The servants hurriedly brought chairs for Anat, Tláloc, and Xipe Tótec, while others carried chocolate, pulque, fruit, and sweets, setting them upon a table. Once finished, they bowed quickly and withdrew from the complex.

  The chocolate was boiling hot—just as Anat liked it.

  “Well now, Tezcatlipoca, you truly know my tastes,” the goddess said with a pleased smile as she savored the drink.

  The king-god of Tula picked up a guava and tasted it.

  “And tell me, Lady Anat, how fares the great El?” he asked, seeking diplomacy.

  “Very old and tired—so much so that I am the one who truly rules the kingdom now. Still, he yet lives,” the goddess replied.

  “I am very glad to hear that, Lady Anat,” Tezcatlipoca answered, forcing a smile.

  “Do you recall that some years ago you were urgently informed that the king-god of this realm was a tannin?” Anat asked, plucking a nanche between her fingers.

  “Yes. We executed that individual at once. We framed him with false charges of rape and condemned him to be burned alive,” Tezcatlipoca replied. The other two gods nodded in agreement.

  “That is curious,” Anat said sharply, hurling the nanche to the ground and cracking the stone beneath it, “because not long ago I saw a man bearing a totema of this kingdom—and looking exactly like that so-called Quetzalcóatl!”

  “That is impossible, my lady! We executed him! I personally oversaw his punishment!” Xipe Tótec shouted, rising to his feet, though Tláloc quickly tried to calm him. Still fuming, the god sat back down.

  “Quetzalcóatl is dead, Lady Anat,” Tezcatlipoca said. “I do not understand your father’s obsession with a mere serpent god—especially when such beings are neither illegal nor persecuted here. Even so, we complied with your request to preserve good relations with your realm.”

  At that, Anat conjured a sphere of communication and made it float above the laden table. Within it, moving images appeared—Rodrigo clad in the totema of Ehécatl, fighting Susanoo, then later battling Ares in his tannin form.

  “Then explain this,” Anat said coldly as the Toltec gods stared in shock.

  “The resemblance to Quetzalcóatl is undeniable,” Tláloc muttered, stunned. “But that is Ehécatl’s totema, if I recall correctly.”

  “If I were less charitable, I would say Quetzalcóatl is alive—in my territories—and that you are the ones who sent him there!” Anat roared.

  “I have no knowledge of such a man,” Tezcatlipoca replied, shaken. “The totema of Ehécatl vanished recently, but not by our hand.”

  “The likeness is clear,” Xipe Tótec said, “yet something is different. His green eyes are not Quetzalcóatl’s.”

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  “Are you telling me the bastard could be his son, or something of the sort?” Anat demanded.

  “Quetzalcóatl was chaste. He had no children. I know—he was my brother,” the Toltec king answered nervously.

  “Then what did you see?” Anat pressed, extinguishing the sphere. “Do you think I am lying?”

  “We would not presume that, Lady Anat,” Tezcatlipoca said hastily.

  “Good. I am a generous and benevolent goddess. I want him dead—and if you do so, I will not carry out my father’s threat. You remember it, do you not?” Anat asked, standing and retrieving the crystal.

  “Yes… we remember,” Tezcatlipoca replied.

  “And what was it?” she asked, smiling darkly.

  “That you would unite the human northern realms to crush this kingdom—and bring Christianity to Tula,” the Toltec king said grimly.

  “And you know what those Christians would do to your people, do you not?” Anat continued sweetly. “They would erase your culture, destroy your civilization, and make your human sacrifices seem a joke compared to the enslavement and slaughter they would unleash.”

  “Damn witch!” Xipe Tótec screamed, drawing his obsidian knife and lunging at Anat. She did not even move. Tláloc and Tezcatlipoca tried to restrain him, but the blade struck Anat’s chest—and shattered as though it had hit solid steel.

  “Still, I bring good news,” Anat said calmly, ignoring the attack as Tláloc forced Xipe Tótec back into his seat.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Anat!” Tezcatlipoca stammered, struggling to hold Xipe Tótec back.

  Anat merely smiled.

  “I am aware that the boy your companions call Rodrigo is now headed for this continent. He should reach Sedna’s lands in roughly two months,” she said, brushing dust from the spot where Xipe Tótec had tried to stab her heart.

  “He is coming to the Toltec realm?” Tláloc asked in disbelief.

  “Is that not forbidden?” Tezcatlipoca added.

  “It is—but those Asgard bastards found a way to slip into these lands and strike deals with that bitch Sedna,” Anat replied, sitting again and lifting a cup of pulque.

  “I knew nothing of such alliances,” the Toltec king said uneasily.

  “Asgard may do as it pleases with the shithole kingdom of Adlivun—I care little,” Anat continued. “My request concerning this Rodrigo is simple.”

  “You want us to kill him there, in Adlivun?” Tláloc asked.

  “Precisely. As for his companions, kill them if you wish—with the exception of a red-haired girl. She is my dear sister,” Anat said. “Capture her and bring her here to Tula. I will take her to my father myself.”

  “Very well. I will personally go and kill him,” Tezcatlipoca declared, rising. “I will travel to Adlivun and deal with them.”

  “He will be most grateful for such service,” Anat replied.

  “And if you are so powerful, why not kill them yourself?” Xipe Tótec snarled.

  “Enough, Xipe Tótec!” Tláloc shouted.

  “If I could use my omnipresence freely in this land, I would,” Anat said calmly, taking another piece of fruit. “But I have Asgardian rats to slaughter as well—those who dared sneak into these lands.”

  “Do you require anything else, Lady Anat?” Tezcatlipoca asked with thin sarcasm.

  “Yes. One last thing—of no importance,” she answered.

  “What is it?” the Toltec king asked.

  “If you ever try to attack or threaten me again, I will erase you from the face of existence,” Anat declared, her voice rising—just as Xipe Tótec exploded into dozens of pieces, as if cleaved by an invisible blade.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Anat said, standing, while Tezcatlipoca and Tláloc rushed to Xipe Tótec’s remains—scattered across the floor in a sea of blood and entrails.

  Anat left the palace and donned her helm once more. The malakim escort bowed in unison as she departed Tollan. Her angels followed her in near-mechanical silence, while gods and mortals alike parted before her in fear and reverence.

  “Th-thanks to my ability, I survived… barely,” Xipe Tótec gasped as his fragments reassembled, his face frozen in terror.

  “She is a true monster,” Tláloc said, still shaken.

  “At least it will be an easy mission,” Tezcatlipoca replied.

  “Still… I wonder where that boy—so much like Quetzalcóatl—came from,” he mused.