Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(10)

Her promise to her brothers had not come to fruition, of course. Not only because the riders of the great Sky Made clans’ beasts were lords even among the scions and specially chosen from their clans to train for years before they were allowed mounts, but also because by the time Naranpa did leave her home and move to Otsa to become not just a servant, although she had been that, and not just a dedicant, although she was that, too, but the Sun Priest, its highest honor… by that time, her older brother was dead and her younger brother dead in spirit. She was not sure of her parents’ final fates, but she assumed them dead, too. She had never gone back to find out.

Because her father had been right. The truth was that as much as she loved the city, the city did not love her back. It had little use for a Maw beggar girl; some use for a clever servant who caught the attention of the aging and eccentric Sun Priest; more use for an unlikely dedicant who had an uncanny ability to read the stars and outshine her society classmates; and a final and blistering use for an idealistic young Sun Priest who thought she could make a change to her beloved city but instead only made enemies.

Again and again, Tova forced her to earn its regard, and she had done so every time. She comforted herself with the fact that she had not done it for glory, or for power, but for the worst reason of all.

Faith. Faith in this place she called her home.

But, she thought as she lay under the witch’s blanket plagued by memories of her childhood and her foolish fantasies, blood drying on her skin and salt burning her mouth, faith is not going to save me now.





CHAPTER 4




CITY OF TOVA

YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

(20 DAYS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

It is declared that all roads both on Earth and in Sky converge at the Celestial Tower in Tova. It is declared to be the sacred duty of the Watchers of the Tower to maintain the Balance between what is above us and what is below. It is they who shall study the patterns of Sun and Moon and prophesy accordingly; they who shall ensure that the Rain falls and the Maize grows; they who shall raise up Reason and Science and labor to cast down the bloodthirsty gods of old. If they fail in their Task, all know that War may come again, and the people will suffer. But the Watchers will suffer worst of all, for they will be the first to Die.

—“On the Responsibility of the Watchers,” from the signing of the Treaty of Hokaia and the investiture of the Sun Priest, Year 1 of the Sun



Naranpa had forced the priesthood to gather at the foot of the bridge to Odo at sunrise, and no one was happy about it. She could hear the grumbling and the foul-mouthed cursing, unseemly for such a gathering. Someone was complaining that there was no hot breakfast, and how were they supposed to walk the length of the city with no hot breakfast? She wanted to smack them. Or at least yell at them to toughen up. The Shuttering was supposed to begin tomorrow, twenty days of fasting and penance to prepare the way for the return of the sun upon the winter solstice. How did these dedicants think they would survive Shuttering if they were whining about not getting breakfast?

“It will be a wonder the sun wants to return at all with all this complaining,” she said under her breath, loud enough for immediate company to hear, but no one else.

To be fair, the morning had dawned bitter cold, a sure sign the winter solstice was only days away. Priests and dedicants alike had donned fur cloaks and wool leggings in addition to their priestly vestments. They had even traded sandals for cured-hide boots. Even so, Naranpa had no doubt that by the end of the day, they would all be frozen as solid as one of the icicles that dangled from the top of the celestial tower.

Still not a reason to complain. There was nobility in suffering. It built character. Or at least she hoped it did. She supposed they would all find out soon enough.

“This procession is a fine idea, Naranpa,” Haisan said good-naturedly as he joined Naranpa at the head of the gathered group. “Let us hope for a good showing from the Sky Made for the Day of Shuttering.”

“Your mask, Haisan,” Naranpa reminded the old priest. At least he was trying. He was ta dissa—the head of the historical records society—which made him a scholar and respected, but he was sometimes forgetful about the practical things.

“Oh!” Haisan patted the pockets of his robe, becoming increasingly distressed, until he finally reached under the folds of the great bearskin he wore and produced a black mask, tiny pinpricks of stars dotting the forehead and cheeks. With a small embarrassed smile, he pulled it over his face.

She cast a quick glance at her other two priestly companions. Abah, who was seegi and head of the healing society, and Iktan who was tsiyo, a knife, and head of that society. Both were masked and waiting, Abah in her white mantle and matching dress and furs and Iktan in a mask of solid red and a long skirt, both the color of sunset and the brightness of new blood.

Naranpa was hawaa, head of the oracle society. Her own mask was the sun, as vividly yellow as the belted dress she wore under her fur-lined dawn cloak. The mask was a mosaic made of long thin bars of gold, complemented by slim fingers of hammered metal radiating out like sunlight from shoulder to shoulder. She wore it with honor, always, but today with a sense of dread, too.

“I still don’t see why we have to do this,” Abah said, leaning close to whisper to Iktan, but Naranpa heard her all the same. Abah was young, the youngest of all four of them. She had risen to the head of her society when her mentor had unexpectedly died last spring. Naranpa had risen a few months after her for the same reason, but she was at least fifteen years older than the girl. Which meant at least a dozen years more experience, even if Abah had been granted her status before her.