"I know it's not a favourable situationa"

"It's not 'unfavourable'," Huei said. "It's a disaster, Neutemoc. Tell me what I should tell the children, when they ask me about their father."

"There's been a misunderstandinga"

"No," Huei said. "You were foolish enough to get caught bloodyhanded in a priestess's room. I don't think I want to know why."

"Huei," I said. "I don't think this is the time."

"Then when?" she asked. "After they've strangled him, or crushed his head?"

She clearly knew what was going on. Those penalties she had mentioned were those for killing a woman, and for adultery.

"Priestess Eleuia isn't dead," I lied. "We'll find her, and she'll explain."

"Acatl." For the first time I saw pity in her gaze. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm nota"

But Huei had already turned back to Neutemoc. "I can't believe you've been such a fool," she said. Her hand rose: if the cage had had larger gaps between its bars, she'd have hit him.

Neutemoc said nothing. He looked through her, as though he'd already lost her. "I don't think you'd understand, even if I explained."

I glanced to the side of the platform. If my dispute with Ceyaxochitl had attracted some people, it was nothing compared to the crowd that gathered now: a throng of several dozens, men and women, freemen, noblemen and slaves, all staring quite shamelessly at the spectacle before their eyes.

"Why shouldn't I understand? Some words are so simple to say. Some feelings are easy to demonstrate." Huei lowered her hand slowly. "But then you could never do that, could you?" Her voice was bitter.

Hearing them, I felt... out of place, as if I'd tumbled into some other age of the world, where my brother, my successful brother who could do nothing wrong, was awaiting trial; where he and his wife were tearing at each other, oblivious to my presence.

Their marriage had always been happy; they'd had all I could lay no claim to... Hadn't they? The world, as in an earthquake, had shifted under my feet, and I couldn't mould it back into the right shape.

Neutemoc didn't answer Huei. They stared at each other for a while; finally, Huei said, "Acatl. Will you walk me home?"

I had known her for years, from the time she and Neutemoc had been engaged; and in her tense stance I read, very clearly, that she wanted to speak to me, but not before her husband.

I glanced at Neutemoc, who owed me some explanations. But my brother was sitting, dejected, in his cage, not looking at me. Getting him to talk to me was going to be hard, not to mention painful for him. And I needed to be out of here. I needed to be alone, to have a place to breathe, to think.

"I'll come with you," I said to Huei.

She was quiet as we walked through the streets of Moyotlan. The baby on her back slept, wrapped in cotton cloth.

"I can't believe he's such a fool," she said, as we crossed over a canal.

The smell of cooked maize wafted from a street-food seller; my stomach growled.

"He was just in the wrong placea" I started, unwilling to cause her pain.

Huei looked at me, her wide eyes shining in the sunlight. "Do you really believe that?" she asked.

"No," I said, finally, and it was the truth. "I don't know what to believe in any more."

She laughed, bitterly. "That's two of us, then. I knew he didn't love me any more, Acatl. It's not hard to see."

Save, of course, if you had been distancing yourself from the family for years, as I had. "How long has it been going on?"

She shrugged. "Two, three years? It's always hard to determine. He's been such a good father," she said. "A good husband, better than anything I deserved."

"You deserved the best. And so did he."

Huei smiled. "Always such a liar, Acatl?"

I wanted to tell her it was only the truth a that the slender, shy girl my brother had brought home, so eager to learn everything she could about my own life, had deserved so much more than the taint of adultery a so much more than seeing her husband in a cage. But the words couldn't get past my lips.

She guessed them, all the same, and raised a hand to placate my protests. "No, I know you mean well. But you blind yourself. No marriage can last if there's no trust."

"I don't see any lack of trust," I said, though it was only a lie to comfort her.

We'd reached the pyramid temple of our family's calpulli, where a handful of novice priests were busy sweeping the ground with reed brooms, in preparation for the next sacrifice. A throng of people, most of whom I'd known in childhood, turned to stare at us as we passed. News travelled fast in Tenochtitlan. I had no doubt they knew about Neutemoc's arrest.

Huei sighed. "He'd go out at night, you know? He'd walk the streets, with the light and smell of parties spilling ahead of him. He told me he did it to remind himself of what he was."

"I had no idea he was lonely," I said.

"He shouldn't have been." Her voice was low, fierce. "I took care of him, of his household. Why, Acatl?"

"You think he killed Priestess Eleuia?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I think that he could have had the decency to keep his affairs private."

