Haunted serialkillers.Teenage riots.Zombie detectives.The evil dead.The Robot Armyis on the rise.angryrobotbooks.comSERVANT OF THE UNDERWORLDAn Aztec priest of the dead tries to solve amurder mystery, and finds that politics maybe even more powerful than magic. A vividportrayal of an interesting culture in a trulyfresh fantasy novel. Kevin J AndersonAmid the mud and maize of the Mexicaempire, Aliette de Bodard has composed ariveting story of murder, magic, and siblingrivalry. Elizabeth BearAn amazingly fresh and engaging new voicein fantasy: the shadows of the Aztecunderworld drip from these pages. Tobias BuckellA gripping mystery steeped in blood andancient Aztec magic. I was enthralled. Sean Williamsan excerpt fromSERVANT OF THE UNDERWORLD(Obsidian & Blood vol.I)Aliette de BodardTo be published January 2010 (UK/Australia)and September 2010 (North America) byAngry Robot, in mass-market paperback,eBook and downloadableaudio formats.ISBN: 978 0 00 734654 7Angry Robot is a division ofHarperCollinsPublishers77-85 Fulham Palace Road,London W6 8JB UKangryrobotbooks.comCopyright Aliette de Bodard 2010All rights reserved. However, feel free toshare this sample chapter with anyoneyou wish. And if you like this, go andbuy Aliettes book. And if you really likethat, tell your friendsIn the silence of the shrine, I bowed to the corpse onthe altar: a minor member of the Imperial Family, whohad died in a boating accident on Lake Texcoco. Mypriests had bandaged the gaping wound on his fore-head and smoothed the wrinkled skin as best as theycould;theyhaddressedhimwithscrapsofmany-coloured cotton and threaded a jade bead through hislips preparing him for the long journey ahead. AsHigh Priest for the Dead, it was now my responsibilityto ease his passage into Mictlan, the underworld.I slashed my earlobes and drew thorns through thewounds, collecting the dripping blood in a bowl, andstarted a litany for the Dead:The river ows northwardThe mountains crush, the mountains bindGrey light suffused the shrine, the pillars and thewalls fading away to reveal a much larger place, a cav-ern where everything found its end. The adobe oorglimmeredasifunderwater.Andshadowstrailed,darkening the painted frescoes on the walls singingONEOddSummoni ngs5a wordless lament, a song that twisted in my guts likea knife-stab. The underworld.Obsidian shards are driven into your hands, into yourfeet,Obsidian to tear, to rendYou must endure thThe copper bells sewn on the entrance-curtain tin-kled as someone drew it aside, and hurried footstepsechoed under the roof of the shrine. Acatl-tzin! Ich-taca called.Startled,Istoppedchantingandinstinctivelyreached up, to quench the ow of blood from my ear-lobesbeforetheatmosphereofMictlancouldoverwhelm the shrine. With the disappearance of thelivingblood,thespellwasbroken,andtheworldsprang into sudden, painful focus.I turned, then, not hiding my anger. A broken spellwouldhaveleftalinktoMictlanamiasmathatwould only grow thicker as time passed, darkening theshrine, the pyramid it sat upon, and the entire templecomplex until the place became unusable. I hope youhave a good reasonIchtaca, the Fire Priest of the temple and my sec-ond-in-command, stood on the threshold his ngersclenched on the conch-shell around his neck. I apol-ogise for interrupting you, Acatl-tzin, but he was mostinsistent.He?The curtain twisted aside, and someone walked intothe shrine: Yaotl. My heart sank. Yaotl never came forgood news.6 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDI apologise, Yaotl said, with a curt nod of his headtowards the altar, though clearly he meant none of it.Yaotl answered only to his mistress, Ceyaxochitl; andshe in turn, as Guardian of the Sacred Precinct andkeeper of the invisible boundaries, answered only toRevered Speaker Ayaxacatl, the ruler of the MexicaEmpire. But we need you.Again? Even though I was High Priest for the Dead,itseemedthatCeyaxochitlstillconsideredmelittlebetter than a slave, to be summoned whenever shewanted. What is it this time?Yaotls scarred face twisted in what might have beena smile. Its bad.Hmm, I said. I should have known better than toask him about the nature of the emergency. Yaotl en-joyed keeping me in ignorance, probably as a way tocompensate for his station as a slave. I snatched up mygrey cotton cloak from the stone oor and wrapped itaround my shoulders. Im coming. Ichtaca, can youtake over for me?Yaotl