“Yeah, hilarious irony, right? It’s like that thing about how you should never meet your heroes. You’ll only be disappointed.”
“Idols with feet of clay,” said Stuart.
“So,” said Vaughn, after a pause, “next, I suppose, there’s going to be an attack on this place. The good gods versus the bad one.”
“‘Good’ is relative in this context, but yes, that sounds about right. They won’t do it by halves, either. Whatever Tezcatlipoca has up his sleeve by way of a defence, it had better be a decent one, for his sake.”
“Any idea how long before it all kicks off?”
“How would I know?”
“You’re the god expert.”
“Am not. But if pushed I’d say it won’t be long. Quetzalcoatl’s not one to hang about. Sometime today, for certain.”
“All the more reason for us to get out of here, and sharpish.”
“Quite. Getting caught up in the middle of a war between gods is not something any sane person would want.”
Something caught Vaughn’s eye — something passing by the alley’s mouth. She got to her feet and padded stealthily to peer out. Then she beckoned to Stuart and pointed.
He saw what she had seen, understood her meaning, and gave her a grinning thumbs-up.
They shadowed the priest and the acolyte for a couple of hundred yards until the perfect spot for an ambush presented itself. It was a garden of contemplation, a small oasis of tropical greenery amid the urban labyrinth, where a fountain tinkled and a colony of chattering capuchin monkeys fed on berries in the treetops. Moments after the priest and the acolyte entered the garden’s lush verdant haze, Stuart and Vaughn followed them in.
It was over quickly, with scarcely a sound. The acolyte put up more of a struggle than the priest, but then he was younger and fitter. Stuart had to subdue him with a chokehold. Vaughn made short work of the priest, coshing him with the pommel of her macuahitl.
They dragged the two unconscious bodies into the shrubbery and stripped them of their ceremonial garb. Then they changed out of their own clothes, Vaughn ordering Stuart not to peek at her in her underwear, on pain of death.
“Long as you promise not to do the same to me.”
“Like I give a shit.”
“You realise we’re committing hieratic fraud? A capital offence?”
“Again, like I give a shit.”
“Vaughn, you’re a changed woman.”
“Maybe. Now turn your back.”
When they had finished donning the priest’s and acolyte’s vestments, Stuart tore his shirt into strips, which they used to truss and gag the near-naked holy men. He reckoned, what with everything else that was going on, no one would miss these two for several hours.
“Still wish you’d agreed to killing them, though.”
“My plan, my rules,” said Vaughn. “I don’t hate the priesthood like you do. Besides, however careful we were, we might have got blood on the vestments. This way’s neater.”
Stuart adjusted the priestly headdress until it sat straight on his head. “Now, remember. Three paces behind me at all times. Mustn’t arouse suspicion, must we?”
“I’m a female acolyte. Of course I’m going to arouse suspicion.”
“Then try and walk more like a man.”
“I will if you do.”
“Oh, ha ha.”
They strode out from the garden, one behind the other, robes swishing behind them, and for a time it seemed as though it would be plain sailing. Nobody they came across ventured them a second glance. Priests and acolytes were a common sight in Tenochtitlan, even Caucasian ones, and besides, the city was now in a state of alert and had become a hive of frenetic activity. People were rushing to and fro on errands and urgent missions. Serpent Warriors were on the march, quickstepping in phalanxes towards various destinations. Some were making for the airfield, where a fleet of aerodisc gunships awaited. Others were on their way to man strategic positions on the outer walls, carrying with them lightning guns of a kind Stuart had never seen before, large-barrelled and bulkier than the average l-gun, closer in size to a conventional bazooka. Still others disappeared down stairwells that led to entrances to what must be underground bunkers. All of them were too intent on their business to spare a thought for much else.
Nevertheless, Stuart and Vaughn made sure to stay as inconspicuous as possible. They walked at a sedate priestly pace, even though they would rather have been hurrying. Their lack of ritual tattooing was another giveaway, so they kept their faces hidden by bending their heads low, in attitudes of pure piety.
When the huge trapezoid gateway came into view, Stuart dared to think they were going to make it after all. The gate was shut, of course, and guarded, but surely no Serpent Warrior would refuse a demand from a priest to open it. Freedom was just moments away.
“My good man,” Stuart said, gesturing loftily at the leader of the team of Serpents overseeing incomings and outgoings at the city’s sole public access point. “Captain…?”
“Ueman.”
“Captain Ueman. My associate and I wish to go outside. Kindly let us through.”
“Through to what, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“The harbour.”
“Again if you don’t mind my asking, why?”
“I’ll thank you to use my proper title when addressing me,” Stuart said with all the hieratic haughtiness he could muster.
“Your Holiness,” said Captain Ueman, “I mean no disrespect, but it’s an, ahem, unusual request. There’s nothing out there but boats and water. If you want to leave the city, surely a disc would be more convenient.”
“Such impertinence!” Stuart snapped. He was beginning to wonder whether he could pull this off. A couple of the other Serpents were looking with intense curiosity at Vaughn, who lowered her head even further and kept her robe gathered tight around her to disguise her figure. Her short choppy hair was at least vaguely masculine, even if the rest of her was distinctly not.
“How dare you presume to question me?” Stuart continued. Cowing the captain was perhaps his only hope. “I’ll have you know I’m here at the behest of the Great Speaker himself. You’re aware that we’re facing imminent enemy assault? I’ve been assigned the task of inspecting the harbour and seeing to it that all civilian personnel who’ve come by boat evacuate the area immediately.”
“That order’s already gone out. They’re all starting to head for the shore.”
“And I’m responsible for ensuring they all get well out of harm’s way. Now, which is worse, would you say? That I fail to do so and commit a dereliction of duty, or that I return to the Great Speaker and tell him that a certain Captain Ueman hindered me from performing my appointed task? Which do you think would make his Imperial Holiness angrier, and with whom?”
Ueman flinched. His cheeks paled a little. “It may not be safe out there. The attack could come at any minute. I’m only concerned about your welfare, Your Holiness.”
“I’ll take the risk. I can do no less, when the Great Speaker commands.”
Ueman was, against his better judgement, persuaded. He turned to his men and gave the order for the gate to be opened. One of the Serpent Warriors pressed a lever that triggered the release mechanism. Arm-thick bolts withdrew, a motor churned, a drive chain clanked and, with monumental slowness, the gate began to roll aside.
Stuart glimpsed lake. Seconds from now, he and Vaughn would be haring down to the harbour to bag a place aboard one of the handful of boats that had yet to unmoor and slip away from the quayside.
Then one of the Serpents who was squinting at Vaughn said, “Sir? This may sound strange but I’m pretty sure this acolyte’s a girl.”
There was no time to hesitate. Stuart grabbed Ueman and kicked his legs out from under him. As the Serpent captain collapsed, Stuart took possession of his macuahitl, yanking it from its scabbard. He slashed the shoulder strap of Ueman’s lightning gun and deprived him of that as well.
Vaughn, for her part, seized hold of the arm of the Serpent who had rumbled her. She twisted it round back against itself almost to dislocation point, so that the man was forced to double over. Then she kneed him three times in the face, relieved him of his l-gun, and let him fall.