Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(51)

As the night went on, she took occasional breaks to walk the length of the ship, presumably to check for problems that might arise in the dark. He would count her steps and wait for her to settle back next to him, and soon enough, she would be telling him another tale. When Xiala told him that the moon was setting and he should retire for the day, he was surprised by how quickly the night had passed.

“Will you sleep now?” he asked.

“Once the sun rises and I’ve set our direction for the day,” she confirmed.

“Would you like to share my room?” He meant it only as an invitation to escape the sun, but he realized that it sounded like he was offering her much more as soon as he’d said it.

Before she could answer, he heard footsteps approaching, and a now-familiar voice.

“Captain?”

“Callo.” She stood quickly, knocking her knee against his. She stepped forward to meet her first mate.

And then the two sailors were conferring about wind and weather and other things that were not in his purview. He pushed himself to his feet, pressing past the two with a soft apology, and made his way back to his room without incident.

Once inside he took off his blindfold and stretched out on the reed mat that was his bed. The ship rocked gently below him. Voices, sleepy and low, filtered through his walls as Callo roused the crew for first shift.

Serapio smiled, content. He traced his finger over one half of the sky that Xiala had drawn on his opposite hand, again and again, until he fell asleep.





CHAPTER 18




CITY OF TOVA

YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

(13 DAYS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

There will always be those who urge you to war. Interrogate their objective. If you find that it is peace, then consider war as a means to an end; if their end is only more war, send them away.

—On the Philosophy of War, taught at the Hokaia War College



Okoa haunted the halls of the Great House in Odo, his mood as black as the banners that decorated its ash-gray walls. His mother’s funeral was to begin at noon on Sun Rock, which meant he had an entire morning free with nothing to do but brood and pace. He had already argued with his sister about his attire. She wanted him in a long tunic of funeral white, which was proper, but he preferred the panther hide of his uniform, which was also proper after a fashion.

“Why must you always have your way?” she had yelled at him. An accusation that seemed ridiculous as Esa had three servants weaving bits of mica through her artfully distressed hair. Their reunion had been cordial at best. They had immediately fallen into the same familiar behaviors of their childhood, her resenting her brother’s freedom and he, annoyed by her demands.

“Mother would not have cared what I wore,” he countered.

“Mother is dead,” she said flatly.

“Died in her bed, was it, Sister?”

“That again? Of course people will find out she was in the river eventually, but honestly, Okoa, I wasn’t ready to answer the questions that would follow. The curious, the morbid. I only lied to buy us some time.”

“Us?”

“Yes, because like it or not, you are part of this family.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, incredulous. “This family is everything to me.”

“Well, you weren’t here, were you? You graduated the war college last year and yet you stayed, doing what exactly? You never said. I had to deal with Mother’s death alone.”

His jaw clenched, his guilt heavy. He didn’t mention the many aunts and cousins who were here in the Great House and undoubtedly had helped Esa handle the shock of their mother’s death, because that’s not what his sister had meant, anyway. “That’s unfair, Esa. Mother wanted me at Hokaia.”

“She wanted you to train and return home.”

“To what? I could not ascend to Shield while Chaiya was still captain.”

“You could have done something else.”

“Become one of the scions who spend their time in the Maw at the gambling tables? Or in the pleasure houses? There was nothing for me here. I stayed away for the good of our family.”

“Did you? I’m not sure, Brother.”

And the arch way she spoke, the way she could always find exactly the right thing to say to dig under his skin, make him feel shame for finding joy in the thing he loved when he should only feel obligation. He slammed a fist against the wall, hard enough for the pain to throb through his bones and make him grind his teeth. But it felt good. Solid. A physical pain to match the emotional.

“Are you done?” she asked, disdainful but with a small quake of fear in her voice, as if his violence had been aimed at her. It was too much. He fled her room and her judgments.

What are you doing? he thought to himself as he stalked down the hall. She’s not just your sister anymore, she’s the matron of Carrion Crow. And you’re the captain of her Shield. Best start acting the part.

He flexed his fists as he walked, fingers still numb from punching the wall. Frustration and grief warred within him. He had not forgotten the message his mother had left him. The single glyph inked on bark paper, the warning of a life cut short. It had to mean she was murdered, and this farce of a funeral was meaningless. The Sky Made clans would gather to mourn her death in a matter of hours, while one or more among them were responsible for putting her in that river.