waited for me outside the shrine, on the platformof the pyramid temple, his embroidered cloak utter-inginthebreeze.Wedescendedthestairsofthepyramid side by side, in silence. Beneath us, moon-light shone on the temple complex, a series of squatadobe buildings stretching around a courtyard. Evenat this hour, priests for the Dead were awake, sayingvigils, conducting examinations of the recently dead,and propitiating the rulers of the underworld: Mict-lantecuhtliandhiswife,Mictecacihuatl,LordandLady Death.FurtheronwasthevastexpanseoftheSacredSERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 7Precinct: the mass of temples, shrines and penitentialpalaces that formed the religious heart of the MexicaEmpire. And, still further, the houses and fields andcanals of the island-city of Tenochtitlan, thousandsofsmalllightsburningawayunderthestarsandmoon.We walked from the bottom of the steps to the gatesof my temple, and then onto the plaza of the SacredPrecinct. At this hour of the night, it was blessedly freeof the crowds that congregated in the day, of all thesouls eager to earn the favours of the gods. Only a fewoffering priests were still abroad, singing hymns; anda few, younger novice priests, completing their nightlyrun around the Precincts Serpent Wall. The air waswarmandheavy,apresageoftherainsandofthemaize harvest to come.To my surprise, Yaotl did not lead me to the ImperialPalace. Id expected this mysterious summons to beabout noblemen. The last time Ceyaxochitl had askedfor me in the middle of the night, it had been for aparty of drunk administrators who had managed tosummon a beast of the shadows from Mictlan. Wedspent a night tracking down the monster before killingit with obsidian knives.Yaotl walked purposefully on the empty plaza, pastthemaintemplecomplexesandthehousesofelitewarriors. I had thought that we were going to the tem-ple of Toci, Grandmother Earth, but Yaotl bypassed itcompletely, and led me to a building in its shadow:something neither as tall nor as grand as the pyramidshrines, a subdued, sprawling affair of rooms openingon linked courtyards, adorned with frescoes of godsand goddesses.8 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDThe girls calmecac: the House of Tears, a school wherethe children of the wealthy, as well as those vowed tothe priesthood, would receive their education. I hadnever been there; the clergy of Mictlantecuhtli was ex-clusively male, and I had trouble enough with our ownstudents.Icouldntimagine,though,whatkindofmagical offences untrained girls would commit.Are you sure? I asked Yaotl but, characteristically,he walked into the building without answering me.Isuppressedasighandfollowedhim,bowingslightly to the priestess in feather regalia who kept vigilat the entrance.Inside, all was quiet, but it was the heavy calm be-fore the rains. As I crossed courtyard after courtyard,Imetthedisapprovingglancesofseniorofferingpriestesses, and the curious gazes of young girls whostood on the threshold of their ground-oor dormi-tories.Yaotl led me to a courtyard near the centre of thebuilding. Two rooms with pillared entrances openedon this. He went towards the leftmost one and, pullingaside the curtain, motioned me into a wide room.It seemed an ordinary place, a room like any otherin the city: an entrance curtain set with bells, gentlytinklingintheeveningbreeze,wallsadornedwithfrescoesofgodsand,inthecentre,asimplereedsleeping mat framed by two wooden chests. Copal in-cense burnt in a clay brazier, bathing the room in asoft, fragrant light that stung my eyes. And everything,from the chests to the mat, reeked of magic: a pun-gent,acridsmellthatclungtothewallsandtothebeaten-earth oor like a miasma.Thatwasntnatural.Eveninthecalmecac,thereSERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 9were strictures on the use of the living blood, restric-tions on the casting of spells. Furthermore this lookedliketheprivateroomofapriestess,notateachingroom for adolescent girls.What happened I started, turning to Yaotl.But he was already halfway through the door. Stayhere.IlltellMistressCeyaxochitlyouvearrived,Acatl-tzin.Inhismouth,eventhetzinhonoricsounded doubtful.Wait!Isaid,butallthatansweredmewasthesound of bells from the open door. I stood alone in thatroom, with no idea of why I was there at all.Tlalocs lightning strike Yaotl.I looked again at the room, wondering what I couldguess of the circumstances that