The Fifth Equation

She was rumoured to be the most wanted women on the Rim, and possibly the most dangerous in the Galaxy. Although Itzel Yoliztli Long probably disagreed.

Of mixed Chinese and Aztec parentage. Her mother was the Tonalpohualli's greatest seer. Her father was a skilled cartographer of the Imperial court,who mapped routes through the Jade road. A cosmic hyper network and highway formulated on Chinese ancient dragon line navigation and Aztec cosmologilly star patterns.

The top Chinese imperial physcist insited the aztec cosmologist were either wrong or non-existent.

Itzel was 31, slender,with yellowish porcelain skin,beautiful deep set ruby eyes,a slender mouth and perfect shaped nose. She was often described as stunningly attractive, but 7 years of running from the Empire's paid assassin's, gunslingers and mercenaries had taken its toll on her.

Itzel was unique,tattooed across her back in black ink was a dazzling array of shifting Chinese ancient characters and Nahuatl glyphs that depicted the equation ,a shifting history of events that moved beneath her skin rewriting itself as events changed.

What was more remarkable Itzel was the only person who could feel and read the equation in its current form. A trait she inherited from her mother.

Seven years ago the Empire declared the equation treasonous and ordered its owner to be executed. Itzel had been running from the Empire ever since.

The sign was  written in crude Obsidian lettering “Mictlan's Crossing “ and in brackets (over yonder). This was Itzals current destination. The latest variable . She was due to meet a Tonalpohualli messenger ,here at Mictlans crossing a ghost town in the west of the Rim,and ,they were already nine days late.

It was dusk when she arrived at Mictlan's Crossing. Mictlan’s Crossing is where the dusty trail of the frontier meets the spiritual gravity of the afterlife. It is a "Border Town" in the most literal sense—perched on a jagged asteroid at the very edge of the Xibalba Nebula, where the veil between the living and the dead is as thin as worn leather.

A place which distances life's reptrebates from the rest of society, those who want secrecy, silence,isolation,privacy and a place to hide. Perfect for somebody like Itzel. Someone who ,s flesh is literally writing variable futures  on her skin. She believes in mathematics, preparation and the cold comfort of knowing what is coming despite its outcome.

Because of this,Itzel had always been compant enough to never having been forced to ask for help,so therefore never been able to. She was good at most things,running when needed being among them.

Itzel rode a gruillo  Azteca mare named Xinachtli.A hybrid breed between an Andalusian and Cirrolo . Grullio is a rare smokey blue grey colour. XINACHTLI had a dark dorsal stripe running the length of her spine. In certain lights Xinachtli looked almost metallic.In low light the horse looks like smoke given form.

Itzal carried a Obsidian Rail"  (The Tezcatlipoca rifle ,instead of gunpowder it is propelled using magnetic induction and dark matter. It has a short barrell, not much longer then a colt 45, made of Argent  volcanic glass,reinforced with amethyst crystal filigree. The main body (stock) carved from the heartwood of a sacred cypress tree.

It fires monomolecular Obsidian shards,which do not target the physical body, but hone in on the Naugal *the spirit animal* if this is hit the body drops dead without leaving a mark .The Tezcatlipoca is loaded by whispering a personal word that is  coded into the breach. The weapon lies loosely by Itzel,s side, attached to a special reinforced silk cord for easy reach.

As Itzel rode slowly into town, The sky above was a swirling vortex of marigold-orange and void-black, illuminated by a dying green sun that never quite set. The main road,no more of a track  really that led into Mictlans crossing was unnaturally straight. Known to  locals as the path of petals. It is formed from dephinium turquoise flower petals that have crumbled to dust.

Most of the buildings she passed were weather beaten wood, with sagging split and worn porches,built upon sloping pyramid type rocks carved with serpent heads..

The  jade saloon one of two focal points in the entire town. The other was  the great Tonalpohualli stone calender.  Right at this moment it was the Saloon that interested Itzel most. Upon reaching her destination she dismounted and tethered  Xinachtli to a wooden Obsidian post removed a leather satchel ,checked her Obsidian Rail rifle, satisfied she entered the saloon.

The Jade saloon exterior llooked like any other far  west saloon, a two story flaking flapboard  wooden  building . A whitewashed sign with the words Jade saloon painstakingly painted in a literal jade coloured pigment hung above the two heavy polished Obsidian batswing doors .

The doors immediately grabbed Itzel, s attention,it was so subtle ,but the equation flickered on her back, and she just knew she had to take a close look. At first glance they looked natural, as it was obviously meant to, a closer inspection  of grain of the Obsidian revealed the repeating pattern of the Aztec fret -step- xicalcoliuhqui — the key pattern that represents the movement of the feathered serpent throughout  time. The Jade saloon  is waiting for those that notice this.

