Naamah's Blessing

they have made bargains with other people, tribes we have conquered, who would be pleased to see this empire fall. Foolish people, who think the men of Aragonia would keep their bargains.”
    Once again, I held my tongue, grateful that I’d learned a measure of discretion.
    And once again, he knew. “You do not wish to speak against them,” he observed. “That may be wise. But I know what they wish. If they could defeat us and rule over this empire, they would.” Heshrugged. “I know what they say. They think their Nahautl servants are too stupid to learn their tongue, and we have let them think it. They speak freely before their servants. They think we are little better than animals.”
    “I do not think that,” I said.
    “No.” Achcuatli considered me. “You are different. And yet Cuixtli tells me the sight of the
tzompantli
sickened you.”
    “Yes.” I didn’t need to know the word to guess it referred to the rack of skulls. And while I didn’t want to give offense, I thought it best not to lie when doing Naamah’s business. “It did.”
    The Emperor drained his goblet. “Come,” he said. “I wish to show you something.”
    Obediently, I rose to accompany him. Attendants hastened to brush the ground before our path. Achcuatli dismissed them from the task with mild irritation. I noted that he’d exchanged his gold-soled sandals for more practical plain ones, and thought that the Nahuatl Emperor also knew a good deal about the value of appearances.
    Followed by a discreet throng of attendants and guards, we exited the palace into an extensive pleasure garden, one so vast and ornate it made me catch my breath. There were oak trees, cypresses, and palms, and others I could not identify with thick barrels and wide, spreading leaves. There were countless flowers in a riot of color. All of them were healthy and vibrant, reaching exuberantly toward the sun. I breathed the Breath of Trees Growing, drinking in the green scent of the place.
    Achcuatli led me toward a large structure. At a distance, I thought it a gazebo of sorts, but as we drew nearer, I saw that it was an aviary built of wood and wicker, filled with growing trees. There must have been a hundred birds inside it. I hadn’t seen such brilliant plumage since leaving Bhodistan.
    “See there?” He pointed to a bird with emerald-green feathers and a ruby breast. It perched on a branch, regarding us with big round eyes. Splendid green plumes as long as my forearm trailed from its tail. “That is the
quetzal
. It is a sacred bird.”
    I glanced at Achcuatli’s headdress, recognizing the plumes, and lifted one hand involuntarily to touch the feathers on my own.
    “Yes,” he said as though in answer to an unasked question. “It is an honor to wear them.”
    “You are kind.”
    Achcuatli touched my cheek, a feather-light touch. Even so, I felt a spark of desire leap between us. It was the first time he had touched me. “I would have the world know that the Nahuatl know how to honor a woman.”
    “I will tell them,” I said.
    His black eyes glinted. “Good.”
    When he withdrew his hand, I felt a pang of loss; and at the same time, a pang of guilt, thinking of Bao. But Naamah’s gift enfolded me, assuring me that I was doing her will. I put my guilt aside. Later, there would be time to confront it.
    As if the aviary wasn’t impressive enough, there was a bestiary, too. Upon visiting it, Achcuatli stood for a long time before a cage that contained a pair of immense spotted cats that paced back and forth, lashing their tails. Now I knew where Temilotzin’s hides came from. Brushing their thoughts, I felt a mixture of boredom and frustration.
    “Some days I feel like them,” Achcuatli said at length. “Trapped in a cage I did not make.”
    “So free them,” I murmured.
    He shook his head. “It would be a terrible omen.”
    I wondered at the Emperor speaking so freely to me; but then, betimes it was easier to confide in a stranger. And I was a foreigner. I would not think less of him for revealing he did not possess a stone face and a stone heart. Indeed, quite the opposite.
    We left the bestiary to stroll the garden. As odd as the situation was, I couldn’t help but take pleasure in the lush greenery. Achcuatli paused before a bed of vivid dahlias, stroking their intricate petals with one finger.
    “Greet the sky and live, blossom!” he said unexpectedly. “Yet even as the wind stirs your petals, flowers fall. My flowers are