had brought me here.It looked like a typical priestesss room: few adorn-ments, the same rough sleeping mat and crude wickerchests found in any peasants house. Only the frescoesborewitnesstothewealthofthecalmecacschool,their colours vibrant in the soft light, every feature ofthe gods sharply delineated. The paintings representedXochipilli, God of Youth and Games, and His Consort,Xochiquetzal, Goddess of Lust and Childbirth. Theydanced in a wide garden, in the midst of owers. TheFlower Prince held a rattle, His Consort a necklace ofpoinsettias as red as a sacrices blood.Dark stains marred the faces of both gods. No, notonly the faces, every part of Their apparel from Theirfeathered headdresses to Their clawed hands. Care-fully,Iscrapedoffoneofthestainsandrubbeditbetween my ngers. Blood.Dried blood. I stared at the oor again at what Ihad taken for dark earth in the dim light of the brazier.10 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDThe stain was huge spreading over the whole room,soakingtheearthsothoroughlyithadchangeditscolour. Id attended enough sacrices and examina-tionstoknowtheamountofbloodinthehumanbody, and I suspected that the stain represented morethan half of that. What in the Fifth World had hap-pened here?Istoodinthecentreoftheroomandclosedmyeyes.Carefully,Iextendedmypriest-sensesandprobed at the magic, trying to see its nature. Under-world magic, yet no, not quite. It was human, andit had been summoned in anger, in rage, an emotionthatstillhungintheroomlikeapall.Butitdidnthave the sickly, spread-out feeling of most underworldmagic. Not a beast of shadows, then.Nahual.Ithadtobenahualmagic:aprotectivejaguar spirit summoned in the room. Judging by theamountofbloodinthevicinity,ithaddonemuchdamage. Who, or what, had been wounded here?I had been remiss in not taking any supplies beforeleaving my temple trusting Yaotl to provide what Ineeded,whichwasalwaysamistakewiththewilyslave. I had no animal sacrices, nothing to practisethe magic of living blood.No, not quite. I did have one source of living blood:my own body. With only my blood, I might not be ableto perform a powerful spell; but there was a way toknow whether someone had died in this room. Deathopened a gate into Mictlan, the underworld, and thememory of that gate would still be in the room. Ac-cessingitwouldntbeapleasantexperience,butHuitzilpochtli, the Southern Hummingbird, blind meif I let Ceyaxochitl manipulate me once more.SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 11I withdrew one of the obsidian blades that I alwayscarried in my belt, and nicked my right earlobe withit.IddoneitsooftenthatIbarelyflinchedatthepainthatspreadupwards,throughmyear.Blooddripped, slowly, steadily, onto the blade each drop,pulsingontherhythmofmyheartbeat,sendingasmall shock through the hilt when it connected withthe obsidian.Ibroughtthetipoftheknifeincontactwithmyown hand, and carefully drew the shape of a humanskull. As I did so, I sang a litany to my patron Mict-lantecuhtli, God of the Dead:Like the feathers of a precious birdThat precious bird with the emerald tailWe all come to an endLike a owerWe dry up, we witherA cold wind blew across the room, lifting the en-trance-curtain the tinkle of the bells was mufed, asif coming from far away, and the walls of the roomslowlyreceded,revealingonlydarknessbutodd,misshapen shadows slid in and out of my eld of vi-sion, waiting for their chance to leap, to tear, to feaston my beating heart.We reach the land of the eshlessWhere jade turns to dustWhere feathers crumble into ashWhere our owers, our songs are forever extinguishedWhere all the tears rain downA crack shimmered into existence, in the centre of12 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDthe chamber: the entrance to a deep cavern, a cenote,atthebottomofwhichdark,brackishwatershim-meredincoldmoonlight.Dry,wizenedsilhouettessplashedthroughthelakethesoulsoftheDead,growing smaller and smaller the farther they went,likechildrensdiscardedtoys.Theysangastheywalked: cold whispers, threads of sound which curledaround me, clinging to my naked skin like snakes. Icould barely make out the words, but surely, if I stayedlonger If I bent over the cenote until I could see the bottomof the waterIf INo. I wasnt that kind of fool.Withtheeaseofpractise,Ipassedtheatoftheknife across the palm of my other hand focusing onnothingbutthemovementofthebladeuntiltheimage of the skull