Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(25)

Naranpa glanced briefly at the dedicant named Eche who was seated to her right. He was one of her favored pupils, handsome if a bit vacuous at times, but his star charts were admirably accurate. She had been leaning toward officially naming him as her successor, as he was the obvious choice. Only recently, he had been late to study, and last week he had challenged some of her weather predictions. Nothing serious, but it had surprised her. Seeing him now, smiling at Abah and then looking back at her as if expecting her to concede to the seegi’s suggestion, his recent behavior changes suddenly made sense.

Abah was fucking him. Naranpa could see it, plain as the moon bright overhead. Which was fine, generally, but not if she was influencing him unduly.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said crisply. “I am able to continue. I would just like the gathered parties to consider my—”

“But Nara,” Abah said, interrupting her, “this attack against you, I think it’s worth acknowledging that it might be compromising.”

Naranpa’s brows knit. “What?”

“This talk you make, of reforms and people and breaking our long-held and sacred traditions? Well, isn’t it possible that someone is trying to kill you for it? And if that’s the case, then maybe you should relinquish the Sun seat. For your own safety.”

Naranpa blinked, shocked. Had Abah just suggested that she abdicate? Hand over the Sun Priest duties to someone else for her own good? The Sun Priest served unto death. To voluntarily give up her place? It was not done.

“I am loath to admit it,” Haisan said, speaking from his seat in the north, “but Abah may have a point.”

Naranpa turned her surprised gaze to the old man. “You think I deserve to die for my reforms?”

“Heavens, no. What I meant—”

“Don’t you have some unsavory connections to Coyote’s Maw?” Abah cut in smoothly.

Naranpa turned back to the woman, her shock morphing to panic. Two thoughts flared hot in her mind. What was Abah doing? And how did she know? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry, Nara,” Abah said, her face the picture of concerned sympathy. “I don’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories, or remind you of difficult times, but your brother? The one who’s still alive? Isn’t he a criminal in Coyote’s Maw? And wasn’t your other brother murdered? I hadn’t considered it before, but isn’t it also possible that what happened today… and before… is related to your family?”

Abah knew of the previous assassination attempt? Did that mean she had a spy among the tsiyo dedicants, too? And now to name it in open Conclave. Iktan would answer for that.

“Both my brothers are dead,” Naranpa said flatly, struggling to keep her voice from betraying her emotions. Her hands she could not soothe, so she crossed her arms and stuck them in the sleeves of her robe.

“Well, we know that’s not true,” Abah countered, stone in her voice.

“It is true to me.” Her voice was cold, but rage boiled close to the surface, throwing off her calm. Bringing up her family? The Maw? It was anathema. The past was the past, and family connections forsaken for divine ones, as Iktan had rightly reminded her only yesterday.

“Ah, perhaps we have strayed from the topic at hand,” Haisan cut in, voice placating.

Naranpa fumed. Oh, now they had gone too far?

“I don’t think—” Naranpa started.

“We can speak freely in the circle, can we not?” Abah asked, voice rising. “We are all siblings here, and none of us a criminal.”

“Oh, fuck off, Abah!” she snapped.

“Naranpa!” Haisan cautioned sharply.

Naranpa bit back a scream. She understood intellectually that Abah had lured her into this fight, she could see it as plain as the summer sun. She knew that Abah, despite her youth, fell squarely into the traditionalists’ camp, but this personal attack was beyond the pale.

Worse, somehow Naranpa had let herself be outmaneuvered by a nineteen-year-old. It burned.

She looked across the circle to Iktan. The real Iktan, two rows behind the impostor. Say something! she thought angrily. But hadn’t she asked xir not to interfere, to let her fight her own fights? And if xe spoke now, everyone would know xe had deceived them. No, she was on her own. And she had to reclaim some of her dignity before she dug herself in any deeper.

“My sincere apologies,” she said, inclining her head toward Abah. “It seems that today’s events have in fact unsettled me. Haisan, if you’ve said all you need tonight, let us conclude this meeting and meet again tomorrow to continue.”

A commotion by the eastern door drew their attention. They all turned, even Abah, who had to crane her neck to see.

A servant, breathing hard and sweating as if they had run up the stairs.

“What is it?” Naranpa barked, temper well frayed despite what felt like a momentous display of self-control. “Why have you disturbed the Conclave?”

“My apologies, Sun Priest,” the girl said, panting. “But there is news. Tragic news! The matron of Carrion Crow, Matron Yatliza?”

“Yes?” Naranpa thought of the thin woman in the black dress earlier that day, dignified yet morose. “What about her?”

The servant hesitated.

“Say it, girl,” Haisan prompted.