Their people had once come from Aztlan—the place of white cranes, the place of white herons. Quenami, as High Priest of Huitzilopochtli, could still walk in the Heartland of their patron god without fear. There were times Acamapichtli thought about chafing over that; war fed the gods and the sun gave life, but without the rains brought by Tlaloc their Empire would reign over a barren pit. And besides, Quenami was far too useless (and cruel, and arrogant, and stupid—did he not think his days would be numbered ever shorter if he continued to make an enemy of Acatl once Teomitl took the throne?) to be as smug as he was. It was enough to make him more than mildly annoyed.
But then he sat on the steps of his temple and listened to the herons calling each other over the lake, winging home to their nests with mouthfuls of fish, and he wouldn’t trade his current station for anything.
Obsidian & Blood, Acamapichtli & Quenami
Their people had once come from Aztlan—the place of white cranes, the place of white herons. Quenami, as High Priest of Huitzilopochtli, could still walk in the Heartland of their patron god without fear. There were times Acamapichtli thought about chafing over that; war fed the gods and the sun gave life, but without the rains brought by Tlaloc their Empire would reign over a barren pit. And besides, Quenami was far too useless (and cruel, and arrogant, and stupid—did he not think his days would be numbered ever shorter if he continued to make an enemy of Acatl once Teomitl took the throne?) to be as smug as he was. It was enough to make him more than mildly annoyed.
But then he sat on the steps of his temple and listened to the herons calling each other over the lake, winging home to their nests with mouthfuls of fish, and he wouldn’t trade his current station for anything.