"The man is mad, I tell you!" laughed Tlaloc, sweeping aside is emerald-feathered cloak with a flourish as he helped himself to another deep drought of intoxicating liquour – a curious substance distilled from the leaves of cactus plants, invented by none other than the strange kinsman of whom he spoke. "And yet there is method in his madness. In a single night he has struck a greater blow against his adversaries in this city then ever we mountain folk could have in a thousand years of struggle!"
"He is dangerous, and a fool!" growled Xipe, the captain of the guards. A bead of sweat trickled down his dark, smooth face, for this evening in Tlaloc's chambers the night had grown hot and sultry, and his wooden jaguar helmet and fitted body-suit of jaguar skin felt close and clammy.
"Those are dangerous words, for the man responsible for guarding his person," replied Tlaloc demurely.
"And yours are less so?" shot back Xipe. "You mountain folk are not even truly his subjects, for all his pretentions to rule the whole of Mayapan. He may be the god-king of Mayapan, but by right he is our king alone, the liege-lord of Xlantantaca. You folk are but our servants and slaves; or, so you were until these latter days."
"The days of our bowing the knee to you men of Xlantantaca are gone forever," replied Tlaloc, narrowing his eyes. "Am I not the king's brother-in-law, and is not my dear sister his beloved wife? There are few indeed who rank with Prince Tlaloc, Prince of the Clouds as I am deemed in honorific – a fact you would do well to consider before you speak again."
"You would do well to consider that it is foolish to offend a man who commands a company of trained slayers," replied Xipe cooly.
"Your slayers are no threat to me, as long as my sister sits beside the Dragon Throne," shrugged Tlaloc. "You folk have learned a stern lesson in where real power lies – with Conan alone. Well might you be bitter that your lying priests have been exposed for what they are, but you cross him at your peril."
"I fear no man," replied Xipe proudly. "Not even Conan, outlander and barbarian that he is. It is his accursed staff that I fear, that grinning, glowing Crystal Skull of his – and so should all men fear it, yes, even you mountain folk. Your mountain folk might have supplied most of the victims to Kukulkan in years past – but you still worshipped him. He was, he still is, the god of your people. And yet now, it seems his rule has been subverted by that of another god, of Kuthlan, the thrice-accursed beast of the abyss." His dark, smooth face twisted and he spat on the basalt flagstones of the floor.
"Perhaps," replied Tlaloc, curling his lip. "Though our people might do better to demand another god than one who drinks the blood of our innocents."
"And so you would worship Kuthlan?" replied Xipe, genuinely shocked. "You must know the prophecies of what will happen if the sleeping god of the deep awakes! He would devour the world, body and soul. You may think Kukulkan evil, blasphemous though that thought is – but if so you cannot deny he is the lesser of two evils."
"I shall not gainsay you," replied Tlaloc. "It is only those devils on the western coast, the Quechanltni, who worship Kuthlan."
"Aye, and well they have done by it!" cried Xipe fiercely. "Kukulkan's temple and rituals despoiled, his priests murdered, his earthly presence vanished – all at the behest of an outlander, a stranger to Mayapan, who mocks our god even has he claims his throne, and whose power is fueled by that accursed Skull! How can you imagine him to be more than a puppet of Kuthlan? The Quechanlnti must laugh at us behind our backs, even as they prepare our ruin – for they foolishly believe that when Kuthlan rises from the deeps, he will spare them alone."
Tlaloc was silent for some moments. "Well, what you would have me do?" he replied. "You stormed into my chambers some minutes ago, with the look of murder in your eyes, bringing your complaints to me of the desecration of the temple and such. Do you want me to lodge a complaint with His Majesty, on your behalf?" he finished, with a sly grin.
"Don't mock me, boy!" shot back Xipe fiercely. "I was captain of the guard before you fumbled in the dark with your first wench!"
"Then cease your prattle and come to the point," replied Tlaloc more cooly.
"I dare not say my point," replied Xipe. "Rather I put it to you that you should consider the welfare of your own folk if you care not for ours, and whether it is served by having the Feathered Serpent, the King of Xlantantaca, act as if he is a pawn of the Quechalnti and a dupe of their god Kuthlan."
"Your point speaks for itself, and you would do well to say nothing of it to others," replied Tlaloc shrewdly. "Leave me now, and return to your duties."
"But you will think on it?" urged Xipe.
"Did I say I would not?" shrugged Tlaloc.
With a wordless grin, Xipe turned about and headed for the door from Tlaloc's chambers, while the young prince took another draught of his liquor, and kept his counsel to himself.