was completely erased.When I raised my eyes again, the crack had closed.Thewallswereback,withthevivid,reassuringcolours of the frescoes; and the song of the Dead hadfaded into the whistle of the wind through the treesof the courtyard outside.I stood, for a while, breathing hard it never gotanyeasiertodealwiththeunderworld,nomatterhow used to it you became. StillI had seen the bottom of the cenote, and the Deadmaking their slow way to the throne of Lord Death. Ihad not, however, made out the words of their song.The gate to Mictlan had been widening, but not yetcompletely open. That meant someone in this roomhad been gravely wounded, but they were still alive.No, that was too hasty. Whoever had been woundedSERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 13in this room hadnt died within yet I didnt think theydhave survived for long, unless theyd found a healer.Ah, Acatl, Ceyaxochitl said, behind me. That wasfast.I turned much faster than Id have liked. With thememoryofMictlanstouchonmyskin,anynoisefrom the human world sounded jarringly out of place.Ceyaxochitl stood limned in the entrance, leaningon her wooden cane. She was wearing a headdress ofblue feathers that spread like a fan over her forehead,and a dress embroidered with the fused-lovers insigniaof the Duality. Her face was smooth, expressionless, asit always was.Id tensed, even though she had barely spoken tome, preparing for another verbal sparring. Ceyaxochitlhad a habit of moving people like pawns in a game ofpatolli, deciding what she thought was in their best in-terests without preoccupying herself much with theiropinions, and I seldom enjoyed being the target of herattentions.Idontparticularlyappreciatebeingsummonedlike this, I started to say, but she shook her head, ob-viously amused.You were awake, Acatl. I know you.Yes,sheknewme,alltoowell.Afterall,wehadworked together for roughly nine years, the greater partof my adult life. She had been the one to campaign atthe Imperial Court for my nomination as High Priest forthe Dead, a position I neither wanted nor felt comfort-able with another of her interferences in my life. Wedmade a kind of uneasy peace over the matter in the lastfew months, but right now she was going too far.All right, I said. I brushed off the dried blood on14 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDmy ngers, and watched her hobble into the room.Now that Im here, can we dispense with the formal-ities? Who was wounded here, Ceyaxochitl?Shepausedforamoment,thoughshebarelyshowed any surprises. Hard at work, I see.I do what I can.Yes. She watched the frescoes with a distractedgaze. What do you think happened here?IranmyngersoverthetracesoftheskullIddrawn on the back of my hand, feeling Mictlans touchcling to me like damp cloth. A nahual spirit. An angryone.And? she asked.It was late, and someone was in mortal danger, andI was tired, and no longer of an age to play her gamesofwhowasmasteroverwhom.Someonewaswounded at Mictlans gates, but has not yet gonethrough. What do you want to hear?Thenahualmagic,Ceyaxochitlsaidquietly.Imainly wanted your conrmation on that.You have it. I wasnt in the mood to quarrel withher. In any case, she was my superior, both in yearsand in magical mastery. Do I get an explanation?She sighed; but she still didnt look at me. Some-thingwaswrong:thiswasnotherusual,harmlessgames, but something deeper and darker. Ceyaxo-chitl I said, slowly.ThisistheroomofEleuia,offeringpriestessofXochiquetzal, Ceyaxochitl said. Her gaze was xed,unwaveringly, on the hollow eyes of the goddess inthe frescoes. Most likely candidate to become Consortof Xochipilli.ThehighestrankforapriestessoftheQuetzalSERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 15Flower. And she was attacked? What was Ceyaxo-chitl not telling me?Yes.I stared at the blood on the frescoes felt the angerroiling in the room. A nahual spirit would have hadclaws sharp enough to cut bone, and even a trainedwarriorwouldhavehadtroubledefendinghimselfagainst it.Did you nd her? I asked. She needs a healer, atthe last if not a priest of Patecatl. There were healingspells meagre, expensive things that the priests of theGodofMedicinejealouslyhoarded.Butapriestesssuch as Eleuia would surely have a right to them.Ive had my warriors search every dormitory. Wedont know where Priestess Eleuia is. No one has beenable to nd her, or to nd her trail. She is the only onemissing in the