"Why do the gods require blood, and suffering, and death? It makes no sense to me. I mean it's so needlessly brutal and inhuman."

He sat there listening to her rail, watching her pace the room nervously, and wondering why she was again asking a question they had already discussed before.

After a few minutes of agitated pacing, she eventually sat down at the table, lulled to a slow calm by his patient silence. He would not waste words when she was this aggravated and not willing to listen. He wished he knew what had gotten her in such a state. Only when she was quiet and less excited did Teuc begin, his voice low and gentle.

"As I once told you, and as I do so now, the sacrifice of man is required for the welfare of all humankind. Without it, the very life of man would cease to be. As for the gods, they are not unreasonable or unnecessarily cruel. They do not require any more from us than they would ask of themselves. Why, the very sun itself was born of the sacrifice of the gods. Several gods in the heavens, at the birth of creation, immolated themselves so that the sun would be born and would be able to move across the heavens. And in order for the sun to warm the earth, and not be forever cast aside by the darkness of night, forever under the spell of Tezcatlipoca, we must continue feeding it. As well as the earth, the waters, the heavens and the gods that tend to them. The gods have shown us that from death comes life. It is true they can be fearful as well as benevolent. When Tezcatlipoca swallowed the sun the day you came to us, the people praised him, but with fear because he showed us on that day what could happen if we do not heed the needs of the gods."

He stopped, looking across at her. She was listening and trying to understand, but didn't seem to be able to. He had not really calmed her distress. "Cihuatl, what has happened to make you doubt so?"

She looked away for a second, and he waited for her answer. The lesson plan for the day had now been put aside. She was not in the mood to learn.

Her eyes turned back to him after the silent moment. "The man they found at the bridge...I saw him today."

"And...."

Her eyes moved away from his again. "I think I know him, but I don't know why or where from...I just know him. And I think he knows me, who I really am, before I came here."

"You are Cihuatl, daughter from the skies, gift of the gods...before that, there was no you." He looked disturbed, as though he did not want to hear anything about her past life. Whether the look was from faith slightly shaken, or something else, she couldn't determine.

"I am not Cihuatl, at least I wasn't before I came here. I know that in my heart now."

She stood up so abruptly that the chair fell on its back. Because he thought she was about to topple backwards, he reached across the table for her hand to prevent the fall. It was the first touch between them, and even as she steadied herself, his hand remained holding hers, surprising both of them. Just as she was about to pull away, a flurry of images assaulted her mind, pulling her away from reality.

She saw Teuc standing before another man, an older man, his locks as long as the younger priest's. Both men were bloody, but instead of the black robes worn by Teuc, the older priest wore a cloak of skin around him. Human skin. The original wearer lay dead at their feet, blood, sinew, veins, musculature exposed. Behind the men, a pot was boiling, and another man stood with a dismembered arm in his hand. He dropped it into the pot, and then picked up a spoon to stir.

Alex pulled away so violently that she did topple. When Teuc came around the table to help her up, she screamed.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled as she scooted away from him.

"What...what is the matter with you?"

"You're nothing but cannibals! I saw you with one of your sacrifices! One of you was wearing his skin, and about to eat the rest of him. It was barbaric!" She began to describe the images in her vision.

She remained on the floor, shoving away his proffered hand. Finally, he slowly backed away from her. Her look was rabid, frightened, as though she were looking at something not quite human. It hurt him down to his soul to see her looking at him in such a way. He went back to his seat and sat down, his eyes looking downward to his feet. Only when she was sure that he would keep his distance did she climb up from the floor. She stood and walked to the windows. Finally, she spoke.

"I am sorry. I don't know what came over me. It was so strange, these images so strong as though I was standing there with you and those men, looking down at that wretched soul...."

Teuc listened to her now, but his mind was on her earlier words. Everything she described had occurred just days before. Just as it had happened. How had she known? What strange powers did she possess? He, too, was now afraid.

When she turned back to him, the look of fear was gone from her face. Instead, her expression approximated the regal confidence of a royal woman in Moctezuma's retinue. The softness was also gone, her features hardened.

"Teuc, thank you for coming today, but I'm not feeling up to studying lessons. If you could just leave...come back tomorrow."

He stood and bowed. "As you will. I will come back tomorrow, wherein we will study on the gods of the harvest."

"Teuc." The sound of his name stopped him at the door. He turned back to her. Her expression was unreadable. "Again, I am sorry. Please, if you would not speak of this to anyone. I have not been feeling myself lately, but I don't want anybody to worry unnecessarily. I just need to get more sleep I think."

He nodded his acquiescence and then left. She turned to look out on the gardens. It seemed she did that a lot lately. She liked to lose herself in their beauty, loved the smell that drifted into the room. They calmed her somehow. Made her head clear so that she could think about what she was planning to do.

