Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(85)

“She wants to speak to you.”

“How does she even know of me?”

Ziha flushed. “I told her. Hurry. She is not a woman to be kept waiting even when she’s in a good mood.”

“And I take it she’s not. In a good mood.” Iktan sounded suspiciously cheerful.

Ziha blew out a breath. “You are not wrong, tsiyo. Let us go, before her mood turns even worse.”





CHAPTER 26


CITY OF TOVA YEAR 1 OF THE CROW

How long will I mourn my father

and weep for my mother?

Is my brother departed

And my sister no more?

Am I nothing but the living

waiting on the dead?

—From Collected Lamentations from the Night of Knives



Serapio stood on the bridge that spanned the distance between Odo and Otsa and listened for Maaka’s approach. He had sent the small crows to fetch the man, unsure after all that had happened if the leader of the Odohaa would come with the information he had requested. But he heard the shuffle of feet and felt the sudden sway of the bridge, smelled the distinctive scent of medicinal plants that clung to Maaka’s clothes, and heard the rhythmic tap of something solid against the bridge, that last thing making him smile.

“It seems you keep having to retrieve my staff,” he called. “I have been careless with it, but it will not happen again.” He had lost it in the yard when he had first transformed, but now he understood that whatever touched his person changed form along with him. He would not lose it again.

“It is my honor, Odo Sedoh,” Maaka said, and he heard true pleasure in his words. “I wish to serve.”

Serapio took his staff, weighing it in his hands and testing the balance. All was as it should be.

“News from the Great House?” It had been two days since his confrontation with Okoa that had ended in him killing two of the Shield, one of them Okoa’s cousin. He had left in a rage, close to killing Okoa himself. He would have hated himself for it, but it had always been his way to eliminate those who threatened him and the things he loved. His first two tutors, the sailors on the ship. Only Powageh had been spared, and even now, he wondered if he had erred, just as he wondered if leaving Okoa alive was a mistake. Okoa had warned him of many dire consequences should Serapio kill him, but that was not what had stayed his hand. In the end, he could not bring himself to kill the man who had nursed him to health and who had once called him cousin. They had been family, if only for a fleeting moment.

“No news of consequence, my lord. It seems there was a training accident at the lake, and two of the Shield were killed.”

So Okoa had not told the truth of what had happened and Serapio’s part in it to anyone. He did not know what that meant, but he thought subterfuge eased his way with Maaka now, so he was grateful.

“One of them was the former captain, a man named Chaiya.” Maaka’s voice was wistful.

“You knew him?”

“He was a boy when we first met, a nephew of the Matron Yatliza, Okoa’s mother. I was close to both Yatliza and her consort, Ayawa. He was a brilliant man, well read, a philosopher. A good friend.”

“Not a warrior?”

“No, but his ideas were revolutionary.”

“What happened to him?”

“Ah…” He heard Maaka shift, the question making him uncomfortable. “He paid a heavy price for his ambitions, for our ambitions, as I was as much to blame as he.” There was something in Maaka’s voice that spoke to grief long held, and regrets, but Serapio did not probe.

“He made a sacrifice for his people.” That Serapio understood.

“No.” Now Maaka’s bitterness bloomed fully. “He was only sacrificed.” His words seemed to lodge in his throat, and he coughed. “But that was a long time ago, my lord. Let us talk of more important things. The Odohaa grow restless for your return. I speak to those gathered, every day. But I am a poor substitute. They wish for the Odo Sedoh.”

“Last time I was among the gathered, it did not go well.” He remembered the desperate prayers, the reaching hands, the overwhelming need.

“A misunderstanding. It would not happen again.”

“In time,” he assured him, knowing he had no intention of walking among the mob again. “But there is something I must do first. Were you able to find it?”

“Yes, I think so. There are local records, and some of the elders remember.”

“Take me there,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with unexpected emotion.

“There is the problem that you will be recognized. Word of your appearance has spread, and it may not be safe for you to walk the streets of Odo without a Shield.”

“Then I will not walk. Go, and I will follow. When you enter, I will know that is the place and meet you there.”

A rustling of robes as Maaka bowed. And then he was striding away.

With the merest flicker of thought, Serapio broke into a flock.



* * *



He followed from high above as Maaka crossed the bridge and climbed the narrow, well-worn steps that brought him back to the main thoroughfare that cut through Odo. In the distance, he could see the road ended at the Great House, but Maaka did not take him there. Instead, he passed through a copse of cedar, turned north, and came out on a hill overlooking the canyon. There was a long, dark stone wall here, and he walked the length of it before coming to a gate and ducking inside. Serapio transformed in the shade of the cedars and followed on foot, calling a crow to help him see.