107

"Exactly the reason we are here dear Atl. Now please say nothing. I need you to stand behind me and act as soldier-like as you can. They will not be able to understand you, nor will you be able to understand them, but I cannot allow them to learn anything from you."

With that Meztli stepped off of the bottom step and into a brightly lit hallway. There were two guards lazily seating upon to chair. They had been talking and failed to notice the arrival of Atl and Meztli. Ten cells lined the hallway, each large enough for ten men. One could look into the cells through metal cars that formed a hatch pattern. Through the squares between the bars a hand could fit but not much else.

The prisoners in the cells were speaking, a strange clipped cadence that Atl had heard before but there was something different about it. Something in the extended gaps between the words and their harsh beginnings. The clipped cadence of horses in a light trot. Meztli held up his hand and Atl stopped watching as the Tlatoani's head cocked slightly to the left.

Atl could see, from where he stood still cloaked in the stairwell's shadows, light spilling from four of the cells. The first to on each side were well lit, their light greater than that of the hallways so that two competing shadows were being thrown, that of the hallway and that of the four cells.

In the first cell on the left Atl coud see two hands that were clasped between the bars. A man's hands, and on the arms rich red velvet sleeves hung down at the elbows. The cuffs of the sleeves were adorned in golden embroidery, patterns mimicking vines and leaves. There was a dark black band that ran the length of the cuff as it drooped in a long tear-drop shape. From the rhythmic pumping of the joined hands Atl could tell that this was the man speaking at the moment.

The voices stopped and the Tlatoani nodded and strode into the room.

"Guards please leave us."

The two guards jumped to their feet and hastily saluted Meztli and hurried up the stairs. Meztli walked forwards, the heels of his boots echoing the in the stoney silence of the hallway. Atl followed him into the light keeping his face level as he attempted to see the prisoners in the cells. Meztli turned to face the cell of the man whom had been talking. He gestured with his right hand slightly indicating that Atl was to stand behind him and on his right side. The Tlatoani bowed his head forward in the slighted indication of respect and began to speak.

He spoke in the clipped harsh tones of the foreigners with surprising fluency but Alt could hear a smoothness to his cadence that reminded him of the priests in the spring planting blessings for Quetzal. The rhythmic undulations of the language of Quetzal were here Atl realized. The language spoken only by those ordained to the highest orders of Quetzal could speak the language. The meanings were known well enough but the subtleties were lost as the prayers from the priests were never written down.