He threw the great doors open, the boom thundering through the chamber. All eyes turned to him, the argument—because surely it was an argument—stopped mid-sentence as he strode into the room.
His quick eyes took in the six Shields stationed along the walls of the circular space and the four people standing at the center. Whereas the walls of the Great House had been left the natural ash-gray of the volcanic stone used in its building, this room at its heart was washed white. It made the place feel expansive, welcoming. Windows too narrow and high for even a child to pass through cast bands of light across ornately painted floors. A built-in bench curved around the entirety of the space, enough to fit most of his immediate family when they gathered here. Now the room was empty, except for the guards and the people clustered in the center.
Esa wore a long, fitted dress, the collar, hem, and wrists adorned with the sleek shimmer of corvid feathers. Her hair was pulled tightly back from her narrow face, emphasizing her large dark eyes. Chaiya stood beside her in the uniform of the Shield, his broad shoulders and muscular build a mirror of Okoa’s own, aged a decade. Over his shoulders fell a thick blanket of grays and reds. It was held in place by an obsidian clasp, but, to Okoa’s relief, he did not wear the single red feather that marked him as captain of the Shield. Okoa was only a handful of days gone, but he had half expected it.
Along with Esa and Chaiya were two of his aunts—women chosen as advisers because they were considered wise. Mataya was the one with the white beginning to thread her long hair, Juuna the one with the square jaw. All caught in acrimonious quarreling. About him.
Esa had frozen when he first entered, but she had already recovered her cool indifference by the time he stormed his way across the hall.
Two Shields detached from the wall to meet him. They locked spears and stood between brother and sister.
Okoa’s jaw clenched. “Move!”
“They will not move,” Esa said, annoyingly haughty, “until you calm your temper.”
“I am your captain,” he spat at the two men, “and you will stand down, or you will see the blade of my knife.”
“They’re only doing what I told them to do. Don’t threaten them with violence.” She turned to their aunt Juuna, voice mild. “Perhaps he has become a beast, as you said.”
“Esa,” his other aunt, Mataya, chided. “It is our Okoa. We do not malign family.” She pushed her way around the guards to hug her nephew.
Esa gave her a withering look and waved at the guards to stand down.
“How are you, Nephew?” Mataya asked. “We have been so worried. When you disappeared, we feared the worst.”
“I am good, Auntie.” He gently broke from her embrace. “But it seems I returned just before my sister bargained Carrion Crow blood for Watcher blood.”
“Your timing is remarkable, Brother.” She proffered a paper to him. “We were just discussing the Sky Made clans’ demands.”
He closed the distance between them and took the letter from her hand. He skimmed the handful of glyphs. A demand for explanation and restitution for the lives lost. A reminder of the old ways, which meant blood. Signed by all three of the other Sky Made clans. It all confirmed what the Odo Sedoh had overheard.
“And your plan was to turn me over to the other clans as answer? Sacrifice your own flesh and blood to placate our enemies?”
“I would have never allowed it,” Mataya protested.
“Respectfully, Auntie.” Esa’s voice was tight with exasperation. “You are here because I asked for your advice. It is my decision as matron, and mine alone, in the end.”
“You are not a queen unchecked, Esa.” Mataya’s words were bold, but she took a step back from Okoa, a clear acknowledgment of Esa’s authority.
Esa did not respond, only lifted her head a bit higher. “As I was saying, the Sky Made clans are not our enemies. Or at least, they weren’t until you slaughtered the priesthood.”
“I…?” Okoa gaped, the anger draining from him like someone had opened a sieve. Only then did he register what Esa had said to his aunt Juuna, about him being a beast. “You think I’m responsible for Sun Rock?”
“You fled after the Convergence. What else were we to think?”
“Not that I am capable of slaughter!”
“You’ve been in Hokaia for years at the war college. Who really knows you anymore, or what they taught you there?”
“All Shield captains attend the war college.” He gestured to his cousin. “Chaiya attended the war college.”
“What we do know,” Esa continued, ignoring his logic in favor of her escalation, “is that you met with the Odohaa after Mother’s funeral, and we know they attacked the tower the morning of the Convergence—”
“What?” This was news.
“A failed few,” Chaiya explained. “They didn’t even make it across the bridge into Otsa. A handful of the younger members had gathered at dawn with plans to attack the celestial tower. But there were Watchers on the bridge, and they retreated as soon as they were spotted. No one was harmed, and their own leader confessed it the next day, afraid they would be blamed for Sun Rock. But we know they didn’t kill the priests.”
“Which leaves you, Okoa,” Esa accused. “The only one seen arriving, and leaving, on—”
“I killed the Watchers.” The Odo Sedoh’s voice came from behind him. “I am responsible for their slaughter.”
Silence fell. The lanterns in the room flickered. The light from the windows, which had been weak before, now seemed to retreat entirely, casting them all into shadow. Esa, always so quick with a biting word, stared, mouth open. The guards who had rushed to block Okoa shifted at their posts but did not come close. One fell to his knees, spear clattering loudly as it hit the floor. Muttered prayers flowed breathlessly from his lips.
Okoa felt the Odo Sedoh at his back, his approach like the roll of a dark tide. He suddenly remembered the warnings of the Odohaa, that the Odo Sedoh was a storm, a force of nature, and Okoa shivered, the hairs on his neck rising.
One moment human and joking, the next this darkness, Okoa thought. How am I supposed to understand this man, this god?
The Odo Sedoh’s warning that the gods were unknowable came back to him.
Cool fingers against his shoulder made him flinch, but he only wanted to pass. Okoa stepped aside.
He watched Esa take the man in. The bloodstained pants, the wild waves of hair and liquid eyes, the brutal haahan that covered his bare chest and arms, and the fact that he wore Okoa’s beloved feathered cloak.
She met his gaze, undaunted, but her voice trembled. “Who are you?”
He heard Mataya murmur a prayer, and Juuna suck in a wet sob.
“You know who this is, Sister.” The lanterns had steadied, and the shadows had withdrawn, but he could not suppress the chills that rattled through his core.
Juuna dropped into a low bow, and Mataya followed.
“The Odo Sedoh.” It was Chaiya who whispered the name, his face drained of color, as if he witnessed a ghost made flesh.
Close enough, Okoa thought. For he is something unnatural.
The Odo Sedoh spread his arms wide. “Okoa’s only transgression is that he took me from Sun Rock and allowed me to recover from my injuries among the crows. If your Sky Made clans seek to place the blame on someone, let it be me.”
Esa swallowed and seemed to rally. “You are responsible for the fall of the priesthood? You alone?”
“The priesthood is responsible for their own fate. I was only the instrument of our god’s vengeance.”
“Our god…” Esa murmured.
“The crow god,” Juuna whispered helpfully.
Esa closed her eyes, and Okoa saw the muscle in her jaw tic. “How—”
Commotion from the hall cut her off.
Esa’s laugh was high and shrill. “What now?”
Okoa gestured for the guards to investigate the disturbance, and they hustled to the noise, slipping out the doors and barring them after they passed. There was shouting. It sounded like a dozen people, at least.
Okoa leaned close. “Can you understand anything?”