Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(43)

“They lost sight of her, my lord,” Ituya said. “She was last seen on the far northern side of the camp wearing Water Strider blue. They called for her, but she ran. They didn’t see her face well, so she might be hard to identify.”

“Hair the color of plums.” They all turned to Serapio. “And Teek eyes, like a rainbow after a spring storm.”

Okoa’s breath hitched in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “You heard him.” He nodded to the Shield. “The woman we search for is Teek, with plum-colored hair and Teek eyes. Find her, but don’t hurt her. Tell her…” He hesitated. “Tell her the Odo Sedoh is looking for her, too.”

A few men glanced furtively at the Odo Sedoh, but thankfully no one seemed overcome by religious fervor at the sight of him. Okoa went to clap a hand against Serapio’s shoulder but stopped himself. He had just been entertaining the possibility of killing the man if he had to. He could not stomach being that much of a hypocrite. He bit his lip, his self-doubt a jagged blade in his heart.

If the man next to him sensed his internal struggle, he did not let it show. He slid by Okoa, pushed open the outer doors, and stepped into the camp beyond.

It wasn’t until they were both through the gates, the sea of people before them, that Okoa saw the problem. From the terrace, he had guessed there were five hundred people gathered in a yard, but he hadn’t accounted for how difficult it would be to identify any single individual in the twilight. In addition, many in the camp were sleeping, bodies wrapped in blankets around low fires. The ones who were awake were drawn to the commotion of armed men coming through the gate, and now the Shield were moving among them, peering into startled faces and rousing slumbering figures. He cursed under his breath. He should have given a different order, told the Shield to be more subtle. Soon the whole camp would be awake.

“Perhaps you should stay near me,” Okoa whispered to the Odo Sedoh. “They do not know who you are yet, but it is evident that you are not the Shield.” He looked at Serapio, the crow mantle on his shoulder, his tousled hair and regal bearing and that sense of something otherworldly about him that could not be disguised. No, the crowd would know exactly who he was. How could they not?

He put his body between the Odo Sedoh and the crowd.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come. It may cause chaos, and if it does, there are simply not enough Shield to contain it.”

He knew the man was blind, but his eyes locked on Okoa all the same.

“This is Xiala,” he said plainly, as if the woman’s name was all Okoa need know to understand. “You cannot stop me, Captain. No matter what you try.”

Serapio pressed past him, moving purposefully into the darkness. Okoa watched him go, watched the heads that turned to mark his passing, and heard the muffled excitement that rose in his wake. And then he was jogging to catch up.





CHAPTER 14


CITY OF TOVA (COYOTE’S MAW)

YEAR 1 OF THE CROW

No truth can stay hidden forever.

—Exhortations for a Happy Life



Common sense should have kept Naranpa in her room waiting for Denaochi to come for her, but Naranpa had never been much for doing what was common. Or sensible, she told herself. Because what she had in mind certainly wasn’t. She knew she should be preparing to meet the bosses of the Maw, but Denaochi had not shared the details of their upcoming gathering, nor had he told her anything more about what would be expected of her. Only that he needed her to win their support, which would be his support, so that when they moved to persuade the Sky Made to side with them, they would already have the resources and loyalty of the Maw at their backs.

She had considered simply going to Ieyoue, the matron of Water Strider who had helped her after the riot on Sun Rock, and explaining the treachery of Golden Eagle and their collusion with certain priests in the tower to remove her, but what good would it do now? Perhaps Water Strider’s backing would make a difference if she had a tower to reclaim, but she was building support from nothing but a mandate, and a tarnished one at that. Faith in the teachings of the Watchers and an adherence to a three-hundred-year-old treaty seemed fragile against the return of a god. She needed more. She needed power of her own, both before the bosses of the Maw and when she finally called upon the Sky Made clans. And the only possibility that came close to that was what she had seen in Zataya’s mirror.

She also thought about returning to Zataya and confessing her strange visions, but the witch’s knowledge seemed limited to Dry Earth magic—potions and herbs—and she herself admitted to only dabbling in southern sorcery. Naranpa was starting to think that bringing her back from the brink of death had less to do with blood and god bones and more to do with whatever power resided inside her and revealed itself as a golden glowing heat. And that made her think it must have to do with the sun god herself. The firebird in her vision, the history of the Sun Priests. They all lived within her somehow. If she could discover how and what it meant, she was sure she would have the power she needed to convince the bosses and the clans to follow her, and ultimately, to confront the Crow God Reborn. And the only place to find that knowledge was the celestial tower.

She was afraid to go back. Part of her feared what she would find there, but most of her feared what she would not. No chattering dedicants, no priests arguing about how best to interpret the stars, no Iktan. No life. She cursed herself for a fool to care at all about these people who had betrayed her, but it had been her every day for twenty years, the family she had known best. She did not doubt it would be haunted by ghosts, and truths she did not want to face would lurk in its twisting staircases and hallowed halls. But as much as the past might hurt, it would not kill her, not like the future.