Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(47)

“Sit,” she said again, this time with more command in her voice. And he sat, keeping a distance between them, so much that his left buttock hung off the edge of the bench.

She suppressed a comment.

Xiala said, “You told me last night that the men rowing through the night would be too taxing.”

“Aye,” Callo acknowledged slowly. “They could manage for a day or two perhaps, but a week or more? They’ll wear out. But if no one rows, we’ll be adrift, no more than a piece of rotted wood thrown into the sea.”

“Propulsion, to hold direction.”

“Aye.”

She lifted her hand. “I have a solution. A Teek solution.”

He sucked at his lip, watching her.

“Tonight I paddle,” she said.

Callo glanced back at the men huddled under the awning, their paddles resting unmanned against empty benches while they ate. “How?”

“I can’t do it every night,” she said. “I must sleep, too. And it will not move us at the rate the men can achieve as twenty, when I am only one. But it is what I will give to this journey. For us all.”

She stood, turning away from him, from the men under the awning with their bowls of food, and faced the water. Faced her mother. Not the woman who gave birth to her, but the sea, her true mother. The true mother of all her kind.

She opened her mouth.

And she Sang.

The notes started somewhere deep in her chest. They rose through her throat, tripped delicately across her tongue, and flowed from her lips like the sounds of the ocean itself. She had picked a simple Song, one from her childhood, a gentle call to the sea, asking it to keep her safe and take her to distant shores. She improvised as she Sang, reminding the sea that they were kin, that the waves were her brothers and the salty brine her sister. That the animals that lived below the surface and swam the waters were her cousins, and that family helped family.

And her mother responded. Almost unnoticeable at first, but then they were moving. Callo gripped the side of the canoe, eyes wide in awe.

She Sang more, letting the Song build. Louder, but still gentle. A petition, not a command. And when she felt secure that they were on their way and the sea would continue to move them north-northwest as she requested, she let her voice trail off with an outro of gratitude.

It was done. She swayed on her feet. Dropped heavily to the bench. She floated somewhere between exhaustion and exultation. She rarely let herself use her Song, and she had never Sung quite like that. The melody she had pulled from her past, and the words she had improvised, but what drove the Song was the emotion of it, the sincerity of her belief. And for a few moments, she had let herself believe entirely.

She turned back to Callo only to find the whole crew standing beside him, watching her. Her heart sped up, and she braced herself. It was one thing to have a Teek captain, another to have her use her magic, even if it was for your benefit. She didn’t wholly trust the crew to accept it, despite how well they had handled all the other strange events of the voyage.

But there was no anger, no fear.

Just reverent faces, even Callo’s.

She said, “I promised you the Tovasheh in sixteen days. You give everything you have, and I will give everything I have. That is the deal.”

“Teek,” Callo said, respect, finally, in his voice.

“Teek,” the crew echoed with the same wonder.

She grinned. Gave them a small nod of acknowledgment.

“Now rest,” she said, waving them away with a tired hand. “Don’t waste my work. My Song will push us forward until sunrise, and then some of you bastards will have to row.”

“I’ll take first shift,” Loob offered happily.

“Aye,” said Baat. “I’ll join him.” Others added their voices.

She nodded, pleased. Her eyes roamed over the crew. One face missing. Patu. Where was her cook? Perhaps still not feeling well, but a thin trickle of worry wormed down her spine. Of all of them, he had resented Serapio the most. But surely Patu would never take matters into his own hands. But then, where was he?

She was about to call for him when she spied the man, huddled well under the reed awning, wrapped in a striped blanket, and looking miserable. She had imagined the worst, Patu a potential murderer, when he was only ill. She whispered an apology to the sailor in her mind for thinking him capable of such deeds.

“Patu!” she called. “You rest both shifts. Someone cover his time on the paddle, and you’ll have extra cacao in your purse come end of the voyage.”

A man with a steep sloping forehead and hair shaved high above his ears offered.

“My thanks, Atan,” she said, remembering his name.

It had been a risk, using her power like that, but she had decided that if she could not have Callo’s friendship, she would have his respect. She would have all of their respect. For as long as she could.





CHAPTER 17




THE CRESCENT SEA

YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

(19 DAYS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

My uncle allowed me to accompany him to the aviary today. It was a rare treat since only the riders are usually allowed, but his mount Paida has found a mate and would be leaving for their rookery soon. He told me crows mate for life, and I thought that impractical and said so. He laughed and explained that they are sexually promiscuous but loyal to their mates and that the two are different. I asked him if crows fell in love, and he assured me they did not.