Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(48)

—From Observations on Crows, by Saaya, age thirteen



The man who called himself Loob had brought Serapio his dinner. Loob had a light lilting accent and talked incessantly. He also seemed to be very much in awe of the Odo Sedoh. It was an interesting encounter. Serapio was used to being hated, feared even, but not respected. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It made their brief conversation awkward, and Serapio was glad when the man left.

He felt Xiala’s Song before he heard it, a building of energy like a shift in the very atmosphere. Not unlike the way a late-afternoon storm would build over the valley during summer and release the gentle rain all at once.

He listened as the notes wove around him. He recognized them for the magic they were. He felt vast energy moving, being redirected. But it was different from what he did when he called shadow. Then he dropped barriers, submitted himself to the shadow inside him, letting some of it emerge.

Xiala’s Song was an invitation. An invitation extended to an external power to join with her. Nevertheless, the potential was immense and made him wary, but not afraid. It wasn’t meant for him.



* * *



He waited until he could hear the men snoring, some soft-breathed, almost silent, others with great lumbering snorts that suggested exhaustion. But once he was sure they were all asleep, he tied the cloth around his eyes and left his shed.

It was easy to remember the way back to the captain’s bench, but he took his time, feeling his way in case the crew had moved cargo into his path unknowingly. But the path was clear, and he found her where he had expected to, exultant and smelling of power.

“Obregi,” she said, greeting him.

He had been quiet, so he was surprised that she had heard him.

“I hear everything on my ship,” she said, her voice joyful, teasing. “Especially after I Sing. Is that what you were wondering?”

“Yes.”

He heard her shift her weight on the bench. She yawned loudly and made a sound like bones cracking. “What is it you want?”

“Surely you realize I am Tovan now.”

She grunted, sounding unconvinced. “Both, I think. I think you’re holding space for both in there.”

“The way you do for Teek?”

“Ah, but tonight I am all Teek, I think.” She laughed, delighted.

Her mood was infectious, and he found himself wanting to smile. He did not, but he considered it. “May I join you?”

“Please.”

He felt the bench at his left calf, exactly where he remembered it being from the previous night, and he touched a hand to the wood. It was damp with seawater but worn smooth with use. He sat down gingerly, feeling the moisture seep through his clothing. It was cold, and a bit clammy, but the night itself was mild, a late-summer night that had not yet succumbed to the winter.

They sat together, he silent and she humming softly, a song that seemed to consist mostly of chorus, something easy and catchy. He hummed a bit, too, following along.

She cut off abruptly. More silence until she said, “Do you know that song?”

“No,” he admitted. “I was copying you.”

“Copy—… was I singing?” He heard her moving again, feet coming down off the rail.

“I’m sorry. Did I offend?”

“No,” she said. “Only surprise. It is a Teek lullaby. For you to know it would have been quite strange.” She laughed, and he realized he was beginning to enjoy her laugh. “I didn’t even realize I was humming.”

“It’s the same song you sang at sunset.”

“I… yes, after a fashion.”

“It was beautiful. They talk of the power of Teek Song in the stories but never of their beauty.”

She made a sound in her throat, mildly disapproving. “What stories?”

“In Obregi there are stories of all the places on the Meridian continent. The coastal cities of which Cuecola is the greatest, Tova the Holy City, and all the inland river cities like Hokaia and Barach.”

He could hear her lean forward, the scratch of fabric as she rested her elbows across her knees. “What do they say of the Teek in Obregi?”

“That they live in a great floating city on the edges of the world that no sailor can find. All who have searched have never been seen again.”

Her breath was soft, steady, but it hitched nervously when she asked, “And what happens to these sailors who are lost?”

“Some say they simply sail too far out to sea and cannot find their way back. Others say they find the islands of the Teek, but the lands and their inhabitants are so beautiful they choose to stay and never return to Meridian.”

“Flatterers,” she murmured.

“And others say…” He hesitated, suddenly aware the next part of the story was none too kind.

“Go on,” she urged.

“Others say any sailor who finds the islands is seduced… and then eaten in a great feast.”

A pocket of silence when he was sure he had misspoken, but then she huffed an amused laugh. “Eaten. I like that. Keeps the cowards away.” She clapped her hands together and laughed again. “What else do they say?”

He hesitated, and continued. “The stories tell of a Teek princess.”

“Oh, well, that was your first mistake,” she said, voice expansive. “The Teek have no princesses. No queens, either.”