The germ of the idea had planted itself in her mind this morning, shortly after the door to the prisoner's room had shut out his cries. She had remained silent during their walk back to her quarters, where she and Moctezuma had parted as he then left for his court again. Before Teuc had shyly knocked at her door (he often entered the room with his head bowed, his manner one of obsequious piety), the plan had formulated in sketchy details. Now those details had fully crystallized.

Yes, she knew what she had to do.

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The night that fell was full of silence, a silence so tangible she could touch it if only she reached out a hand to it. Moonlight rested on the walls of her room as she waited, casting shadows of things not there, things that only lived in her imagination. And despite the sweltering heat that laid on her body like a fine mist and caused her shift to stick to her skin, she felt a chill. Even her hands were cold and she rubbed them together to create some warmth. A saying came to mind. Cold hands, cold heart. Where had she heard that before? Only, her heart was not cold. It was afire with fear.

What was possessing her? She was risking her life for a man she didn't even know. Even so, she retrieved the small packet from a box in which she kept jewels Moctezuma had given her. There was quite an accumulation. On the nights they shared, he often surprised her with some exquisite creation that he had had designed and made especially for her. She knew the other women resented his favoritism towards her, and she stayed out of their way the best she could. This included the senior wives. Until Moctezuma had put a stop to it, both had gone out of their way to humiliate her before the others, to criticize her looks, her coloring, her hair, causing the younger concubines to snicker, either in a concert of envy, or because of intimidation from the two older women. But after Moctezuma's pointed reproach, which he had levelled at his wives with a quiet tongue but blazing eyes, the biting remarks had stopped. Yet, at times, when they were overconfident at not getting caught, their eyes spoke what their tongues could not. She refused to listen to those eyes.

She stood now with the packet in her hand. It wasn't actually a packet, really just a small square paper with all four corners folded in. She opened one of those corners carefully, wary not to spill any of the crumbled grains of the fungus onto the floor. This particular fungus called nanacatl grew on leaves of certain herbal plants and was known to cause drunkeness. She had seen it before when Tenan had innocently shown her where it grew in one of the gardens. She had only marginally been interested at the time when the servant had taken special care to point out the different herbs and plants, and the spores that grew on top of the various leaves. Now she was grateful to him, and glad that she had remembered the properties that had been so diligently explained on that day. She was also grateful to the young boy servant who had dutifully retrieved it for her upon her request. The young boy was an attendant to Tenan and was, therefore, also hers.

The knock that came was expected and she opened. The same boy who had gathered the fungus stood before her now, again her order. It was past dusk, and the guards were due to change soon. The new guards were not allowed to eat, but were allowed water, sometimes juice to refresh them through the long night. She hoped tonight that cups of juice would be waiting, as the boy had told her they often were. The powdered fungus would dissolve unnoticeably in juice, and its taste would be masked. With enough in each cup, the guards would eventually pass out from heady intoxication...and she could do what she planned.

The boy...what was his name?...oh, yes...Yaotl...silently took the packet from her hand, and with the stealth of the young proceeded down the corridor. He knew where to go and what to do. She only hoped that he was not caught, even though he had told her that oftentimes the cups arrived before the next shift, and were, for a few short minutes, left unattended. But those minutes were imperative to her. The guards did not change at the immediate door to the holding room, but met at another door that led to the anteroom. Any servants within the area might not be seen.

After the boy had gone, the following minutes seemed interminable. She paced, she sat, she stared out at the gardens, only to start pacing again. Almost half an hour passed before she opened her door. She knew that Moctezuma was with one of his other wives tonight and would not come to her. Not this night. Otherwise her plan would have died before germination.

The halls were empty; it was long past time for even the eunuchs to be up wandering around. The hallways were dark, except for the torches at intervals along the wall. She proceeded on bare feet, her light shift her only covering. The eunuch who sat at the door separating the women's chambers from the rest of the castle was the first casualty of the sprinkle of fungus left in his food that the boy had served him earlier. His snores were audible even from a distance, and she only hoped that no one would come along and see him half falling from his chair.

She eased the key from the belt around the snoring sentry's waist and unlocked the door and then edged around him, opening the large cedar door carefully. With wary stealth, she made her way down the many halls that she had memorized in her head as she had walked them that morning. At one turn, she was startled to hear a couple of sentries walking. She quickly pressed herself into a corner, hiding in the shadows, her heart beating so fast she thought she might faint. As she heard them nearing, she wished she could meld into the wall and disappear, for if they found her, she wasn't certain what her fate would be. The sentries spoke in whispers as they passed her without turning around.

She almost lost her nerve then. Her senses were deadened and her heartbeat nearly drowned out the sounds around her, making her vulnerable. She took more than a few moments to calm down, to find her nerve once more. And then she continued.

She got turned around twice before she finally found the hall that led to the anteroom where the prisoners were kept. The heat of the castle had plastered her shift to her body, and its sheerness did not leave much hidden from view. At the door, with two passed out sentries, she hesitated for a second due to modesty alone. She did not want the prisoner to see her nakedness, wishing she had thought to dress. But she had come this far. His life depended on her. She found the key and opened the door carefully.