whole calmecac, though.My heart sank. If it had been a beast of shadowsthere were ways, and means, to track creatures of theunderworld. But a nahual There were too many ofthem in Tenochtitlan at any given time: any personbornonaJaguardaycouldsummontheirownnahual, though it would take years of dedicated prac-tise to call up something material enough to carry offa human, or even to wound.Icanattempttotrackit,Isaid,nally,eventhough I knew it was a futile exercise. Nahual magicwas weak to start with, and the coming of sunlightwould annihilate it. We had perhaps four hours beforedawn, but I doubted that would be enough.Ceyaxochitl appeared absorbed in contemplation ofthe brazier: a studied pose, it suddenly occurred to me.But I still dont see I started, with a growing hol-16 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDlow in my stomach.She turned, so abruptly I took a step backward. Iarrested your brother tonight, Acatl.Her words shattered my thoughts, yanking my mindfrom worries about Eleuia and the nahual to some-thing much closer to me and much more unpleasant.She had arrested my brother?Which one? I asked, but I knew the answer, justas I knew why shed asked about the nahual magic,andwhyshedwaitedformyconrmationbeforetellingmeanything.Onlyoneofmybrothershadbeen born on a Jaguar day.Neutemoc? You cant arrest him, I said slowly, butCeyaxochitl shook her head.He was in this room, covered in blood. And therewas magic all over him.Youre wrong, I said, because those were the onlywords that got past my lips. My brother isntAcatl. Her voice was gentle but rm. When thepriestesses arrived, he was searching the room, over-turning the wicker chests and even the brazier. AndIve never seen so much blood on someone, exceptperhaps the Revered Speaker after the Great Sacrices.Your brothers hands were slick with it.Inallydraggedmyvoicefromwhereverithaded. My brother isnt a killer.That made no sense, I thought, trying to close thehollowdeepeninginmystomach.Neutemocwasasuccessfulwarrior:amemberoftheeliteJaguarKnights, a son of peasants elevated into the nobilityafter his feats in the Tepeaca war. My parents had allbut worshipped him, back when they had both beenalive. He could do no wrong. He had always been theSERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 17precious, beloved child whereas I, of course, was lessthan nothing, a humble priest who had never had thecourage to seek wealth and honour on the battleeld.Of course he was a warrior. Of course hed know howto kill.But surely surely he wouldnt do such a thing?Im sure your brother can explain what he thoughthe was doing in her room. So far, he hasnt been help-ful. Ceyaxochitls voice was ice again. She disapprovedofNeutemocsarrogance,butIwasntsurewhy.Knowing my brother, hed have said the wrong thingsto her. The Duality knew it didnt take much to angerher these days.Itriedtothinkofsomethingtosay,butcouldntform any meaningful words.Ceyaxochitl tapped her cane against the clay of thebrazier, with a hollow sound. Youre the High Priestfor the Dead, in charge of the Sacred Precinct. A caselike this is your province, and mine.Guardian, and priest: a Guardian to wield the magicoftheDuality,andapriestthatoftheunderworld.Wed done it before; many, many times, both here andin the smaller town of Coyoacan. But this was differ-ent. I couldntNot Neutemoc. Duality, no. Wed parted ways fouryears ago, and the last thing I wanted was to see himagain. I had left him alone in his grand house with hissuccess, freeing him of the burden of my presence. Hisacts, in any case, had made it painfully clear that hemight not completely share my parents disapprovalof me; but that he would do nothing to change it, thathewouldnotevenspeakupinmydefencewhenMother was screaming at me from her death-bed. The18 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDhollow in my stomach wouldnt close.I should walk away. That was the sensible option.Leave him to face the magistrates on his own, as heno doubt wished. But if I did this if I ran away fromhim, at this moment then I would be no better thanhim. I would prove, once and for all, that Father andMother had been right: that I was a coward, unworthyof the battleeld.The Storm Lords lightning sear him! What had hebeen thinking of?Youwantustotaketheinvestigation,IsaidtoCeyaxochitl.She said nothing for a while. No, she said. Notquite.Ididntcallyouhereatnightformyownamusement, despite