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‘I suppose not.’ Crayfish looked uncertainly at Angry.

‘Don’t know,’ Angry mumbled, staring into his bowl. ‘Don’t care either!’

There was a short, awkward pause before Crayfish continued: ‘My uncle tried giving him work to do, but he’d always go and mess it up.’

‘He did it on purpose,’ growled Angry, looking up again. ‘If I told him to harden feathers he’d let the glue boil until they disintegrated, and if he was supposed to cut out a pattern he’d let the knife slip and it would all have to be done again. He didn’t care. He was only interested in Marigold. If he couldn’t find an excuse to go and talk to her they’d just make eyes at each other across the courtyard.’

‘So Marigold didn’t do anything to discourage him?’ I asked bluntly.

I regretted the question immediately as I watched the muscles in the man’s face contort. What man could abide having his daughter accused of being a flirt? Once again, however, it was the nephew who stepped in, answering for his uncle before he could fly into a rage.

‘You don’t know what it’s like here. Everybody lives for his work. It used to be … well, people used to chat and laugh and …’

‘When your aunt was alive, you mean,’ Angry grumbled. ‘All right, you don’t need to say it. She could bring me up short when I started throwing my weight around.’ Hesqueezed his eyelids shut for a moment before going on. ‘I know, we’ve been through this before. You know how often I’ve said it myself, especially … especially in the last few days. The poor girl started to see the walls of the courtyard closing in on her, didn’t she? And she wasn’t getting any younger herself. I can’t pretend she’s a beauty, and even with my money her prospects weren’t that good. So what was she bound to do but fall for a layabout like Idle?’ He sighed. ‘If it had been his brother, now …’

‘He was married,’ I pointed out.

Crayfish said: ‘I think Marigold was quite sweet on him, though. She used to talk to him a lot — about his work and religion, mainly. I’m not sure Butterfly was too happy about it, but I never heard her say anything. I doubt if Marigold and Idle ever spent much time talking,’ the lad added ruefully.

‘So what was Idle …’

‘He wanted my uncle’s money,’ Crayfish said bluntly.

His uncle added: ‘Idle tried it on with a few of the girls before he fixed on her. He’s a bastard, but he’s the sort who’s so convinced every woman finds him irresistible that they end up believing it themselves. So I don’t suppose he had to ask her twice.’

‘They got married, though.’

‘Of course they did,’ said Angry bitterly, ‘with a generous dowry from me. I kidded myself that maybe she’d calm him down a bit. He was causing too much disruption here. The women wouldn’t stick to their work, and he seemed to have some sort of fascination for Skinny. I don’t know what it was, but his work started going to pieces again, round about the time his brother got married.’

‘And then they all left together?’ I asked. ‘When was that?’

‘Near the end of last summer. A bit less than half a year ago.’

‘I wondered if Skinny just got sort of homesick,’ Crayfishsaid. ‘Being with his brother again after all those years reminded him where they both grew up.’

‘More likely they both thought lying around in Atecocolecan living off my daughter’s dowry was easier than working,’ snapped Angry. ‘I was happy enough when Marigold told me she and Idle wanted to leave. I thought they were going to make a fresh start and get a grip on that plot of land of his. She’s a good girl, she’d have enjoyed doing that. And … well, I think she was … I mean, I’m pretty sure she was …’

‘Pregnant,’ his nephew added bluntly.

‘You think?’ I stared at them both. ‘Surely you’d know — it ought to be obvious by now!’

‘We’ve hardly seen any of them, since they left.’

I frowned into the fire. ‘Skinny and his wife went at the same time.’

‘Suddenly, no explanation. Not that I’d have tried to stop them — Skinny’s work had more or less dried up by then anyway. But …’ A tremor went through the big man’s body. ‘Do you know what I’m afraid of, Joker? I think they saw their chance. They had the money she took with her, but they didn’t want her around any more. They’ve done something with her. It’s that Idle — maybe he’s lying low, hoping I’ll forget about him before he reappears. But I won’t!’

FOUR WATER

1

I was allowed to stay the night. I slept by the hearth, making the most of its warmth, luxuriating in it so long as I was awake and relishing the contrast with what I had undergone the night before. I could enjoy remembering the cold, the exhaustion and the numbness in my feet while I basked in the comforting warmth of the slowly subsiding flames. They still flickered when my eyes closed and I lost interest in them. By the time I woke again, to the distant sound of the pre-dawn trumpet, there was nothing left but glowing embers, ready to be blown into life again.

As soon as I was awake and able to move about, I left and headed back towards Pochtlan. I had no intention of trying Angry’s uncertain temper any further than I had to. I thought I might find Kindly and tell him what I had found out. I was more than ever convinced that Idle held the key to his stolen property. Kindly knew his family and would be able to tell me things about him. And I was beginning to wonder how much the old merchant knew about the history of the costume. Who had commissioned the work, and how long would it be before he started making his own enquiries about it?

But my immediate concern was with Idle. He would know what had happened to my son. That thought hurried me along through the dark, empty streets. If my son was alive I had to find him as quickly as possible. If not then finding outwhat had become of him was the last service I could render him.

The weather had changed abruptly, as it was often apt to at this time of year. A thick layer of cloud had come down off the mountains and the city still lay in its shadow. As I made my way back towards the bridge leading to Pochtlan, I had to pick my way carefully alongside the canal. The clouds had unloaded a fair amount of rain in the night and the ground was damp and slippery. By the time the bridge came into sight, illuminated by a flickering light, my already frayed nerves were stretched so far that I did not even stop to wonder where the light might be coming from.

I found out the moment I stepped on the bridge.

‘Not so fast, you! Stay where you are!’

I had imagined the orange flame at the far end of the bridge to be coming from an unguarded brazier, not a pine torch resting in the huge callused fist of a veteran warrior. When I heard his harsh challenge I froze, with one foot in the air, and I seemed to stand like that, poised at my end of the wooden structure, for an age before any of my muscles would give way in response to my urge to run. All that happened, as the warriors came for me, was that my whole body sagged and my suspended foot thumped the wood with the hollow sound of a rubber hammer hitting a drum.

‘Well, well,’ rumbled the man who held the torch. ‘What have we got here, then?’

At first, all I felt was despair at the thought that my master and the Otomi captain had finally caught up with me.

It was too easy to imagine what would happen next. I would be dragged home, hauled through the streets by my hair, my scalp tearing and burning as pitiless hands tugged at it, the skin flayed from my heels as they scraped along the ground,leaving dark trails of blood, while passers-by watched my anguished throes with indifferent curiosity. I wondered what they had in store for me. Would the Otomi want to practise his way of knocking out teeth with a flint knife, or would he use a finer blade, a sliver of obsidian perhaps, the sort that could part a man’s skin from his flesh and his flesh from his bones and leave him still alive?