Hernán Cortés, the captain general of the Spanish expedition, serves as the primary antagonist. The novel presents him as a round character, but strips him of his historical mystique, portraying him as a provincial, culturally ignorant, and often bumbling figure who is out of his depth. Jazmín Caldera, the most intellectual of the Spanish invaders, sees him not as a grand conqueror but as what he was in Cuba: “an ill-favored and artless son of Extremadura” (6). His ambition is undeniable, but it is coupled with a profound lack of understanding of the world he has entered. This ignorance is most evident in his repeated violations of Mexica protocol, such as his attempt to hug Moctezuma and sit on the sacred throne of Acamapichtli, blunders that expose his group as “provincials, nobodies, hicks” (6) amid the extreme cultural refinement of Moctezuma’s court. These actions highlight the theme of political power as theatrical performance, with Cortés as an actor who does not know his lines or the customs of the stage he has entered.

Cortés’s leadership is characterized by a mix of bluffing, brutality, and a reliance on his translators, whom he fails to understand are manipulating the information he receives. Driven by a simplistic desire for wealth and glory, he consistently misreads Moctezuma’s complex motivations, interpreting the emperor’s lavish gifts as signs of submission rather than a calculated strategy. He attempts to exploit Malinalli, using her for translation and sexual gratification, unaware that she is learning Spanish and developing her own agenda. The novel culminates in Cortés’s complete psychological undoing. After ingesting the “cactus-of-tongues” (210) given to him by Moctezuma, he experiences a vast, hallucinatory dream or vision of the real-world history of the conquest, which bleeds into an accelerated vision of the future. In this state, he loses his grip on reality and becomes a passive character in a narrative controlled by Moctezuma, ultimately leading to his death and the subversion of the historical outcome he expected to author.

As the cihuacoatl, or mayor, of Tenochtitlan, Tlilpotonqui is a round and static character who embodies political pragmatism and institutional stability. He is a seasoned and world-weary administrator who understands the intricate machinery of the empire, serving as a practical-minded foil to Moctezuma’s esoteric and withdrawn leadership. Tlilpotonqui represents the perspective of the Mexica establishment, which is grounded in tradition, protocol, and the tangible realities of governance. He is deeply concerned by Moctezuma’s unpredictability and the political chaos it creates, particularly the emperor’s decision to allow the Tlaxcalteca army to camp at the city’s edge and the mysterious disappearance of the heir, Cuitlahuac. His constant struggle to manage these crises highlights the fragility of the imperial power structure.

Unlike Moctezuma, Tlilpotonqui is skeptical of religious justifications for political action. He views the empire’s bloody rituals not as a matter of faith but as a necessary tool for social cohesion, acknowledging that the festivals, while “disgusting,” (46) serve to unify and placate the populace. His primary loyalty is to the functional order of the state. His relationship with Moctezuma is one of long-standing, if strained, friendship and political codependence. He feels increasingly sidelined as the emperor retreats into his private world, leading Tlilpotonqui to become paranoid about his own standing and survival. The recurring riddle of Quetzalcoatl’s ant, which Moctezuma uses as a cryptic explanation for his actions, symbolizes Tlilpotonqui’s inability to grasp his emperor’s unconventional strategy. In the end, he remains a dutiful, if perpetually confused, servant of the empire, carrying out Moctezuma’s orders even as he fears they will lead to ruin.

Princess Atotoxtli, Moctezuma’s sister and symbolic wife, is a powerful and assertive political agent within the Mexica court. A round and dynamic character, she acts as a crucial link between the withdrawn emperor and the functioning state, often serving as his enforcer and co-conspirator. Before her marriage, she was “the wealthiest and most free woman in the empire” (16), and she retains her fierce independence and political acumen. She is the only member of Moctezuma’s court who is unafraid to challenge him directly, as when she storms into his private dining room to protest his decision to house the Spanish in her former chambers. This confrontation establishes her as one of the few individuals who can penetrate the emperor’s self-imposed isolation. Her role demonstrates that political power is not exclusively male in this society; she operates with significant authority, making strategic decisions and maneuvering within the court’s complex power dynamics.

Atotoxtli’s interactions are consistently strategic. During the lunch with the Spanish, she cuts through the diplomatic pretense to directly interrogate Jazmín Caldera about the location of the Tlaxcalteca forces. She chooses to ask him for this information because she has seen that he was appropriately disgusted by the presence of the priests at his table—reeking of dried blood from recent sacrifices—as well as the self-control to overcome his disgust and eat when he was required to do so. This close observation establishes her as keen judge of character. She also works behind the scenes with Moctezuma, secretly passing his order for a call to arms to General Cuauhtemoc. This reveals the nuanced complexity of her relationship with her brother; she is both his critic and his most trusted operative. Her mission to observe the Spanish horses and assess Malinalli’s loyalty leads to a significant shift in her view of her brother. When she sees the horses up close, she recognizes their immense military value and concludes that despite appearances, Moctezuma is still in control. It is Atotoxtli who recognizes Jazmín Caldera’s alienation and orchestrates his escape from the Spanish, preserving his life because she supposes that her people will need someone to show them how to work with the horses. This action demonstrates a degree of foresight at least equal to that of her brother.