"But you don't like the idea of his having an affair," I said, wondering how bluntly I could go about the subject. Accusing her of murder in front of the calpulli clan didn't seem a good idea.

"What wife does?" Huei asked. "I'd be lying if I said it left me indifferent."

We'd reached a low, white-washed building adorned with frescoes of leaping jaguars: Neutemoc's house. The smell of spices, mingled with the sweeter one of copal incense, rose to my nostrils, a reminder of a time I'd been a regular visitor here. "Come inside, will you?" Huei asked. "I know Mihmatini will ask after you."

"I didn't know she was back," I said, finally. Mihmatini was still in school: she and her comrades had left a year ago on a retreat on the slopes of Popocatepetl's volcano, a day's journey to the south of Tenochtitlan. I had visited her once or twice; but I had got the impression that once her retreat was over, she would join the clergy, not come back to Neutemoc's house.

"She came back a month ago," Huei said. "She thought you still in Coyoacan. As did we, to be honest."

What a family we made. Not even capable of keeping track of each other.

In the courtyard, I asked Huei, "What day were you born on?"

She looked surprised, but not totally disoriented by the question.

"Eight Death," she said. "Why?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Not 'nothing'," she protested gently as we entered the reception room.

"Nahual magic," I said, curtly.

The reception room had changed in four years: all the walls were now covered with frescoes, depicting Huitzilpochtli, our protector God, in His guise as a young warrior. He trampled bound enemies under His huge feet, and a procession of lesser gods with bowed heads followed Him across the walls of the room. On the wicker chests were silver and jade ornaments, and jaguars' pelts covered the ground. An elaborate fan of green quetzal tail-feathers rested against one of the frescoed walls: an object worth at least two years' living for a poor peasant. Neutemoc had clearly earned a larger share of the tribute in the past years, and his family was enjoying the riches that came with his higher status.

Not for long, though, if he was disgraced. My heart tightened in my chest.

Huei set her baby in a wooden cradle. She unrolled a reed mat over one of the jaguar pelts, and sat on the ground. "I'll have the slaves bring some refreshments," she said. "Your sister is watching over the children. But I think you and I would rather wait until we include her in the conversation."

I said nothing. Huei had always been honest with me, which was one of the reasons we'd related so well to one another. "Very well," I said, finally. "Let's start with the awkward questions. Did you abduct or harm Priestess Eleuia?"

Her eyes flickered. "Through nahual magic? You know I can't use that."

No. Being born on the day Eight Death, she had no nahual. But her equivocation wasn't what I had expected, and it frightened me. "Huei, please. Can you answer the question?"

She didn't speak for a while. "I knew there was someone. It's obvious when you no longer have your husband's attention, and even more obvious when you see him acting like an infatuated child. But I didn't know her name."

I studied her for a while. "And if you had known?"

Huei spread her hands, carefully. "I a I don't know what I would have done." She sounded sincere. "But believe me, I wouldn't sum mon a nahual."

"How did you know he'd been arrested?"

"Calpulli gossip," Huei said. She picked up a wooden rattle a one of the children's toys a and flicked it between her fingers with a dry, hollow sound. "I came as soon as I could. Not that it changed anything, of course. The Storm Lord smite him," she said. "Didn't he realise that he'd lose everything? That we'd lose everything? I thoughta" She paused, and her eyes glimmered in the light.

She was crying. "Huei..." I said, unsure of what I could do. I extended a hand halfway across the space that separated us.

Like Neutemoc, she was looking through me, as if I didn't exist. "He did things. He rose from his status of peasant to a respected warrior. He was going somewhere, and taking us along with him."

"I don't know what you mean," I said, as gently as I could. I felt as if I were intruding on some private grief: never a pleasant thought, and even worse when you knew the person as well as I knew Huei. "Going somewhere?"

"Making something out of his life," Huei said. "And then, all of a sudden, he realises it's not worth it any more, that he can throw it all into Mictlan."

"I don't thinka"

"I know him, Acatl," Huei said. "He was driven."

And you? If he was driven, and making something out of his life, what did you think you were doing?

"And you loved him because of what he was?"

Huei said nothing, but she didn't need to. It was in her eyes: she loved him, and her anger at him was fear; fear that she would lose him to the executioner's mace.

"I'm sorry," she said after a while. "It wasn't meant for you."

I didn't know what to say. I just shook my head, feeling utterly useless. "I'm sorry."