Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(80)

“Not much farther.”

She forced herself to concentrate and mark the route in her head, a thing she’d done hundreds of times as a child. Back then, it had been instinctual, but now she found it exceedingly difficult. Before long she couldn’t remember which way they’d come, and she was quite sure she would not be able to find her way back alone.

This is on purpose, she thought, to intimidate me. Remind me that I have no power here. That this place is not mine anymore.

They came to an abrupt halt. “Here,” he commanded.

She peered through the shadows. “Where?”

He gestured her forward, but she couldn’t see anywhere to go until she looked down.

They stood at the lip of a hole. She saw now that there was a ladder protruding from the opening. Narrow wooden poles stretching up to her knees. She would have to sit with her feet dangling over the edge, reach forward until she was almost falling, and grab the poles.

“You want me to climb that?” she asked, disbelieving.

He nodded.

“Is there another way?” She thought of her adventure on the tower wall earlier. After all the walking to get to the Maw, she was already fatigued and dreaded scaling that wall again upon her return.

“I am instructed to tell you that the true Nara could climb anything.”

She barked a laugh. “That was twenty years ago,” she protested.

“Twenty-three,” a voice called, so loud and clear she could have sworn the speaker was standing next to her. “Come down, Sister.”

“Denaochi?”

“You’ve gone to all this trouble to find me,” her brother said, amusement in his voice. “What’s a few more steps?”

She looked at her guide, but he stood, implacable.

A game. Denaochi was playing a game with her. Fine. She would play.

She sat, grimacing at how hard it was to lower herself to the floor with any sense of dignity. She let herself fall forward and grabbed for the poles. Her whole body followed, too fast, and she slammed into the ladder, a curse on her lips. She scrambled until one foot was planted on the first rung. And then the other. The narrow rungs dug uncomfortably into her feet, her climbing shoes offering little protection.

The climb was shorter than she anticipated, a mere six steps down into the darkness. She could still see golden-hair above her, almost close enough to reach out and touch his foot if she’d been a bit taller. There was a tunnel to her right, the entrance just high enough that she didn’t have to duck to go through. But she was short. Most people would have to bend their necks, perhaps even hunch their backs, to enter. He makes them come to him humbled, she thought.

She walked through, but just like the climb down, the passage was brief, and after only a handful of steps, the space opened wide.

She stood in a room bigger than most in the Maw. Certainly bigger than the two-room cave house she had grown up in. It was twenty paces across both ways, and resin lanterns hung from the ceiling well above her head and diffused soft light down into the room. It was spacious and well lit by Maw standards, but still small and claustrophobic to her acquired Sky Made sensibilities. There was a large table that served as a desk in the center of the room, and behind it stood a seat-backed chair of foreign import. A Tovan-style bench sat in front for guests. She sensed more than saw someone in the far corner of the room, seated on the floor. They were hidden in the shadows, clearly an observer, perhaps some kind of security. But she didn’t have time to analyze it further as her little brother, and it could only be him, greeted her.

“Welcome, Sun Priest,” he said, his tone wide and mocking. “I would have had a feast prepared, but I didn’t know you were coming.”

She ignored his jibe. She had expected as much, and likely deserved it. What she hadn’t expected was the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she blinked rapidly, fighting back sudden tears.

She hadn’t seen him since he was six, but she would have recognized him anywhere. It was those eyes. Big and black and liquid, ringed by delicate lashes even now. Her mother had always said Denaochi had the prettiest eyes of them all. He had been a lovely child, but now, as an adult, she could see that much of that loveliness had long been driven out of him. He was lean now, the way the coyotes on the eastern plains were lean in winter. He looked hollowed out, a man of perpetual hunger. His black hair was greased back from his face and razored short above his ears. A long thick scar cut across one cheek from ear to nose, proof that someone had once come close to killing him. He wore a lip plug and matching jade earrings. Layers of jade, turquoise, and coral necklaces looped his corded neck over an elaborately embroidered shirt. An expensive mantle of porcupine quills splayed out across the back of his chair.

“Ochi,” she said, opting to greet him by his childhood nickname.

He stared. “Are you crying, dear sister?”

“It is good to see you,” she said, simply. “I have missed you.”

He scoffed, but there was something rough in his voice. Grief of his own? She could only hope.

“Are we starting our reunion with lies, then?” he asked.

She flinched. Of course, he was bitter. He had every right. She had left at the first opportunity and never looked back. “I truly mean it. It has been too long.”

“Twenty-three years by my count. I could possibly provide you with the exact day count, to the hour, if you like.” He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk before him. “But keeping calendars is your job, is it not, Priest?”