Revolutions

23 - Paxilche

The weather mirrors Pichaqta's mood, a gloom that's settled in like the stubborn cloud cover. Washed out gray skies meld with the mountains, painting the city in a subdued palette. Rain threatens, much like tears held back, an act of silent defiance akin to the Qiapu people's resilience.

Sunken shoulders, downcast eyes, and somber faces fill the room, a congregation of muted souls. Once vibrant with chatter and laughter, the inn has become as silent as unworked metal awaiting the hammer's blow. Taqaiu, his frown echoing the pervasive atmosphere, bemoans the patrons' melancholic demeanor and grumbles about how sad hearts are poor spenders.

I stare at the small onyx statue that Qumuna gave to me yesterday, after which he decided to part with some unnecessary remarks that live on in my head. The figurine rests in my hand and looks back at me blankly. Did Limaqumtlia mean for this statue to be found, or passed on to the next Tempered instead of me? What significance does Qumuna actually believe it holds, aside from being my brother's, and now the only item of his that I possess?

"Hey!" Taqaiu shouts at me. I look over to see the heavy set man scowling at me from the back of the room. "I'm going to throw that thing into Xutuina if you don't get back to cleaning up this place!"

Two palace guards enter the room, slouching and dragging their feet as they make their way to one of the tables. After putting away the statuette, I present two chalices of chicha to them, timing it almost exactly when they sit down. They grunt and nod as a means of expressing their thanks, then take two large gulps each, slamming the goblets down while staring blankly at different spots on the table.

I leave them be and carry on with my duties, cleaning up after some mineworkers just left and wiping down any and all surfaces. While I work around the room, my wandering ear picks up tidbits of conversation from guardsmen and villagers alike. Some discuss personal family matters, or vent about an aspect of their job, or concerns about the impending war with the Ulxa.

"I couldn't help but notice that Saxina seemed remarkably composed at the death of Limaqumtlia," I hear one of the patrons say, slurring his words almost to the point of being unintelligible. He's an older man, hunched over his goblet with beady eyes, patches of white hair on an otherwise bald scalp, and whatever teeth aren't missing are brown and crooked. He sways to and fro as he speaks, barely able to hold himself up with his elbows on the table.

"That's the sign of a great leader," his companion says, "being calm during the calamity." The friend doesn't look much better: An angled nose that has definitely been broken multiple times, a chin that juts out prominently, and more wrinkles than smooth patches of skin.

"I don't know," the first one responds, tapping the table with a lone index finger. "It's almost as if he expected it to happen."

I roll my eyes and carry on cleaning, shaking my head at the drunken banter. It's fairly common to hear such rantings, especially after a few drinks, but the conspiracies have been flying wild and freely since the day after Limaqumtlia—my brother—was slain. It takes a lot of restraint to stop myself from interjecting, knowing that, while I may not care for the work, having Taqaiu offer me housing and a job is something I don't want to throw away with petty and unproductive confrontations with drunkards.

I begin wiping the table by the corner where the palace guards are huddled, their murmurs are an undercurrent to the inn's otherwise dispirited banter. Those bronze helmets of theirs, topped with an outrageous flurry of plumage, give the impression of puffed-up roosters gearing for a brawl. They look like brothers, sharing the same close-cropped, midnight hair that crowns their elongated faces. A pair of eyes squint above squished noses, and rugged jaws are set with a slight underbite. My ears have been half-immersed in the clanging forge of conversations around me, but these two men hammer out a sentence that shapes my attention.