Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(55)
He had taken to the punishment without a word of protest. She knew this thing between them was not over yet. He had powerful advocates, Nuuma Golden Eagle particularly. But he also had made enemies, not just in the tower but in the clans. She felt it was enough to clip his ambition until after the Shuttering was over and she could formulate a better solution.
Thoughts of the Shuttering made her stomach growl. She was, as were all the priests, fasting in anticipation of the solstice. They were limited to a small meal in the morning and one before bed. In between they were only meant to consume water and yaupon tea, which often had emetic qualities when consumed in large quantities. The priesthood stayed inside and in contemplation during the Shuttering for a reason. Being out and active for this necessary but unfortunately timed funeral was trying for everyone.
She looked over at Haisan, just to her right. He had remembered his mask this time, but he looked to be suffering the worst of them all—the lack of sustenance, the weather, and his age combining to no doubt make the old priest miserable. He was buried deep in his bear cloak and instead of standing was seated on a portable stool, head bowed and hands deep in the folds of his sleeves. She thought he might be napping. Well, no one would blame him. He had done the most work in preparation for the funeral. Prepared the songs that Naranpa would recite, reviewed from records the steps of the ceremony needed to send the matron on to the Sky Made ancestors in the proper fashion.
Iktan was at her immediate side, silent in xir blood-red mask. Xe had not spoken to her since their last encounter, either. In fact, she was sure xe had been avoiding her. Oh, there was always a tsiyo at her side, or rather, hovering somewhere close. Xe would never let a personal disagreement compromise her safety.
The truth was, she was ready for their feud to end. She had overstepped, made a crude remark meant to hurt, and obviously hit her mark. She needed to apologize and made herself a promise to do that as soon as this funeral business was done.
“Finally,” Abah huffed. “I’m freezing my tits off!”
Speaking of crude. Naranpa gave Abah a skeptical look, but the seegi just huffed and turned her shoulder to her. Mildly amused, Naranpa tapped Haisan awake. “Carrion Crow is coming,” she told him, as he roused himself to attention.
She turned her focus to the bridge from Odo. Skies, did they make an impression.
The children of the Crow materialized out of the snowstorm like white-clad spirits. They flowed into the open-air roundhouse, filling the benches that had been left empty for them. Most Sky Made had brought twenty, thirty representatives at the most. But Carrion Crow had brought ten times that. They dominated the Rock, and Naranpa felt Iktan move closer to her side, as if sensing her disquiet. She did not mind xir presence.
Six figures came forward bearing the body of the fallen matron. She was shrouded in red and sat on a bed of black feathers that were as long as a human, obviously taken from their great corvids. They placed the body on the low platform twenty paces in front of Naranpa and the rest of the priests and rearranged the feathers so they covered her body like a second shroud. Around her were objects to accompany her into the next life between the stars—a drinking cup and eating utensils, jewelry of obsidian and jade and turquoise, an extra pair of sandals.
Once the body was in place and the bearers had retreated, Yatliza’s two children stepped forward. Naranpa recognized the white-clad daughter. She was tall and willowy like her mother had been, and mica glittered in her fall of tangled dark hair. Her narrow face was painted with ash and carmine, making her doelike eyes even more prominent. She placed something on her mother’s chest that Naranpa couldn’t quite make out, no doubt an object of personal affection.
The son stepped forward next. He was the only one among them who still wore Carrion Crow black, a sleek uniform of panther hide under an impressive cloak of feathers. His long black hair was parted down the center and braided in two rows tight against his head, the loose ends tied with ribbon and dyed red where they trailed past his shoulders. He cut a striking figure, handsome and muscular and possessing the grace of a warrior.
He bent to place a folded paper on his mother’s chest. As he straightened, he looked up and met Naranpa’s eyes.
Fire and fury. That’s what blazed through his dark gaze. So hot it almost burned her. Skies and stars, the hate. She felt it like standing too close to a fire.
Iktan tensed beside her; xe had noticed, too.
In that moment she fully believed Carrion Crow had sent an assassin to end her life.
And then the son was stepping back to join his sister, and it was Naranpa’s turn to approach the corpse. Her hand shook as she placed a scroll of bark paper on the pyre. It was the star map she had divined for the mother so that she may find her way home among the stars and dwell with the ancestors of the Sky Made.
And then there was nothing left to do but begin the ceremony.
It went well enough. Two hours of songs and prayers that left Naranpa’s throat sore and her voice almost gone. Haisan had sung parts of the eulogy song, and Abah, who had a sweet voice that belied her viperous nature, sang a song of healing that had many in the gathering wiping tears from their eyes. Naranpa closed the funeral with a dedication to the sun that did not go over particularly well with some of the Carrion Crow clan. She could feel more than see the restless wave that rolled through the Crows in white, and she was positive she heard a few call out, “Odohaa!”
There must be cultists in the crowd, she thought to herself. Of course there are. Dozens. No, more. She had thought the popularity of the Odohaa, the Breath of the Crow, as they called themselves, was small, but perhaps she had been wrong. Iktan would know how many there were. Xe would have been keeping an eye on them, surely.