Malinalli is the Nahua translator for the Spanish, a round and dynamic character who embodies the theme of The Slippery Nature of Translation and Communication. Her intelligence, ambition, and linguistic skill make her one of the most powerful figures in the novel, as she controls the flow of information between the two colliding empires. Introduced as part of a “double filter” (7) that requires her to translate from Nahuatl to Maya for Gerónimo de Aguilar, who then translates from Maya to Spanish for Cortés’s group, she quickly learns to manipulate this position. During the tense introductory lunch, she and Aguilar deliberately mistranslate to de-escalate conflict, demonstrating that language in this context is a source of power as well as a means of communication. Her character arc is defined by her strategic accumulation of power. She secretly learns to speak and read Castilian, a pivotal move that positions her to eventually bypass Aguilar and gain direct influence over Cortés.

Born a princess and later sold into enslavement, Malinalli is a survivor who views her role with the Spanish as an opportunity to reclaim her status. She actively works to steer Cortés, hoping to “make him understand that if he played his pieces in the most practical way, they could take a city for themselves” (58). She is not depicted as a traitor but as a pragmatic political actor navigating treacherous circumstances to her own advantage. She endures Cortés’s sexual abuse with a quiet, simmering resentment, murmuring in her native Popoloca, “just wait, son of a bitch” (129), a private vow of eventual retribution. Her interactions with Princess Atotoxtli are a subtle duel between two powerful women, each trying to gauge the other’s motives and potential as an ally or adversary. Malinalli represents the potent force of individual agency within the grand sweep of historical events.

Captain Jazmín Caldera, the primary investor in the expedition, serves as a crucial observer and a foil to the brutish sensibilities of his fellow conquistadores. He is a round and dynamic character whose sensitivity and intellectual curiosity distinguish him from the others. His arc is one of increasing alienation from the Spanish cause and a growing appreciation for the society they intend to conquer. This is established early, when his physical revulsion to the smell of the Mexica priests prevents him from eating, a moment of cultural clash that also reveals his heightened sensitivity. Unlike his comrades, who remain oblivious to the sophistication around them, Caldera recognizes the artistry and order of Tenochtitlan, comparing its palaces to those of Florence and Venice and its urban design to the visionary ideas of Michelangelo Buonarroti. His perspective allows the novel to explore the aesthetic and architectural marvels of the city in detail.

Caldera is more cautious and thoughtful than Cortés, consistently questioning the captain general’s recklessness and insisting on practical measures like checking on the troops and horses. His friendship with Aguilar is built on a shared intellect and a more nuanced understanding of their situation. His transformation is marked by his decision to adopt Mexica clothing, an act of cultural immersion that symbolizes his internal shift. His final act is to abandon the expedition entirely, walking away into the city alone. His escape, quietly facilitated by Princess Atotoxtli, represents a complete rejection of the conqueror’s path and the embrace of an alternative fate. He functions as a counter-historical figure, a conquistador who chooses not to conquer.

Gerónimo de Aguilar, a Spanish friar who lived for years as a captive of the Maya, is the expedition’s translator from Maya to Castilian. A round, static character, he is world-weary and cynical, having already been assimilated into a Mesoamerican culture before the expedition began. His physical appearance, covered in Maya tattoos, immediately marks him as an outsider to both worlds. He is a man of God who has adopted local customs, including the ritual use of hallucinogens, and his faith is syncretic and unorthodox. He serves as an experienced commentator on the events unfolding, possessing a deeper, if more fatalistic, understanding of the cultural and political landscape than any of his comrades.

As the second link in the chain of translation, he is central to the slippery nature of translation and communication. He collaborates with Malinalli to manage information, though he remains unaware of her growing command of Spanish and thus her increasing power. He is frequently a voice of caution, attempting to temper Cortés’s arrogance by reminding him of their precarious position. His warning that “we don’t know yet whether we’re visitors or prisoners” (183) encapsulates the profound uncertainty of their situation. Aguilar’s role is that of a weary witness, a man who has already seen one world collapse and now watches another collision with a sense of detached resignation.

General Cuauhtemoc is Moctezuma’s nephew and son-in-law, representing the unyielding warrior ethos of the Mexica elite. He is a flat and static character, defined almost entirely by his martial discipline and fierce loyalty to the empire. He is introduced as a figure of immediate physical threat, ready to kill Cortés for a breach of protocol. Described as a “mountain of muscle” (108) who is “only feared” (112), Cuauhtemoc is an enigmatic and intimidating presence. He speaks little and acts as a silent enforcer of the emperor’s will, issuing the call to arms on Moctezuma’s behalf. He embodies the physical power of the empire, a stark contrast to Moctezuma’s more cerebral and spiritual form of authority.

As Cortés’s cousin and second-in-command, Pedro de Alvarado is a flat, static character who represents the most crude and brutal aspects of the Spanish expedition. He is characterized by his vulgarity and thoughtlessness, epitomized by his resting his muddy boots on the pristine white cushions of Axayacatl’s palace. His primary function in the narrative is to serve as a coarse and violent counterpoint to more reflective characters like Caldera. His insecurity about his position, which he constantly shores up by referencing his kinship with Cortés, underscores his lack of substance. In Cortés’s final, hallucinatory dream (as in real-world historical records), Alvarado oversees the massacre that precipitates the Spaniards’ expulsion from Tenochtitlan. In the dream, he is also the one who stabs the captive Moctezuma, an imagined act consistent with his historical reputation and his characterization as recklessly violent.