Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(15)

“Skies and stars,” Abah whispered, grasping Naranpa’s arm. “Are you all right?”

Naranpa clawed at her mask, ripping it off. Removing one’s mask was a thing not done in public, but she couldn’t breathe, and there was no one to see but her own people. No, not only her own people. Someone had infiltrated their group and tried to kill her.

“Who was he?” she cried, striding over to Iktan and the dead man.

“You shouldn’t have killed him so quickly,” Haisan murmured as he approached, too. “Now we cannot ask him who he was.”

“Or why he did this!” Abah said breathlessly just behind Naranpa’s shoulder.

Naranpa glanced back at the girl. She had taken off her mask, too, and her face was flushed with excitement. Naranpa had a sudden urge to slap her but quelled it quickly. Abah was young, she reminded herself. And foolish, despite her rise to power.

“There’s no need to ask,” Iktan said in a quiet, measured voice. Xe had just killed a man, had just saved her life, but already xe was as calm as if they were out on a leisurely stroll. The tsiyo leaned down to tear away the man’s robe, exposing his lower neck and chest.

Naranpa gasped.

There, carved into his body and dyed red, was the mark they had seen all morning, on banners and above doors: the skull of Carrion Crow.





CHAPTER 5




CITY OF TOVA

YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

(20 DAYS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

Seek the pattern in all things.

—The Manual of the Sun Priest



The rest of the procession around the city passed in a blur. Titidi was a district of citizens in blue garb and measured celebration, and Tsay was much the same, only gold and concerned with eagles instead of insects. Naranpa didn’t care about any of it. This was supposed to be a day of honoring the priesthood, an acknowledgment of their importance and power. Her power, and the beginnings of the Sun Priest’s return to prominence within the tower. But now Naranpa could not calm her pulse, and every noise made her jump, her eyes searching the crowd for someone who wanted her dead.

Iktan had stayed behind on Sun Rock with a tsiyo dedicant to investigate her would-be assassination. Another tsiyo had donned Iktan’s red mask and continued in xir stead.

“Is that wise?” Haisan had asked, when Iktan first proposed it. “Tradition would have us—”

“Not be murdered in our own city?” xe asked, amused.

That had silenced the scholar, but Naranpa had pulled her friend aside where they could talk privately.

“What do you think?” she asked xir.

“I think you should be careful and refrain from judgment.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing more than what I said. Let me and mine do our work, and I will come to you in your rooms before full moonrise to tell you what I have learned.”

“Iktan…” She hesitated. She felt dizzy, off-balance. She knew her reforms were unpopular with the traditionalists, and Carrion Crow certainly had no love for the celestial tower, but an assassination? In all her plans for the future, she had not foreseen it.

She forced herself to breathe deeply. She would not be afraid, but she would be careful. “Do you think it safe for me to continue?”

Iktan tilted xir head, studying her. Dark eyes bored into her, the scrutiny so personal that she flushed. “Yes.”

She squared her shoulders. “All right. I’ll finish.”

And so she had. But when the last bridge came into view, this one glowing in the sunset instead of the sunrise, and leading home to Otsa, she wanted to cry. She was grateful for the mask that she again wore, happy it covered her face and what must be her frightened-rabbit expression.

Tradition dictated that the doors of the celestial tower be symbolically locked at sunset to begin the Shuttering, as acknowledgment that the priests would stay sequestered until the solstice. Naranpa had never felt so glad to hear the boom of those mighty wooden doors closing. For twenty days, the outside world would remain out and her would-be assassins would remain outside with it.

“A vigorous day!” Haisan exclaimed behind her, and she startled so hard she almost fell. Skies, she had to calm down. “Shall we meet for Conclave when the moon is at its zenith to discuss the protocol for Shuttering?” he asked.

She looked around at the milling crowd. Nervous energy thrummed through the air, the excitement of her almost murder too much for the tower inhabitants to bear. “Of course. I suggest we all rest before then so we will be at our best for Conclave.”

Haisan nodded, muttering a yes, yes, and the rest of the crowd slowly started to disperse, wandering off to their rooms or leaving in search of their last meal on the terrace before the rationing started for Shuttering. Naranpa had sworn them all to secrecy at Sun Rock, but she had no doubt the gossip would spread.

She flagged down a passing servant and asked them to have some of the strong dark tea she liked brought to her room. She knew she should eat while she still could, but she didn’t have the appetite.

Once the servant was gone, she climbed the steps to the fourth floor of the tower and her rooms. She hadn’t thought to have them searched for intruders before she was standing in front of her door, and suddenly she didn’t want to enter. Rational thought told her no one would dare transgress the celestial tower. She was safe here.