

Necahual gasped in shock as I all but threw her on the bed, stomach first. One of my hands pressed on her back, the other grabbing her lady parts and lifting her up slightly. I leaned on against her back.

“Kneel,” I whispered into her ear before lightly nibbling it. Necahual looked over her shoulder at me, but she arched her back nonetheless. My hands grabbed her hips, seizing her, owning her. I delighted in her groan as I slid my manhood inside her. She was warm, wet, and willing.

I took her violently. I pounded and slammed and thrust. While at first taken aback, Necahual soon started pushing back. She moaned and convulsed beneath me, her necklace bouncing off her breast. We were no better than animals.

I pinned her down to the bed and then resumed, one of my hands holding her hip and the other fondling her breast. I sensed her flesh constrict and unfold around mine. What pleasure it was, to see the woman who had abused me for years now kneeling before me. At long last I felt our Teyolias connecting through our mutual triumph.

I focused on our mutual desire. I sensed the call of sorcery flooding my mind. A blurry image of Yoloxochitl crying in her dark father’s hand formed in my mind, vivid and raw.

No… No, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the vision I sought. I let go of the memory, but it wouldn’t leave me. Worse, it grew sharper with each pulse of our Teyolias.

“Think of her,” I whispered in Necahual’s ear. “Think of the weapon.”

“What?” she replied in between moans. “I don’t… I don’t understand…”

The vision grew blurrier. Yoloxochitl’s face became almost unrecognizable and the Teyolia connection weakened.

“Yoloxochitl,” I answered with a grunt of displeasure. “Think of her weapon. Her weapon.”

New images flashed in my mind, of Yoloxochitl holding an obsidian knife over a prisoner’s heart.

I quickly grasped Seidr’s limits: namely, both partners needed to work in unison. If Necahual and I failed to focus on the same thing, the vision would wander like an arrow without its target. Our clashing ideas of a secret weapon did not align.

I pulled out before the vision could solidify, much to Necahual’s chagrin. Our Teyolias lost their connection. I lay my mother-in-law down her back, widened her legs, and then loomed over her.

“Yoloxochitl, secret weapon, Sapa,” I grunted into her ear, almost imperiously. “All… think of them all.”

Necahual sent me a brief glare, but she did obey. She closed her eyes and focused on my words. Our Teyolias connected again as she welcomed my manhood with waiting lips and muffled moans. I kissed the sweat of her brow as I entered her again. Her breasts bounced with our thrusts, her necklace’s cold metal pressing on my chest.

We found a steady rhythm and touched the soul of sorcery. Her arms closed around my neck with the final pulse. My vision went white.

---- NSFW Scene Ends-----

Then I saw Yoloxochitl.

The vision struck me like a bucket of cold water drawing me out of the throws of passion. My body was no longer my own, my flesh and bones were both gone. I was the putrid air flowing through a dark garden of shining fungi and fetid corpses. I was the ancient walls paved with spores and tasting the blood of the dead. I was the darkness of the cave and the moan of the damned.

Unlike our last Seidr ritual, I immediately knew that this vision was no shared memory. I did not see a scene through Necahual’s eyes, no. I had become the world itself, a disembodied spirit of stone and evanescent air, beyond the prison of the self.

I watched Yoloxochitl’s mad smile from above and below, sensed her seat on a throne of rock amidst the fungi, and smelled the stench of death following her. A naked man convulsed at her feet, struggling not to inhale the red spores floating in the air. I felt the poison enter his lungs and blood.

“Don’t fight it,” she said, so softly, so kindly. “Let the love flow through you.”

The man was dead long before he entered her secret garden, but he likely wished for a quicker demise. I sensed the heat creeping up his spine, the sweat of the fever seizing his mind. Something vile had taken hold of him. It spread through his flesh in hours, or maybe days, driving him to pain and madness. Time meant nothing to a stone, and little to a Nightlord.

Yoloxochitl nursed the man through his agony. She held him in her cold arms as his skin took on an ashen pallor and his veins turned green. She helped him back up when he stumbled.

“Be brave, my child,” she said; not to her victim, but to the horror crawling inside his flesh. “You are home.”

The poison wove its tendrils inside its host, nesting between muscle and bone. The man tried to scream. He failed. His mouth would open no longer. Green growths had stitched his lips close. His blood coalesced into sacks of thickened blood growing out of his stomach.

Strings moved his weakened body against his will. A single urge possessed the puppeteer: to climb. To rise. To find a place high above, so the wind would carry its love to the disparate fleshes of the land.

The walking corpse searched the cave with a feverish obsession for an elevated post. At last, Yoloxochitl climbed down from her throne and gently raised her child to it.

The corpse ascended to the top and coiled around the stone. His calcified skin thickened into a sick white bark stronger than bones, whereas his stomach yielded a bounty of spoiled blood fruits. His skull blossomed. Crimson petals burst out of his teeth. The man’s head had become a flower of terrible beauty, a crown of red petals on a dead tree of hardened flesh. Its breath of red spores erupted like Smoke Mountain in search of a new home.

Yoloxochitl shed a tear of joy and I woke up.

