Randall Garrett - Lord Darcy 03 by A Study in Sorcery # Michael Kurland

Author:A Study in Sorcery # Michael Kurland
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-02-22T12:28:28+00:00

Don Miguel Potchatipotle stalked down the short hallway to the front room. “You want to speak of me?” he asked, smiling ingratiatingly with his stubby gold-filled teeth. His Anglo-French was distorted by what might once have been a Spanish accent, and was now further burdened with a random tonality and erratic mangling of consonants. Lord Darcy sighed as he rose to greet the Azteque-cum-Spanish grandee.

“Please sit down, Don Miguel,” Lord Darcy said, speaking slowly and distinctly. “I am pleased that your Anglic is so good, so that we may converse in a mutually understandable language.”

Don Miguel’s smile broadened, displaying more gold. “You do me too much of a goodness,” he said.

“That may be,” Lord Darcy said in an undertone, smiling and gesturing to the chair. They sat simultaneously.

Don Miguel Potchatipotle was a short, dark-haired man with a slight pot belly, and a wide, substantial mustache, which was carefully waxed and turned up at each end. A superlative example of the noble Spanish mustache, it was definitely misplaced on the upper lip of a man in the regalia of an Azteque chief.

“How long have you lived among the Azteque, Don Miguel?” Lord Darcy asked, pulling out his notebook and flipping to a blank page.

Don Miguel looked up at the ceiling and muttered to himself, counting on the fingers of his left hand with his right. He went around the fingers several times. “It would be much of twelve years now,” he said. “I am married the better piece of nine years, which is why I am of the Azteque name at the present. My wife is a lovely girl. All her own teeth. Her family is noble—very noble. I am being of much use to them in things European.”

“I see,” Lord Darcy said. “Tell me, did you have to give up your religion to marry into this Azteque family?”

“Oh, no,” Don Miguel said, crossing himself. “Santa Maria, no.” He reached into the neck of his brass-studded leather cuirass and pulled up a small gold cross at the end of a fine gold chain. “I am still good Christian,” he said, “good Catholic. I maybe convert my whole family. It takes time. I go to church maybe two-three times a year. When I can.”

“Your Azteque family knows this?” Lord Darcy asked.

“Oh, yes. It is mutual accommodation. I good for them—they good for me.”

Lord Darcy nodded. It was indeed a complex and wonderful world they lived in. “How long have you known Prince Ixequatle?” he asked.

“Not long—not well. The Prince, he royalty. Prince—you know? I know of him much well. He very serious young man. Going to reform the religious of his people. He pushing Quetzalcoatl, as God Who Help Man. Much like Christian God. Get rid of other gods. Get rid of blood sacrifice. No good.”

“I thought your adopted people gave up blood sacrifice a century ago,” Lord Darcy commented.

“Oh yes, they did—they did,” Don Miguel said earnestly. “But, like hedge magicians back in old country, highly illegal but still being done.

“A real problem?” Lord Darcy asked.

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