Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(104)

Another life had flashed before him. One with clan and family around him, one where he called the beauty and spectacle of Tova his home, one where the Teek captain woke in his bed every morning, and they would drink chocolate on feast days and balché on a sandy beach and play games and laugh together. He would have friends like the brothers on the barge, and he and Xiala would grow old together surrounded by children, and he would care for his crows by carving them houses from wood, and the only revenge he would take would be in the pleasure of a long and well-lived existence.

His tutor Paadeh had once told him pain was his only friend, that he should welcome it as a lover. He had thought the man meant physical pain, the sting of his palm against Serapio’s cheek. But he understood now that Paadeh had meant something greater. He did not know how to make the pain of leaving Xiala into his friend, and it sat heavy and foreign in his chest.

He stopped to take the pouch of star pollen from around his neck. He welcomed the shot of adrenaline that spiked through his body as he touched the powder to his tongue. He called for a crow to help him see through the city… and screamed.

Black wings filled his head. A great mind, keen and curious, reached out and touched his. He fell to the ground, heedless of the people who stepped around him, muttering about the Crow who had likely had too much to drink.

His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to burst, and one word came to his mind: Benundah.

Who are you?

He grasped for an answer, but he could not remember his name. And his name was inadequate anyway.

He thought of his life instead. The day on the balcony when he watched the crow devour the sun. The happy brush of feathers against his hands as crows fed from his open palm. Shadow at his fingertips as he called the crows down on the crew of Xiala’s ship.

Grandfather. We were told you were coming.

Who told you? he thought.

The small ones. They speak of a mighty crow disguised as a man traveling toward the City. They call you Nightbringer and Suneater. Is it true? Do you come to eat the sun?

It is true.

Then how may we serve?

I need to see. Will you help me?

The distant cry of a great crow echoed across the canyon, loud enough to be heard over the revelry. People paused, listening, but when another did not follow, went back to their entertainments.

And Serapio saw everything.

He was inside the aviary where the massive corvids lived atop the black rock house. There was warmth and bedding, food and companionship. Rug saddles and bridles hung along a wall. A dozen other crows turned their attention to Benundah, as if they, too, sensed his presence.

How many are you? he asked.

The ones you see here, and many more in our rookery to the west. It is where we lay our eggs, far in the mountains away from humans, even the Crow clan.

I need only you, Benundah, he thought.

Then you shall have me.

She took to the sky, her wings wide enough to cover the risen moon. She soared across the city, lending Serapio her eyes, and he saw the Sky Made districts. Below them in the deep canyon, the river glinted silver in the moonlight. The woven bridges gathered frost that made them glow pale as spidersilk under the stars. And there in the distance stood the celestial tower.

It did not seem so big in Benundah’s vision. A stone roundhouse, six stories high, set alone atop a mesa. Even now behind its walls were his enemies. Part of him itched to go now, to strike down those who had dealt the Crow clan such evil, who had tried to kill the Odo Sedoh’s own voice.

Wait, he told himself. You are meant to wait until the moment when darkness is at its fullest to strike. Do not become impatient now.

He turned Benundah away from Otsa.

Show me Sun Rock, he asked.

She rode the drifting winds of the canyon east toward where he was in Titidi and showed him the freestanding mesa with its four connecting bridges and amphitheater. He saw himself in her vision, a still figure in black surrounded by a sea of color and revelry. He smiled as he saw the path Benundah showed him to the bridge and on to the Rock. It was empty now, dark and deserted under the thickening moon. Tomorrow it would be filled to overflowing with the matrons and their clans and the Watchers and, above all, the Sun Priest.

Snow had begun to fall, only a dusting. But the wind was starting to gust icy against his skin as flakes swirled around him.

A storm approaches, Suneater. It will bring the deep cold, the kind that may kill an unsuspecting crow. It is best you take shelter tonight and tomorrow go to the Rock.

I will sleep on the Rock tonight, Benundah. I am the only storm that matters now, and there is no shelter from what I bring.





CHAPTER 38




CITY OF TOVA

YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

(THE DAY OF CONVERGENCE)

And brother shall not know brother

And take him as his enemy, saying

Your eyes are my eyes

And your skin my skin

And your mouth my mouth

But we have been so long separated

That you do not know me even when I stand before you.

—From Collected Lamentations from the Night of Knives



Okoa stood in the aviary looking out at the three suns. Dawn had come late on the shortest and last day of the year, but when it did come, it was spectacular. The sun, heavy and low in the eastern sky, had split into three, each one a bright flare that burned low against the earth like a bonfire, its flames arcing upward to light the winter sky.