Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(80)
Yano’s eyes swim with tears. “No, I was the lucky one. I was so proud of him—I loved him very much.”
“And he loved you just as much.” I can’t help but wonder if my brother told Yano how much he loved him. Somehow I think he did. I raise my hand to hide my tears. I start to turn away. But then I catch myself and turn back, my tear-filled eyes meeting Yano’s. He stays with me until our tears have slowed.
The graves are dug on the ridge that overlooks the sea, in the very spot I stood with my brother and Kol to watch for the Bosha on the day Lo attacked our camp. A few of our clan are buried on ridges to the south, but I’m happy Yano and Ela chose this one for Chev and Morsk. This way I can imagine their Spirits watching over the sea, protecting their clan forever.
I don’t see Kol or his family until we are climbing to the ridge. Perhaps they hang back out of respect for our clan. I want to call Kol to my side, to ask him to stay by me as I preside over the ceremony, but I know I can’t. This is my duty alone.
My knee buckles a bit when I see Chev and Morsk both covered in ocher, lying on the mammoth pelts at the bottom of their graves. Both are dressed as hunters. Morsk holds a spear in one hand and an atlatl in the other. Darts have been laid at his feet.
When I look down at my brother, I see in his hand a single weapon—his obsidian knife. The same one Anki stole from him after she killed him. The one Kol reclaimed and gave to Seeri to hold. Chev clutches the knife to his chest, the blade lying across his heart.
Though the drum beats right behind me and the dancers circle right before my eyes, I find my thoughts carrying me away. Maybe that’s what you’re meant to do at a burial, while the drum plays on and on.
I think of my father, my mother, my brother, and I wonder about the clan they share their camp with in the Land Above the Sky. Is Kol’s father, Arem, a part of that clan? Do they all hunt together, and kayak on the Divine’s endless sea? Does the same drum call them to meals? Do they share the same dances and songs?
After the burial, I lead the procession back to camp and everyone descends on the meeting space, tired and hungry. Mala heads into the kitchen and I hear her voice as she offers to help prepare the meal. I hesitate, unsure if I should intervene—I don’t want her to feel she needs to feed my clan. She is our guest, after all. But Kol comes up behind me and touches me on the arm.
“Let her,” he says, guessing my thoughts. “It makes her feel good. It makes her feel at home.”
“She is at home.”
“Is she?” I expect the half smile I so often see on Kol’s face, but instead there’s something else—closed lips in a flat line.
“Of course she is.” I stop. Kol’s eyes are dark. He’s gone within himself. “I want to go down to the beach,” I say.
Without asking why, Kol walks beside me. Together we sit down on the edge of the dunes. His eyes trace the horizon. I can’t gauge his mood. Sad, yes—from the burial, I’m sure. But something else. Lost. Or hurt.
“This view makes me think of death,” I say. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
Kol lays his hand on mine. I turn my palm up to touch his and lace our fingers together. “The first time I stood here was the day we landed, after leaving your camp. My mother was in a kayak coming in behind me. I ran to her, but she was already dead, and Chev chased me away.”
When I pause, Kol doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence, and I’m grateful for that. The sea breeze that’s rippled in all morning has sharpened to a cold wind. Kol moves closer to me. “My mother, my brother, Morsk. None of them died here at home. And before the burial I worried that I would always feel like they were still out there, trying to come to this shore.”
I close my eyes momentarily and I see it, the place my mind traveled to while I stood at the head of the graves and the drum beat on and on. I see again the fires set by my loved ones in the Land Above the Sky.
“But now I see it differently. I see them together in a new place, with a new clan. A clan that includes your father and mine, maybe even Manu and Bosha from long ago. Great hunters, great leaders, not yearning to come to the place they left behind, but instead waiting for us to come to them.”
“So you think that Bosha and Manu—the founder of your clan and the founder of mine—might live together in one clan in the Land Above the Sky?”
“I think maybe they do,” I say.
“Does that mean . . . ?” Kol’s voice flickers like a flame in the wind—faltering and flaring. “Are you thinking maybe then our clans might merge?”
“I think it might be too late for us to make that decision,” I say.
A flinch runs from Kol’s shoulder down the length of his arm to his hand. In response, I raise his hand to my lips. “I think the Divine may have already made that decision,” I whisper, my lips never leaving his skin. Somehow he still understands my words. “I think you and I are already sharing the role of High Elder, with her blessing.” I turn my eyes to his. “We worked together to get our families home from the island. We worked together to fight back the Tama. I can’t deny that our clans are stronger—we are stronger—when we’re together.” I stifle a laugh against his palm. “Even our honey tastes sweeter together.”
Kol turns toward me and there it is, that half smile. He leans close to me, pressing a kiss to the hollow just below my ear. “The Divine has heard my prayers,” he whispers.