Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(73)

But that wasn’t how he looked now. Sweat had gathered at his hairline, he tapped the fingers of his left hand nervously on the edge of the table, and his eyes kept darting between the board, the game pieces, and the dice as if they marked the difference between his life and death. And perhaps they did.

The other player was Tovan, brown-skinned and black-haired. Nose sharp and eyes slightly tilted, hands quick and competent with the dice like he played for a living. A professional, Naranpa noted. One of her brother’s sure things, here to reel in the gulls and line his boss’s coffers.

She moved closer to watch the inevitable, and when the foreign man groaned and swayed in his chair and the dark-haired man swept a hand across the table, she knew the gull had been properly fleeced.

She shuddered, revolted. For a moment she had been caught up in the thrill of it, the danger, just like the old days. But seeing the look on the man’s face, the utter despair as the runners came and took what looked to be his last cacao, all she felt was pity.

“Who’s next?” the winner asked. Murmurs circulated around the gathered crowd as spectators worked up the courage to become participants.

“I’ll take the wager,” she said quickly before someone could beat her to it, and before she could lose her nerve. She watched the man size her up, taking in the cost of her coat, her obviously pampered face and hands, even the way she moved as she took the seat across from him.

She met his eyes, and he gave her a lopsided grin, no doubt seeing through her basic disguise.

“Slumming it, scion?” he asked, his voice a low cocky drawl. “How much did you bribe the man up top to let you in?”

She heard a few laughs from the crowd.

“I’m Maw born and bred,” she countered. “What’s wrong? Are you scared I’ll win?”

A few oohs and ahhs rippled around them. The player glanced up at the balcony. Naranpa followed his gaze. She stared into that nothing, long and pointed, and imagined her brother’s shock at seeing her. Would he even recognize her?

Whatever the man across from her saw seemed to be satisfactory, and he gave a sharp nod to the runner who hovered at his elbow.

“Set the board,” he commanded, and the young boy scurried to do his bidding. He set three small carved figures on the square table. The table itself was divided into sixteen quadrants called houses. Lines called rivers ran at the cardinal points. Naranpa examined each figure in turn before deciding on a small obsidian bison. Her opponent chose a turquoise antelope. Together, they placed their game pieces in the first house.

The runner took the third, unused figurine away and replaced it with a set of bone dice. Naranpa scooped them into her hand, shaking them against her palm. The rattle of the bones seemed loud in her ears. She remembered the words used to start the game, murmured, “May fate be revealed,” and threw the dice, hitting them at a sharp angle against the table.

They spiked, just as they were supposed to, at a respectable seven. She moved her figurine accordingly, her opponent watching. Once her bison was in place, he picked up the dice, shook them quickly, and spiked them against the board. A fourteen. The crowd clapped. His first try, and he was two houses from completing a rotation.

Naranpa frowned. It was unlikely she would catch him. She had to play defensively. She picked up the dice. They were warm against her palm. She said a small prayer to the sun out of habit, although the game they played was an ancient Dry Earth one and the gods who ruled it had no truck with the sun. She threw.

Five!

Those among the crowd who understood the game gasped, and Naranpa grinned. Five wouldn’t catch her opponent before he circled, but it would allow her to reverse direction and knock him from the board. She did so, to applause.

A rush of adrenaline made her flush. She understood why that gull had stayed and played his last cacao, why people went to the workhouse to cover debt run up at the table. Her earlier disgust evaporated in a wave of pleasure at her own win.

The dark-haired man across from her dipped his chin in acknowledgment as a runner swept in to clear the board and move the small pile of winnings to her side.

“Again?” the man asked.

She nodded vigorously and dug into her purse for her wager. But before she could pull her cacao out, a hand came down on the table. She looked up to find a young man blocking her. He looked Tovan, but his hair was bleached and dyed a brassy bright gold. Green stones dangled from his ears. Crescent Sea fashions, she thought to herself. Cuecolan, then, perhaps.

“Boss says take a break,” the newcomer said to her opponent. The man slipped off his bench and vanished into the crowd without hesitation.

“Boss will see you,” he said to her, his earrings swinging as he turned to her.

She started to protest that they’d only played one round and a proper game required twelve, but then she realized what she was doing. The whole point of playing had been to get her brother’s attention, and she had.

She let her bag of cacao fall to her side, glanced briefly at the still-shadowed balcony, and stood to follow the golden-haired man.





CHAPTER 25




THE OBREGI MOUNTAINS

YEAR 320 OF THE SUN

(5 YEARS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

We have become a place of long weeping

A house of scattered feathers

There is no home for us between earth and sky.

—From Collected Lamentations from the Night of Knives