Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(70)

He slowed but continued to the ground warily.

“Lord Okoa,” Maaka said as he pulled the door closed above them and followed down the ladder, “I’d like you to meet the Odohaa.”

They introduced themselves one by one, telling him their names and something of their families, and what his mother had meant to them, and how sorry they were that she had died. Maaka’s wife had made him a place to sit, placed a jug of water at his side that he gulped from unabashedly, and plied him with food. She had said nothing about the broken cup, although by the looks of their home, they did not have a lot of possessions. Maaka had not said what he did for labor, but if his wife was a healer, she must do well. Which meant they likely gave all their wealth away. Esa had mentioned the Odohaa had focused on charity work in recent years, and here seemed to be one funding source for it.

After the last Odohaa member had introduced themselves, the room fell silent again. Okoa shifted, feeling uneasy despite the impeccable hospitality he had received. He knew it was time for him to speak, but he wasn’t sure what they wanted to hear from him. He cleared his throat.

“Thank you to Maaka,” he began, “and to Maaka’s wife.” He had heard so many names today, and the poison, or the antidote, seemed to make his thinking fuzzy. He could not remember her name, and he flushed, embarrassed at his poor manners.

Maaka’s wife smiled. “You don’t remember me, do you, Okoa? We played together as boys.”

Okoa studied her face, trying to remember.

“My mother worked in the Great House. I was older than you, but we got along well, especially at stick games.”

“Feyou,” he said, placing her immediately. “But now you are a woman.”

“I was always a woman,” Feyou said. “I just needed some time to become who I am.”

“Thank you for saving my life. And for the food.”

She nodded. “You owe me a cup, Okoa. That was one of my best.”

“My deepest apologies. I swear I will replace it.”

“All right, Feyou, don’t harass him,” Maaka said, a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I didn’t bring him here for that.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

Maaka glanced out at the gathering and then back at Okoa. “Ashk told me that you refused our invitation outright. I was hoping that if you met us, if you saw who we are, you would not judge us so harshly. I know that among some, the Odohaa do not have the best reputation.”

Okoa said nothing, and Maaka nodded, understanding.

“We are people who believe,” Maaka continued, “and practice the same way as our ancestors practiced. We will not let the Sun Priest take that from us.” His voice shook with passion. “But we also must counter violence with violence. We will not let them slaughter us again. We will fight, Lord Okoa, whether you help us or not.”

Okoa rubbed at his head. The injury on his jaw pulled, and he touched it gingerly. Feyou had coated it with a poultice to draw out the poison, and it felt clammy against his skin.

“You do know the war college teaches peacekeeping?” he asked Maaka. “War college is a poor name for it.”

Maaka crossed his arms. “I am not a fool. I have seen the Shield fight. And the way you attacked me when I woke you.”

Okoa winced. “I did not mean that.”

“No, Lord Okoa. It was good. You can teach us. And strategies against your enemies. They teach you that, do they not?”

Okoa thought of another tactic. “But where would you get weapons? You saw what the blade of one Knife can do to a man.”

“We make our own knives,” he said. “And Feyou can make a poison to rival anything the tower can brew.”

“I cannot convince you this is folly, can I, Maaka? This is, how many? Thirty? Against the tower? Possibly the other Sky Made should we initiate the conflict. It’s suicide.”

Maaka grinned, and the people in the room echoed his amusement in friendly laughter. “This is just our war council. The Odohaa tuyon. They are here to meet you, to witness what you have to say. And then they will bring it back to their own houses to share.”

Okoa did his best to hide his shock but was sure he failed. They had formed a war council? And appointed to it new mothers and stoop-backed elders? Skies, these people were truly insane if they thought they could take on the Knives and the clans and not be butchered.

Maaka tensed. “From the look on your face, I know you do not have faith, Lord Okoa Carrion Crow”—the rebuke was evident in the use of Okoa’s clan name to remind him of who he was—“but we do. It is the most powerful thing we have.”

Okoa accepted the scolding. He did not mean to insult them, but this was ludicrous. “Faith is well and good, Maaka,” Okoa said, trying to gentle his words. “But it is easier you pray for the Crow God Reborn to appear than plan to fight the priesthood. Without a god to smooth your way, I can see no path forward for you.”

Maaka straightened. “We are done waiting for our god to return,” he said. “We will challenge the tower with or without your help, Lord Okoa, and with or without the crow god.”

Okoa met the eyes of the faces that surrounded him. He saw determination. Ferocity. Pride. All the qualities he hoped for in expressions young and old. The last thing he wanted to do was leave them on their own to die.