Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(56)

Later that night, members of Carrion Crow would return to take the body and the burial items to be interred somewhere private in Odo while something of the woman would be burned to hasten her return to the stars. The other Sky Made clans and the priesthood would not be present for that. The public part of the funeral was over.

The snow had turned to an icy rain, and the top of Sun Rock was a winter-locked world. A chilling wind blew across the open mesa. There was no protection here from the elements, no roofs to huddle under or trees or other structures to temper the breeze. No one wanted to linger.

The clans began the procession back to their respective districts over the woven suspension bridges. The bridges had iced over and become treacherous during the ceremony. People were forced to move slowly, and with the biting wind and ever-darkening sky, no one was particularly patient. There were more than a few shouts to slow down, and a small scuffle broke out at the base of the bridge to Titidi. Naranpa craned her neck to see if she could see the cause, but there were too many people between her and the bridge to see.

There was no direct bridge to Otsa and the celestial tower. The priesthood could cross into Odo with Carrion Crow or into Tsay with Golden Eagle. They’d come through Tsay, and tradition would have them return through Odo, but Naranpa could not fathom it. She wanted to believe she and the others would be safe in Odo, but tonight of all nights it seemed like tempting fate. Instead, they had decided to return the way they came, although after the stunt that Abah and Eche had pulled, Tsay did not sound particularly attractive, either.

For the second time in as many outings, she realized she was not safe in her own city.

“Stand back, Crow.”

Naranpa turned at the sound of Iktan’s voice. She was startled to see Yatliza’s son, the warrior who had looked at her with such hatred, no more than a few paces behind her. Iktan had stepped between them, blocking the man, who had been only a few steps away from reaching out and touching her.

She flinched back before she could regain her composure, grateful once again for the mask that hid her face.

“I only meant to pay my respects, Knife,” the man said, his words as sharp as the sleeting ice falling around them. If she thought the look he had given her was hateful, the glare he aimed at Iktan was pure loathing.

“It’s fine,” she said, willing her voice to steady. She pressed a firm hand to Iktan’s back, a request for xir to let her pass. Xe glanced back at her, barely taking xir gaze from the Crow, before shifting a fraction to the side. Still close enough to interfere if she needed xir.

The man briefly dipped his chin, pressing a hand to his heart. “My name is Okoa Carrion Crow. I am captain of the Shield. I am… was the son of Yatliza, matron of our clan. I wanted to meet you.”

Naranpa mirrored his bow. “It is a welcome honor to meet you, son of Yatliza. I know your mother thought highly of you.”

His eyes widened briefly in surprise. “Did you speak to my mother often?” His voice had more than a touch of disbelief.

“Not often,” she admitted. “But we had occasion to see each other. She was proud of your time at the war college and the care you took with your beast. Benundah, was it?”

Okoa blinked.

Naranpa smiled. She had not remembered the great crow’s name until that very minute and had not remembered the son’s name at all until he had introduced himself. But it was worth it to see his expression.

“You honored my mother well today,” he said. “I will not forget it.”

Naranpa hesitated, and, because she might not get another chance to say it, blurted, “The Watchers are not your enemy, Okoa. I know we have failed the Crow clan in the past, but we are different now. We will make things right.”

“Naranpa,” Iktan warned beside her.

Okoa studied her, dark eyes probing. But she was hidden behind her mask, with little of her to see. She thought of removing it so he could see her face, recognize that she was sincere.

“You are not the same Sun Priest I knew before I left for Hokaia,” he said. “You are… unexpected.”

Warmth that belied the wintry day spread through her. She reached out a hand, meaning to grip his forearm in a gesture of respect.

Okoa reached out, too.

Someone jostled Okoa from behind. She couldn’t see how it happened and later would remember only the milling crowd and the bodies all in white save his, but the next thing she knew, Iktan was there, obsidian knife between them, and Okoa had shifted directions, arm thrown wide to strike her or to block Iktan or perhaps stop himself from falling on the slippery ground. The black knife sliced Okoa’s jaw. A spray of red splattered across Naranpa’s golden mask, and then there was screaming and someone was pulling her away and Iktan’s dedicant tsiyos were rushing past her to join the fray.

It was the assassination attempt all over again, except this time she was sure it was a misunderstanding.

“Let me go!” she cried, struggling to break free of whoever held her. The arms around her didn’t move, so she threw all her might behind a jabbing elbow to the belly. The person let out a gust of shock and released her. But she had been dragged too far away, and there were too many people between her and Iktan and Okoa to get back now.

“Naranpa!”

She turned as someone cried her name. It was Ieyoue Water Strider. “Hurry! We must get you away.”

“But he wasn’t trying to hurt me,” she tried to explain. She wasn’t sure how much Ieyoue had seen, if what she was saying even made sense. She guessed it didn’t from the look the matron gave her.