Chapter 1
The Smoking Mirror
Part 1: CATHARSIS
[The Emissary]
A nervous tzapameh found Lord Tēzcatlipōca gazing out over the river Apanohuayan. He’d been standing there for hours, pondering what to do about the impending crisis.
Little sisters. The time was coming near for his brother Quetzalcōātl to be reborn on earth again. He had learned from Huītzilōpōchtli that their little sister Chalchiuhtlicue had met with some Irish goddess named Fand. Together, they were conspiring to kidnap and curse some child demigod called Mabon, who was about to be reborn as a human during the same generation. The curse would twist Mabon’s nature as the greatest hunter of animals in the land into a foul hunter of Man. In this way, he would be coerced into killing Quetzalcōātl’s human body, rendering Quetzalcōātl’s purpose stillborn. And it would ignite yet another war in the heavens.
How tedious.
Tēzcatlipōca had no interest in Dea Matrona’s plight, but her son was going to bring a huge, literal mess for his brother. Tēzcatlipōca stared out over the waters, debating how to destroy Chalchiuhtlicue’s latest machinations. His ears had been flattened almost completely with his displeasure while he ruminated, but they stood up, one swiveling to the left as he picked up a whisper of sound.
“Err, my Lord?”
The god glanced over and down at the little servant, and smiled benignly.“Yes?”
“My Lord, one of the Melakhim from the Christian realm has come and seeks an audience with you.” He looked askance at the weird-looking being. “Shall I turn it away?”
Lord Tēzcatlipōca raised his eyebrows and heaved a long, annoyed sigh, his ears tilting and slightly drooping in boredom. “It’s fine. Show it in.” He stood, stretched luxuriously, and limped into the receiving hall.
The Melakhim was led into the chamber, where it waited a proper ten paces away. It may have looked like a deformed owl driven insane, but it was as polite as any servant.
Tēzcatlipōca assumed his throne and stretched his legs out, reminding the much-exalted servant of his own high station. “Welcome to Mictlan. We don’t see your kind down here much.”
The being did not seem to understand banter and remained silent. Lord Tēzcatlipōca sighed, bored again, and got to the point. “How may I help you?”
“The time draws near. Your child will soon harm the little one I am assigned to protect.”
Tēzcatlipōca threw back his head and laughed. “After all of my children your children have just slaughtered, you dare ask this of me?” His ears flattened with hostility.
“I dare.”
Tēzcatlipōca was surprised at the being’s sheer nerve, an emotion he didn’t get to experience much here, but he masked it. He tilted his head and shrugged, splaying his paws in a curious gesture. “Explain to me why I should spare one child, not even of my own people, for you.”
“He is fated to die horribly. He is an innocent. He does not deserve this fate, not truly.”
“Hundreds of millions of innocents have died since the creation of the humans. Why should I spare your one innocent?”
“I am not tasked with protecting hundreds of millions. I only seek to protect one. You take your share of lives, but you choose to spare them occasionally, too. You could choose to turn her path away from murder.”
“She hasn’t even been born, yet.”
“Then you have time to prepare her a new path.”
It irritated Lord Tēzcatlipōca how logical this messenger’s argument was. He sighed irascibly, closed his eyes, and pictured her face as it was going to look in adulthood. A beautiful hunter, by human standards. But then he noticed –
“The hearth of her tonalli is not lit. You could choose to light it.”
Tēzcatlipōca’s amber eyes side-eyed the guest, reminding it that he outranked it. How did it even know of their ways?
“I promise you nothing. I need to think on this. Leave me.”
The Melakhim made a strange, unfamiliar movement that was as close to a bow as it could approximate, then followed the tzapameh back the way it had come.
Tēzcatlipōca paced around his throne room, annoyed. Finally, he stopped next to his work table and studied the girl in detail.
Her tonalli was dark indeed. In the modern parlance of her day, she was fated to become a serial kidnapper and assaulter of both men and women, a blackmailer – perhaps even a murderer. Her lifeline was dark and short; her journey along the Sinister Road would be long and arduous. The French child, Mabon, would become a master serial killer if the curse wasn’t broken or suppressed.
Unless.
Tēzcatlipōca’s brow furrowed as he studied her and this boy, Mabon. He didn’t need to study the tonalpohualli or the xiuhpōhualli to know that their timelines and their geographical locations crossed in numerous spots. She would be a little older than him chronologically, but not enough to cause undue controversy if they were paired.
Gods or goddesses of his realm had no power to compel love in men and women – he had heard stunning gossip about some Greek goddess called Aphrodite – but a marriage of convenience would do for his purposes. If natural love blossomed from the pairing, all the better for all involved.
He experimented with crossing their fates, and he smiled. If he blessed him there and her, here… it just might mitigate the curse of Chalchiuhtlicue. He could use the girl as his weapon, his tool.
The child the Melakhim had spoken for was nothing to Tēzcatlipōca, but he had inspired a workable solution to Tēzcatlipōca’s quandary. He would alter her mind and make her let the boy live, even before he blessed her. It was nothing more than a sop, but it seemed an appropriate act of gratitude to him.
He glanced at the mortal calendar. On Earth, she had been born moments ago in San Diego, California. Mabon’s time was almost here.
“Fetch my raft and prepare it for long travel.”
“My Lord!?” The servant asked as other tzapameh scattered around the hall in confusion, hastening to obey.
Lord Tēzcatlipōca stood, looking more pleased than he had in days. “I need to travel to Marne to attend the birth of a mortal. It seems I have a blessing to confer.”