I returned to reality with a sweet, euphoric feeling of emptiness. Necahual breathed softly under me, her body coiled around mine, my seed dripping down her thighs.

That brief moment of contentment lasted until we both remembered the vision. I could see the color drain from Necahual’s cheeks, the horror crawling into her soul, her rising disgust. Her mind struggled to accept that such unnatural abominations could exist in this world.

I envied her. I was used to the Nightlords’ horrors by now. I missed those times when such atrocities seemed like a rare exception rather than a daily norm.

Necahual lightly pushed my chest back and I pulled out of her. We moved to the baths next, both to clear our minds and discuss things more privately. The sickening vision of that man-tree haunted me even as I sank into the warm running waters.

“That will spoil the food.” So Iztacoatl said when her sister first suggested using her weapon. Now I understood. Even a vampire might recoil from tasting those sick stomach-fruits. Yoloxochitl said it would cull the weak and spare the strong.

I supposed she hadn’t completely lied. The healthy and the well-fed survived plagues better than the weak and the malnourished.

Necahual let the water run to cover our words, then joined me in the bath. I beckoned her to come closer. After a short moment of hesitation, she sat on my lap, her back against my chest, a deep scowl on her face.

“You have seen it too,” I told Necahual, which she confirmed with a short nod. “That’s Yoloxochitl’s legacy. A plague of death.”

“Not a plague,” she replied much to my surprise. “A fungus.”

“Fungus?” I guessed it made sense considering where Yoloxochitl cultivated them, but I remained dubious. “It looked more like a flower to me.”

“A fungus,” Necahual insisted, her tone laced with scorn. She disliked me doubting her experience. “I have seen their kind in the forests where I gathered my herbs. They take over bugs, sicken their minds, and consume them from within. The hosts climb to elevated places, then they spread the infection to its colony.”

The Sapa’s mountains would make for a fertile spreading ground. “Is there any cure?”

Necahual hesitated a moment, before answering with, “Fire. Heat.”

Somehow, I doubted the Sapa would settle on burning their sick compatriots. That disease alone would ravage their settlements. Those who survived the disease would then end their lives on Yohuachanca’s altars.

“I need to destroy that garden,” I said with cold resolve. I would wipe out the last stain of Yoloxochitl’s legacy from this world, and I had to do it before the war against the Sapa started. “If it’s the only one.”

“It will be in a single place underground,” Necahual said sharply. “That corruption would kill thousands if it escaped. More gardens mean a greater risk of accidental contagion.”

True. The Nightlords were mad, but not stupid. They wouldn’t risk unleashing such a devastating plague on their own population.

But where could Yoloxochitl have cultivated that garden? Under the palace? The Blood Pyramid? Another location entirely? The Seidr vision didn’t give a hint and Yohuachanca was a vast empire. I might as well search for a grain of sand on a beachhead.

My predecessors could provide leads if I found a way to contact them, but even then they didn’t know about Yoloxochitl’s weapon until I informed them of it. I would require a wider net to catch that fish.

“I will need your assistance,” I whispered in Necahual’s ear, my arms closing around her waist.

“Don’t touch me like this,” she hissed, her jaw tightening. “I hate it.”

“You liked it a few minutes ago,” I replied before kissing her on the neck. From her whimper, she still liked it now. In fact, I suspected that she hated my touch because she liked it. “It earned you a pretty necklace too.”

Necahual spat in the bath. “As if I could be bought with gold.”

“Whether with gold or information, you need to show them you can be bought, or else no one will approach you,” I said with a snort. I always knew that she would make for a poor merchant. “And if you want us to leave this place alive with Eztli one day, you better become used to my touch. You are my favorite now. You will need to act the part.”

She looked over her shoulder and glared at me. “What do you want?”

“Information,” I replied. “Lessons on the human body and its bones.”

“Its bones?”

“You will understand soon enough.” Once I can bonecraft with fewer eyes on us. “I also need information on Eztli, my other consorts, and on Yoloxochitl. Someone must have an inkling to where she cultivated her plague, or know someone who could provide its location. You must find them for me.”

Necahual squinted at me. “Nothing comes cheap, and I have little to offer.”

“You are wrong. You can offer them access to me.” My hand traveled up her soft neckline. “You shall tell me which of Eztli’s maids informed you and who offered you the necklace. I shall invite them both to…” I struggled to find the right word. “Entertain me.”

Concubines were still expected to work for the emperor and consorts, so sleeping with Eztli’s maids wouldn’t lose us that connection. I might not even need to go that far. The mere possibility of sharing my bed in the future could probably suffice.

“This ought to convince everyone in the harem that you can raise their meager station,” I explained to Necahual. “After which, you will start asking questions about Yoloxochitl.”

“No one will wonder why,” Necahual said. She had caught on quickly. “They will believe that I seek to protect myself from her wrath.”

“The desperate and the ambitious will flock to you next. You shall offer them a path to salvation, for a price.”

We would use the Nightlords’ own tools to destroy their work. Iztacoatl had been right on one front. I was a serpent biding its time.

And soon, I would bite.