A week had passed since Tezcatlipoca arrived in Nitassinan with his regiment of soldiers. The king-god stood upon a cliff facing east, where ships would appear. Snow or rain, wind or frost—he did not move, nor did he take his eyes from the horizon. His men kept watch beside him, though being mortal, they rotated shifts.

  The women of the land had gifted them bear and antelope pelts to endure the bitter cold. Tezcatlipoca refused the offering. He remained upright in his customary attire: a vibrant headdress of white and red leaves; massive earrings in both ears; green plumage and white-feathered rattles; a great obsidian mirror hanging from his chest by straps across his shoulders; a loincloth adorned with white feathers front and back.

  He leaned upon a staff tipped with a sharpened point, for he possessed only one leg. Most striking of all was the obsidian blade in his left hand, jagged like a colossal saw. Dark red traces of petrified blood stained its edge.

  As he stared eastward, the women of Nitassinan brought him fish and shellfish caught by the men, and fruits gathered from the forests. He ate swiftly without shifting his gaze.

  His relentless presence unsettled Sedna. She knew her deception could not endure more than a week or two. Though powerful, she also knew the king-god of Tula fed upon human sacrifice, and that such offerings had made him extraordinarily strong. The chances of defeating him were slim.

  There was also the matter of Loki’s supposed escape. Seven days had passed. Tezcatlipoca had granted ten—no more, no less. If the fugitive were not found within that span, the terrible god of Tula would likely retaliate against the small realm of Adlivun.

  Fortunately, he stood alone. Sedna sensed no divine aura among his attendants. Yet if he was this formidable in the human world despite suppressors, then in the divine realm he would be nearly invincible.

  “Seven days have passed since my arrival, Sedna. Have you news of the escaped prisoner?” Tezcatlipoca asked.

  “Great king of Tula,” Sedna replied, still in the guise of an elderly woman, bowing slightly before the majestic and dreadful deity. “We continue searching every corner of our modest kingdom. Yet it appears the prisoner fled through spatial means, which complicates our efforts.”

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  Tezcatlipoca remained silent, eyes fixed on the horizon. After several tense seconds, he spoke.

  “It is not my place to criticize your kingdom’s inefficiencies, Sedna. Yet it is troubling that a single man eludes your entire army. It reflects poorly upon your personnel.”

  “It would be wise not to do so, king of Tula,” Sedna answered evenly. “We all have skeletons beneath our tents.”

  Tezcatlipoca smiled faintly. “I know that phrase—slightly altered. And perhaps you are correct.”

  Sedna exhaled and sat once more. The ruse would not last long. She and her realms—human Nitassinan and divine Adlivun—were cornered.

  Nukilik, Sedna’s human bodyguard and one who knew a fragment of the divine tongue, approached and bowed.

  “My lady Sedna,” he said in Innu. “We have three days before this man and his army attack Nitassinan. At the very least, we must help you escape.”

  He maintained composure despite the desperation in his words. Any visible weakness would betray them, even if Tezcatlipoca could not understand the language.

  That morning, light snow fell across Nitassinan. A gray sky blurred into white mist. Northern winds howled fiercely, bending the pines and trees. The Innu had built earth-and-stone dwellings resembling igloos, though fashioned from wood, soil, and rock to resist the cold gales.

  Maintaining fire was difficult. Many women remained indoors. The men fished despite the wind—harsh, yet insufficient to halt daily life under Sedna’s protection.

  Nukilik, standing at Sedna’s left, wore a moose-skin tunic and dark trousers. He continued speaking in a steady tone.

  “Great Sedna, we cannot shield you from their wrath. You must flee south at once.”

  “I shall not leave, Nukilik,” Sedna replied. “If I must defend them, I will.”

  “Why fight for mere humans such as us?” he pressed.

  “Because it is a mother’s duty to protect her children,” she answered softly.

  “Is there trouble, Sedna? Have you found the fugitive?” Tezcatlipoca asked, turning slightly toward them.

  “Nothing of concern, king of Tula,” Sedna said smoothly. “Only inconveniences caused by today’s fierce wind.”

  “The harshness of this land, indeed,” Tezcatlipoca replied with amusement. “Were it not for these divine suppressors, we would alter this inhospitable climate without effort.”

  Sedna nodded.

  Then a faint sound emanated from Tezcatlipoca’s side. He raised his free hand, and a transmitter materialized—similar to the one Athena had given Orniskem, yet adorned in Toltec style, with skulls and jaguars encircling the crystal sphere.

  The crystal flickered.

  “Yayauhqui speaks. Who seeks audience?” the king-god asked.

  The glow steadied, and within the sphere appeared the face of Anat. Her expression was grave, dark circles beneath her eyes.

  “Tezcatlipoca. It is Anat. I must speak with you at once.”

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