Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(11)
“We do this to show the city that the priesthood is still here,” Naranpa said, her face still forward. She didn’t turn to see, and couldn’t have said for certain because of her mask, but she was sure Abah was shooting murderous looks at her back.
“They know we’re here, Nara,” the younger woman replied, a note of irritation in her voice. “They pay tithes, don’t they? Make offerings on holy days? Send their young from across the Meridian continent to train for the priesthood?”
“And they resent it.” Now she did turn to face the other priest. “I want to show them we are not some shriveled-up old penitents in a tower, but a living breathing part of this city. That we are accessible. That we care.”
“Oh,” Haisan said, alarmed. “Is that wise? I mean, it’s very radical, Naranpa. The priesthood has never paraded itself for the city like this. They come to us, not vice versa. Frankly, things seem to be working fine the way they are.”
“You just said this was a good idea, Haisan,” Naranpa reminded him gently.
“Oh, yes. Well, a morning walk. The rest, I’m not so sure.”
“I’m sure,” Abah said through chattering teeth. “And I say, why change what is not broken?”
But it is broken! Naranpa wanted to protest. Else, why fewer and fewer dedicants at their door each year despite the treaty requirements? Why fewer and fewer calls to draw star charts for births and deaths and weddings? Why the rumors of unsanctioned magic in the lower quarters of the city? The growth of cultists to the old gods that they could never quite eradicate? Why did it only seem like the elites of the Sky Made bothered with the priesthood anymore at all, and even their respect seemed sporadic and self-serving?
“We voted on this, Abah,” she said, “and you agreed.”
The younger woman huffed. “That was weeks ago. I had no idea it would be this cold.” She tilted her head toward Naranpa, a sly motion even with her face hidden behind her mask. “If I’m honest, I agreed on a whim, Nara. An indulgence, even, for your sake. I’ve always thought this procession a terrible idea.”
“Of course you did,” Naranpa said smoothly, not taking the seegi’s bait. “But it’s too late to withdraw now. Look, here’s the drum and smoke.”
Abah muttered something unkind that Naranpa couldn’t quite hear. She let it go. She had won despite what Abah might say now, and she allowed herself to savor the victory. It had not been an easy thing to rally the priesthood’s societies to process through the city. She was determined to enjoy it while she could.
The drummer, a woman dressed in the pale blue of first light, stepped forward to set the rhythm. The man beside her, also wearing the same blue, lit the cedar and coaxed it to smoking. Naranpa breathed a sigh of relief as they led them away.
The four priests walked in a horizontal line behind the drum and smoke with their dedicants, counting forty-eight for each, trailing in single-file lines behind them like the tails of falling stars.
As they crossed the bridge into Odo, Naranpa marveled at the view of her beloved city. Tova at dawn was always a sight to behold. Its sheer cliffs were wreathed in mist and its famed woven bridges blanketed in frost, the dawn light making everything glow, ethereal and otherworldly. Behind her she knew the celestial tower stood, ever vigilant, its six stories rising from a small freestanding mesa separated from the rest of the city by bridges. In it lived the priests, dedicants, and a small contingent of live-in servants. It also included a library of maps and paper scrolls, a terrace where they all ate meals together, and, on the rooftop, a large circular observatory open to the night sky.
Home, she thought. A home she loved, even if she wasn’t always sure she belonged. But that was the Maw talking, making her feel unworthy. The voice in her head that reminded her that she was the only Sun Priest in recorded memory who was not from a Sky Made clan. Because while any child of the Treaty lands was welcome at the tower, the heads of the societies traditionally came from the Sky Made clans of Tova. Her mentor, Kiutue, had raised her up as his successor with no small controversy. But there was no rule against her beyond tradition, so it was allowed, but it was not liked.
Under such circumstances, the smart thing to do would have been to keep her head down, follow convention to a fault, and live out her appointment in comfort. But she did not believe the priesthood had the luxury of her inattention. Kiutue had been content for the position to become more ceremonial than managerial, and the power the seat had once held had drained to the other societies. Unfortunately, none of the other societies was much concerned with the world outside the tower. The dedicant Naranpa had watched as the priesthood became more disconnected from the city with each passing year. It was a sorry fate for an institution that had once been the great unifying force on the continent. She would not be idle while her beloved priesthood eroded further under her watch.
As she turned back to the road, she caught sight of a dedicant who had the bridge railing in a death grip. Rather than sway with the motion of the bridge, the dedicant was fighting it on locked knees.
That one is going to make themselves ill, Naranpa thought.
“Lead on,” she whispered to Haisan as she slowed her pace to let the other priests pass.
“Where are you going?” Haisan asked, alarmed.
“I’ll only be a moment. Just…” She motioned him forward, and he did as he was told. Good old Haisan. At least she could always rely on his ability to follow orders. Abah watched her, no doubt curious, and Iktan didn’t acknowledge her, but she knew xir eyes were on her anyway. She fell into step beside the dedicant, who looked up in surprise at their new companion.