what you might think of me.You dont know what I think of you, I protested,which was not quite true. I was wary of whatever sheoffered, with good reason.Ceyaxochitl turned, slightly. Her face in the brazierswavering light was a statues: majestic, expressionless.Icouldhavedealtwiththisonmyown.Afterall,guilt has already been establishedIt hasnt, I protested a reex that surprised meby its vehemence.It has, Ceyaxochitl said. She banged her cane ontheoor;itsdeepsoundpunctuatedeachofherwords. Listen to the end, young man. As I said: I haveno need for you. Strictly speaking, nahual magic isntyour province, and it dissipates in daylight anyway.There has been no encroaching of the boundaries.No,Inallyadmitted.Asidefromsayingthedeath-rites, I maintained the boundaries: the fragilebalance between the underworld and the world of theSERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 19Fifth Sun. I dealt with the minor gods of Mictlan: theWind of Knives, the Owl Archer, the Faded Warrior.ButCeyaxochitlbangedhercaneascanthand-spanfrom my exposed foot. I inched. Be silent. I sum-moned you to do you a favour.As you did by pushing my name for promotion atthe Imperial Court? I thought, but bit my lip beforethe words could escape me.Ceyaxochitlsawme,allthesame,andsmiledgrimly. You might not think its much of a favour. Butthe fact is, Acatl, I have no time to investigate this asit should be investigated. Either I end it swiftly by con-demning your brother on scant evidence, or I leave itto you.No time? No time for my own brother after allId done for her? No time to nd a priestess who mightbe, if not dead, in mortal danger? Whats so impor-tant?Ceyaxochitl grimaced. Revered Speaker Axayacatl-tzin is ill. All the healers are by his bedside day andnight. As Guardian, my place is with them.That the Emperor was ill wasnt news. But, still, Ihad to ask. Do you think itsMagical?Sheshookherhead.No.Buthesaman, Acatl. He may be Huitzilpochtlis agent on earth,butevenagodspowersdontguardyouagainstwounds, or fatigue.And so that takes precedence, I said. Again, not asurprise. The Imperial Family always took precedenceover us: a bitter, but necessary thought.It has to, Ceyaxochitl said. The ght for his suc-cession has already started among the Council.20 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDThe Imperial succession wasnt my concern. Who-ever was elected Revered Speaker would still want thedeadtobehonoured,andthebalancetobemain-tainedbetweentheFifthWorld,theunderworldMictlan, and the Heavens. Neutemoc was the one Ineeded to focus on. So what youre telling meIs that you can investigate this matter, but, as I said,youll be on your own. Ill offer resources, but I cantdo more than that, or I risk my own position. Shedidnt sound thrilled by that consideration. But thenshe had always been independent, like me.You know I cant refuse, I said.Her gaze was sceptical. She knew exactly the stateof my relationship with my family, and the grievancesbetweenNeutemocandme.Iowednothingtomybrother nothing at all. I could just walk awayThere was a tight knot in my belly; a constriction inmy throat, as if I would vomit. I couldnt let Neutemocbe executed. I couldnt stand by and do nothing.Very well, I said. I crouched on my haunches inthe middle of the room, trying to forget the nausea inmy stomach. I assume youve sent search parties outinto the Sacred Precinct.Yes, Ceyaxochitl said. With jade amulets.I shook my head. Jade wont be of use against anahual. But it couldnt hurt, either. What can youtell me about Priestess Eleuia?Ceyaxochitls cane tapped against the frescoed walls.An ambitious woman, she said. Still beautiful, con-sidering that she was ve years older than you.Thirty-ve. For a woman, denitely past her prime.And?Allthisishearsay,ofcourse,Ceyaxochitlsaid.SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 21Gatheredfromthosefewstudentsboldenoughtotalktome.Buttheheadofthecalmecac,PriestessZollin, wasnt overjoyed about Eleuia being foretold asthenextConsortoftheFlowerPrince,Xochipilli.Zollin had ambitions of her own.Was she born on a Jaguar day? I asked.Ceyaxochitlshrugged.Thatcanbeveried.Shecouldhavehiredsomeonetodothesummoning,though.I shook my head, still feeling the roiling anger in theroom. Too much rage in here. Whoever did this hadpersonal stakes.Ceyaxochitlbenttoliftthereedmatfromtheground with her cane. Ill defer to your expertise insuch matters. What