The saloon bar seemed to stretch forever, much further then one could  imagine when comparing it with the illusory size  of the outside . Sixty feet of tarnished wood, stained with beer,spirits and ,worn areas indicating where  elbows and arms have been continually proped.on it. Along its edge was a strip of pure inlaid jade.  A wall of wanted posters hung behind the bar. Itzel  noticed hers was  third from the left,whoever drew it got her eyes exactly right this bothered her more then the huge bounty offered.

The bartender a strange being only known as Coyotyl poured a drink and handed it to her ,he never mentioned the wanted poster. A professional courtesy.  Coyotyl is not any age that arithmetic  applies. Brown weathered skin,that seems to have lived through a thousand years. It had. Hair that fliterd between white,silver and gray,depending on the light. Drawn back and tied with a strip of leather  that had a solitary turquoise bead worked into it ,his only adornment.

Coyotyl, s face was broad with the peculiar bone structure of the deepest Rim. Strong jaw ,a nose that has been broken, yet strengthens his appearance.  There were  lines around his eyes, not of age,but of ancient wisdom and knowledge. His eyes like some of his kind were Coyotyl most memorial feature, often remembered by those who saw them for many years after. Obsidian with a amber ring iris. Giving the impression of someone awake ,more then most anyway. Holding a  very ancient intelligence, choosing to use them considerably to focus on events in this particular saloon. Only he knew the  reasons why.

Dressed in dark  linen trousers, a collarless deep ochre coloured shirt that has faded evenly, but looked   better for it. A vest of soft leather dyed dark blue and worn open. Boots that carried dust from every planet on the Rim. He carried no visible weapon.

He looks like he chose his body ,simply for his presence here. Because presence needs a body. And his presence at Jades saloon goes back as far as anyone can remember.  Perhaps further.  He moved with a graceful economy with precision and timing,just like a coyote moving through the brush.

His hands were  those of a worker calloused ,capable, a few scars, yet they worked swiftly elegantly. When he set a glass down it is precisely where it is meant to be. Every drink is poured to exactly the right amount.

Itzel who notices and catalogues everything, wrote it all in her notebook ,even though she was already aware of it. Coyotyl smelled  of woodsmoke .Mescal and cold  mineral essence, the Equation shifted as glyphs rearranged on Itzel back..a single glyph stood out..Boundary Keeper. The one who stands at the crossroads, the door to what is and what will be.

He laughed easily and quietly a specific laugh, that of the novelty of mortals trying to do there best in impossible situations.  He never tells anybody his full name. Only Coyotyl which means coyote in Nahuatl which is probably more his nature then his name.

Itzel checked in with the Tonalpohualli identification process protocal three times for Coyotyl all three came back unknown.. so he predated  caterization, which Tonalpohualli protocol were not designed to produce.  Itzel made a note of this in her notebook. She could have asked him,but she knew he would answer,  and somehow that seemed more disturbing then the alternative.

Having handed her the drink Coyotyl indicated to a barstool to his right. Itzal moved  to the suggested stool ,it was plain and covered in a jade fabric. Normal in every sense except embedded in its covering written in the symbols of ancient Tonalpohualli was her name. Itzel knew  only Coyotyl and herself  could see the markings, this was her predesignated seat. Itzel sat and took a sip of her drink. Mescal her favorite.

As she sat she took notes on the varying patrons that occupied the saloon .there were just a group of exiled Chinese immortals playing poker with skeletal Aztec "tzitzimitl" warriors. They were drinking the specialised "whiskey" served here fermented from the nectar of the Cempasúchil (marigold), said to allow the undead to speak  with the living  of the Empire.

Itzal suddenly felt completely relaxed, no not relaxed unhindered.  At first she thought it was the effects of the Mescal ,then realised for the first time in 7 years the equation had gone silent. It had stopped moving,and communicating with her. Not corrupted,not downgraded just quiet,  like a held breath. Coyotyl looked  her way, and somehow sensed the problem. He pointed to a well worn area on the bar ,that was marked with a circular sigil, indicating through a miming action for her to put the her glass down on that spot. Without hesitation Itzel did as requested, and gently put down  her  glass . The glass rotated,hummed then cracked.

Coyotyl gave her a wink and a  barely noticeable thumbs up,as if to say now do what you have to. Itzel regulated her breathing, closed her eyes and began the specific internal process of not panicking. A process that she had spent years practicing.  She knew the answer would come, it always did.