Read Online Aztlan: The Last Sun by Michael Jan Friedman - Free Book Online Page B

used to think standing vigil would be a vacation. It sounded so easy.”
    “Little did you know,” said Izel.
    “Did you see see Coyotl last night?” Quetzalli asked me.
    “No,” I said, “I missed him. I was playing in my mens’ league.”
    When I first left the ball court, I watched every game presented on the Mirror, even the bad ones between teams like Zempoala and Oxtlipa. Now I missed one here and there.
    “Was he good?” I asked, sitting down on an empty counter.
    Quetzalli chuckled appreciatively. “He was great . In one play he took out two attackers, just laid them out on the ground. They had to be taken off on litters.”
    “He’s a beast,” said Izel.
    “A demon ,” said Quetzalli. “Malinalco didn’t score a goal in the first half. They wouldn’t have scored at all except for that idiot Chipaua. I don’t know why they keep him on the team.”
    “Who else are they going to get?” asked Izel. “You think defenders grow out of the ground like sweet potatoes?”
    “Coyotl played well against Xoconochco too,” I said.
    “You mean last week?” asked Quetzalli. “How would you know that? It was blacked out.”
    “I didn’t see it on the Mirror,” I explained. “I saw it in the Arena.”
    Quetzalli looked at me as if I had sprouted eagle-wings. “You got a pass ? How in the name of—”
    “Colhua was a star ,” Takun reminded her with a twisted grin. “He can get a pass any time he wants.”
    I ignored the remark. “An old teammate helped me out. He’s still with the organization.” Not so high up in the organization that he could get me passes on a regular basis, unfortunately, but high enough to slip me a cloud seat once in a while.
    “Nice,” said Quetzalli.
    In a way, it was. People killed for passes to the games—sometimes literally. But in another way, it hurt. After all, I wasn’t that old. If I hadn’t torn up my knee, I would still have been playing instead of just watching.
    “It’s inspiring to work with Colhua,” said Takun. “Like drinking chocolate with the Emperor.”
    “Be inspired to find something on those monitors,” I told him, “and I’ll forget to report your abuse of a fellow Investigator.”
    “You’re too generous,” said Takun.
    It felt good to banter with them. I should have gone downstairs and gotten to work reviewing the cultists’ interviews. But after what I had been through the night before, after what I had seen at Centeotl and Atlaua. . .I relished the distraction.
    “Speaking of abuse,” said Izel, “is it possible to get a better grade of tea in here?” He held up his chocolate-colored ceramic mug. “This stuff is terrible.”
    “No kidding,” said Takun. “A dog wouldn’t drink it.”
    They all laughed. I would have joined them if my face hadn’t felt so stiff.
    “By the way,” Izel asked me, “did you hear about the armistice?”
    “No,” I said. “What armistice?”
    “Among the Euros,” said Quetzalli. “We talked about it all night, I think.” She turned to Izel. “Who was it again? France and Germany? Or France and Spain?”
    “France and Germany,” said Izel.
    “You know how it is with those idiots across the water,” said Takun. “They love to make alliances, and then to go to war over them. It’s their passion.”
    “And no sign of their stopping, is there?” asked Quetzalli, turning back to her monitor.
    “No sign,” Izel echoed. “Not like us, eh? One empire, one people, all the same from north to south. Not a bunch of warrior ants trying to rip each other’s heads off.”
    “It wasn’t always that way,” Quetzalli reminded him.
    “Of course not,” said Izel. “When we were savages, we fought. We killed each other, we took each other’s women. But that was before Cortez.”
    “Ah, yes,” said Takun, “Cortez. The great conqueror.”
    “He tried to divide us,” said Izel, “but in the end he unified us. He gave us a common enemy.”
    “That’s how the story goes,” said