Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(67)

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“About your new lover? It’s none of my business, really. I was out of line.”

Xe frowned. “My…? No. The Conclave was concerned you wouldn’t agree to a public retaliation against Carrion Crow.”

“And they were right. I won’t.”

“Any action the tower takes must be unanimous, as you are well aware. So… we voted.”

Her stomach dropped. “Voted on what exactly?”

Xe looked apologetic. “Eche will take over your duties as Sun Priest until further notice, and Haisan and Abah will be at his side to ensure his success. Golden Eagle has already agreed to send in a contingent of household guards to bolster the tower’s security until we can bring to justice the ones responsible for these attempts on your life and to aid the tsiyo in any future action against the Crows.”

“What?” She turned, mouth open in shock.

“I know it is difficult to accept, and we did not come lightly to the decision.”

“We? You agreed to this?”

“We all did.”

She backed away, eyes wide. Looking for some escape. Not just from Iktan and this room but from this moment. Minutes ago she had been weeping with relief to be back in the tower and among those she thought of as her family. A contentious family, perhaps, but hers nonetheless.

Her back hit the wall behind her. Her hands were shaking, and she fought for air. The room spun.

“Breathe, Nara,” Iktan said, voice concerned. Xe reached for her, and she pushed xir hard enough that xe stumbled.

“No! I…” Her voice trembled. “You cannot take this away from me!”

Iktan’s black eyes were unhappy, but the set of xir jaw was uncompromising.

“We already have.”



* * *



Xe left her there alone with a promise to have a servant bring her a meal later on and a tsiyo on the other side of the door. Ostensibly to guard her but undoubtedly to keep her inside her room.

She sat on the bench for hours, watching the sun move across the room. She realized her gambit to restore the Sun Priest’s power had truly failed. In fact, she had somehow made things worse. Perhaps you didn’t want it badly enough, Nara, she thought to herself. Or perhaps you wanted it for the wrong reasons. But that felt like a lie. Her motivations had been pure. She had only ever thought of how to grow the priesthood, how to raise up the people of Tova. And now the worst had come to pass. Talk of retaliation against Carrion Crow, allowing the Golden Eagle guard into the sacred tower.

“It is a path of destruction,” she whispered to only herself. The priesthood had walked this path before and ruined countless lives. Perhaps Abah and Haisan and even Iktan could not see the damage that striking Carrion Crow would do, not only to the clan but to the city, to themselves.

But she could. She had lived side by side with Kiutue for years, had become his pupil and confidante. She knew only death came from death. But what could she do to stop it? She was locked in this damn room with no one on her side and no resources.

Unless.

It took her a day to decide, but once she had, it was not so difficult to obtain the things she needed. Most of them she already had in her room. Warm clothes, a woven belt she unraveled that would substitute for rope in an emergency, an old eating dagger that made a serviceable weapon, and her climbing shoes.

She waited to go until the sky was truly dark and the moon had not quite cleared the eastern mesa. She dressed warmly, thick leggings of woven cotton and a bulky formless jacket with a heavy cowl that covered her head and shadowed her face. She bound her breasts to flatten them and tied up her hair in a single topknot. She slipped thin climbing shoes on her feet, specially made from lambskin and cut to hug her toes individually. They were expensive and rare and were the tools the tsiyo used to scale walls. Iktan had gifted them to her long ago, a joke between them about her childhood spent climbing the intimidating cliffs of the Maw, but she had never had occasion to use them. She felt a pang of guilt that their first employment would be to defy her once friend, but she saw no other way.

She left by the window. As a young child she had loved climbing the Maw and searching out tunnels and secret passages with her brothers. She was good at it—small, lightweight, and fearless. She remembered her brothers’ lessons well: read your route, don’t forget your feet, arms straight and legs bent. She repeated them to herself now and hoped it was as the old ones said: one never forgot how to climb.

She pulled herself through the window, the chill slapping her senses awake. The night was cold and quiet. She tasted snow in the air and knew it would come again by dawn to turn the stones around her to slick ice.

She balanced on her toes along the thin ledge, fingers gripping rough stone. The only light to guide her was the glow of a resin lamp she had left burning in her room. It was not enough; she would have to climb through the dark.

She cautiously ran a hand across the outside wall. The rock beneath her fingers was rough. She found a niche a few paces above her head for a handhold. She wedged her fingers in and pulled herself out and over, finding a place for her foot. She reached again and repeated the process, moving up a few arm’s widths before switching directions and moving slowly down the wall. She was out now, exposed to the open air, and exhilaration thrummed through her body, her pulse loud in her ears. She moved slowly, methodically, nothing like her old self who had fearlessly scaled the Maw. But she did move, and she smiled grimly as she passed a row of narrow windows that marked the third floor. Only two stories to go, she told herself. Nothing for a Maw brat.