else? Youll want to know aboutthe people present in this section of the calmecac. Sur-prisingly few, considering how spread-out the placeis.You cant account for them all, I said.Youdbesurprised,Ceyaxochitlsaid,athowmany priestesses are awake at night.Of course. They would be going through their de-votions,justlikethepriestsintheothertemples:blowing their shell-conches at regular hours, burningcopal to honour their goddesses, and kneeling on thecold stones to pray for the welfare of the Fifth World.So who was here?In the vicinity of this room, Ceyaxochitl corrected.Ahandfulofstudents.AnotherJaguarKnight,Mahuizoh. And, of course, Zollin, whose rooms arejust next to Eleuias.AJaguarKnight?Meninthegirlscalmecacwerent rare or forbidden, but they usually left by sun-22 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDset.Visiting his sister, Ceyaxochitl said. The girl sayshe didnt leave her side.She would.Ceyaxochitlnodded.Ofcourse.Bloodstandsbyblood. Probably another jab at me.OrperhapsIwasbeingtoosensitiveaboutthewhole matter. The idea of Neutemoc arrested and triedhad rubbed me raw, and I wasnt really t to judgeCeyaxochitls actions.WhatwasNeutemocsreasonforbeinghere?Iasked.Ceyaxochitl shrugged. He wont tell us.Iturned,tookagoodlookattheroom.Iguessyouve already searched it?Ceyaxochitl didnt move. Yaotl did. But if you wantto see for yourselfI nodded. Yaotl had no magical sight. It was possiblehe might have missed something, though unlikely.It was a brief search. Like all priestesses, Eleuia hadbeenlivinginnear-poverty.InthewickerchestsIfoundafewpersonalbelongings,andanunfoldingcodex on maguey paper, which opened with a rustlingsound, to reveal the history of the Fifth World fromthe primal re from which Tonatiuh the Sun God hademerged, to the very end: the Celestial Women andmonstersthatwouldconsumeusbeforetheearth-quakes tore the land apart.Aside from that a few tokens, safely hidden undera pile of embroidered cotton skirts: an exquisite chal-cedony pendant set in silver, in the shape of a dancerentwined with a warrior; and the same kind of pen-dant,thistimeincoral,withthedanceralone.SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 23Presumably, a third pendant with another type of insetstone,depictingthewarrioralone,wouldcompletethe set. It was a fairly safe guess, though, that Eleuiahad it around her neck.I walked out of the room with Ceyaxochitl in tow,wondering how to proceed.Outside, the night was dark, with only a few starswinking in the sky. Like all the rooms in the calmecac,Eleuiasquartersopenedontoacourtyardwithasmallgardeninthiscase,apine-tree.Therewasfaintmagicinthecourtyard:tracesofanahual,though without living blood I couldnt place it moreprecisely.Satised? Ceyaxochitl asked.I took a quick look at the layout of the place. Onlytwo sets of rooms opened on this particular courtyard:two wide entrances anked by painted pillars, theircurtains painted with the same dayower design. Therst were Eleuias, which I had just searched; I guessedthat the others had to be those of her rival, Zollin.I would have to talk with Zollin, to see what shedreallythoughtofEleuia,andwhethershedsum-monedthenahual.IwouldalsohavetotalktoNeutemoc and the Southern Hummingbird knew Iwasnt looking forward to that.But the most urgent thing was tracking the nahual.WhichmeantIneededtocastaspell;andunlikeCeyaxochitl,whowastheagentoftheDualityandhad been entrusted with some of Their powers, I couldonly rely on my personal magic. Other than magicalobsidian, our patron Mictlantecuhtli, God of the Dead,did not give His powers into human hands. Withoutthe gods help, I could only work magic with living24 SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLDblood.For this, my own blood would not sufce: I neededmuch more than I could spare.Do the priestesses have supplies here? I asked.For using the living blood? Ceyaxochitl rose, asregally as an Imperial Consort. That depends whatyou want. Theyre mostly small animals: birds, rab-bitsI shook my head. For what I had in mind, I neededan animal connected with Mixcoatl, the Cloud Ser-pent, God of the Hunt. Ill return to my temple.SERVANTOFTHEUNDERWORLD 25SERVANT OF THEUNDERWORLD(Obsidian & Blood vol.I)by Aliette de Bodard432pp mass-market paperback, eBookand downloadable audio formatUK/Australia:January 2010North America:September 2010more? angryrobotbooks.comAliette aliettedebodard.comnext Harbinger of the Storm