Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(29)

Xe was going to leave without saying goodbye, and before she could stop herself, she called: “Iktan.”

Xe paused, halfway gone already.

She wanted to ask xir to stay, to share her bed, if only for a few hours so she knew she wasn’t alone. And to stake her claim, she admitted, to someone she no longer had any claim to. She had no right to ask such a thing, but she desperately wanted to. She had been so strong for so long, and now with the events of the day, she wanted to be weak, if only for a moment. But she would not allow herself even that. So she settled for “Good night.”

“It’s almost dawn, Naranpa.”

“Of course,” she corrected.

“I’ll leave a tsiyo at your door. Take them with you to the meeting. It’s a small thing I ask. For your safety, Sun Priest.”

Not for love, she thought bitterly. Not even for friendship. But because it is your duty, Priest of Knives.

“Yes. Of course.” It felt silly to argue over such a small thing, and she realized she wanted xir gone.

And when xe was gone, she realized she wanted xir to come back.





CHAPTER 11




THE CRESCENT SEA

YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

(20 DAYS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

Only a foolish Teek speaks when she could Sing.

—Teek saying



They had been at sea pulling strong for a good six hours along the coast when Xiala told Callo to lift paddle and bring the ship to shore.

“There’s a cay not far from here,” she said. “You know it?”

“Lost Moth. I know it.”

“We’ll dock there to sup. Give the crew a night onshore while we can.”

“While we can?” Callo asked, sounding surprised. “We’re making for Tova, Lord Balam said. It’s coastline all the way around.”

She could have kicked herself for the slip, but it was time to let the crew know her plans to take to open water.

“And all hands, Callo,” she said, not answering his question. “No one stays behind. I need to have a talk with my crew.” She started to walk away and paused. “Who’s in charge of the galley?”

“Patu. You know him.”

“I do,” she confirmed. Patu was a terrible sailor. He tired easily and was prone to seasickness, but he was a brilliant cook. He had a nose for good fish that rivaled Xiala’s own without the Teek senses to help. And he’d once made a dish with chunks of watermelon, papaya, and fresh seabird eggs that she still thought about at least once a week. But he was in high demand. Every crew wanted Patu. “How’d you convince him to join up?”

“Not me. Lord Balam.”

“Ah.” It seemed Lord Cat could buy anything, but this time she wasn’t complaining.

She left Callo shouting orders at the crew and went in search of Patu. The ship was large, one of the biggest she’d ever commanded, but it was still small enough that she found Patu easily, huddled under the thatch looking miserable.

“I’m on break,” he said defensively as she approached. If Callo always looked a bit disappointed at the hand life had dealt him, Patu looked downright affronted. The man was slope-shouldered and round-bottomed, and he wore his hair cut in a blunt bang across a face with eyes too big and a chin too weak. He wore the same white skirt and sandals as the other men, but he also had a thick rough blanket wrapped around his upper body like he was cold.

“Patu,” she greeted him. “It is good to see you.”

He gave her a miserable nod.

“Seasick?”

He shook his head. “Came in on a ship from Huluuc last night. It was raining the whole voyage. Damn near drowned us, we couldn’t bail the water fast enough.” He coughed wetly into his arm. “But this”—he gestured to his body and the blanket wrapped around it—“is nothing to worry about. I have a chill is all.”

Xiala frowned. She didn’t like the idea of having a sick man on her ship, great cook or not. Illness had a way of taking over, and out in the middle of the sea, there was no outrunning a cough that burrowed into your lungs and kept you from keeping food down.

“Callo approved me,” Patu said hastily at her disapproving look. “Just a rain cough. I swear to the deep. I wouldn’t take a commission if it was worse. I don’t need the pay.”

She relaxed a bit at that. He probably didn’t.

“We’re pulling into shore in less than an hour. Nice sandbar I remember from coming this way.”

Patu leaned over to look past her shoulder at the coastline. He studied the limited landscape for a moment. “Lost Moth. Sure, I know it. Docked there once with another crew out of Sutal. Nice sand. Driftwood for making a fire. Fresh water across on the mainland.”

“That’s right. Can you cook us a meal, then? I want the crew well fed tonight.”

“Lord Balam provided the food. I didn’t get to choose.” He sounded morose. “Said we had to sail today, no time to go to the market.” He stopped long enough for another round of wet coughing, and Xiala waited him out. “But he gave me an inventory. I imagine it’s all maize. Enough for cold porridge in the morning, maybe a flatbread for supper with a little salted fish. Standard fare.” He pulled a sheet of bark paper from a bag on his belt and unfolded it. Someone had marked it well in ink, pictures and hash lines by each. Xiala could not read the picture language of the Cuecolans, so she waited for Patu to tell her what was on the list.