She did her business quickly and immediately threw the cloak back on and pulled the hood up. She felt eyes on her. It was the stranger from the fire, the one who had known by her accent that she was lying. They were standing not too far away, watching her. She froze, wondering what they had seen. How much they had seen. Well, there were ways to explain her hair—a fashion from the South or some such—and she thought they were too far away to see her eyes.
What does it even matter? she thought, as a wave of frustration hit her. Who cared who she was or why she was here if Serapio was already halfway to the marriage bed with the matron of Carrion Crow? It’s only speculation, she reminded herself. Hear it from his lips, or it’s gossip. And even if it was true, they had promised each other nothing. She had certainly fallen into bed with Aishe fast enough. She would be a hypocrite to begrudge the same for Serapio. Then call me a hypocrite, she thought to herself, because I’ll go to all seven hells before I’ll let him go so easily again.
She gave a nod to the stranger. She would have preferred a rude gesture, but a nod would have to convey her thoughts on the matter for now. The stranger nodded back, even touched finger to brow under their hood. She snorted and started back toward the fire.
Someone bumped her shoulder, and she turned, a muttered apology on her lips. It was the guard from earlier, the one who had passed them through the gate.
“Wait!”
The woman turned, annoyed.
“I… can you… I have something. For the Odo Sedoh. I know him.”
The woman glazed over. “You can leave your gifts at the gate. Someone will present them—”
“No! It’s not a gift. I mean, it was a gift. To me.” She pulled the mermaid carving from her pocket, hesitating a moment before shoving it toward the guard. “The Odo Sedoh. His name is Serapio, and he made this for me. My name is Xiala. I was the captain of his ship. Can you, can you take it to him? Just tell him I’m here. That’s all I ask. Tell him I’m here.”
The woman turned the figurine over in her hand, her expression interested.
“Please?”
She sighed, put upon, but Xiala could tell she was intrigued. “Fine. Xiala.”
“To Serapio,” she called after the guard, who had already started to trudge back to the gate.
“Hells.” Xiala wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing or if she had just thrown away her most precious possession. But she had to try, didn’t she?
By the time she returned, Uncle Kuy and the two women were laughing and sharing stories over bowls of stew. Her stomach growled in sympathy, and Uncle Kuy waved her forward.
“I’ll share what I have,” he said. It was mostly broth now, the bits of corn and squash eaten already, but she was grateful for anything. She had been suspicious of him on their trip up the Tovasheh before the Convergence, when his interest in Serapio had an uncomfortable fervency, but in the end, he had turned out to be no more and no less than he appeared—a religious man who believed he had glimpsed his god. But that did not mean he was not kind to her.
“Your Uncle Kuy told us that you are a sailor,” the older woman said.
Xiala sipped the broth. “Did he?”
“I’m Fress.” The daughter pressed her hand to her heart. “And my mother is Haalan.”
Xiala looked up as the stranger dropped down next to her, holding a bowl of stew. She peered over to see their bowl still full of vegetables and sighed.
“And who are you?” she asked, feeling put out. Threats she could handle, even being spied on in the privy, but getting a better bowl of stew than she did felt like a backbreaking insult.
“Xe arrived just before you,” Fress offered helpfully, “with a group of believers from Winged Serpent.”
“Ah,” Uncle Kuy said. “Even those born to the serpent can see the wisdom in following the Crow God Reborn.”
“Our clans are old allies from the times of the War of the Spear,” xe said. “Carrion Crow were the first to answer our call for aid against the spearmaidens. It is only right that we rally to their side now.”
“A scholar,” Haalan murmured approvingly.
“Well said.” Uncle Kuy smiled broadly. “And what is your name, friend?”
Xiala’s neighbor paused, as if contemplating choices. When xe spoke again, xir voice held a touch of cynicism, as if this were all some great joke no one else understood.
“The Crow God Reborn remakes us all, but you may call me Iktan.”
CHAPTER 10
CITY OF TOVA (DISTRICT OF ODO)
YEAR 1 OF THE CROW
A conflict between enemies may lose the battle, but a conflict between allies risks losing the war.
—On the Philosophy of War, taught at the Hokaia War College
Okoa was deep in conversation when he heard the noise. It started low, a sound easily ignored, like the crack of a flag snapping in the breeze. But it was more rhythmic than the wind, more deliberate, and it continued to increase in volume until it was impossible to ignore.
“What is that?” he asked, cutting Maaka off.
The man had been talking about gifts the Odohaa had brought to present to the Odo Sedoh. Weapons, by the sound of it, and something they had found on Sun Rock that they swore must belong to him. Okoa had been surprised that they had gone to the blood-soaked mesa, but Maaka had insisted it was the place of Carrion Crow’s greatest victory. Okoa didn’t want to argue the point, knowing Maaka’s mind was already set, but he could not agree to giving Serapio any weapons. He was formidable enough with only his hands, as Okoa had discovered. Arming him seemed parlous until they knew more.
Maaka paused with his mouth open to listen. They had stepped into a private corner away from the great room and the crowded receiving area where Feyou, Maaka’s wife, and a handful of other Odohaa waited under Shield guard.
There it was again. More of a muffled thump now, like the sound of something hitting a distant wall.
The two men looked around. Okoa could see nothing amiss.
Maaka climbed the handful of steps up the wide, winding staircase and leaned forward to look out the narrow window. The sound again, and Maaka reared back with a curse on his lips.
“What is it?” Okoa asked, concerned.
“Crows, Lord.” His voice was breathy, and he stepped to the side to let Okoa see.
Below, a mass of crows circled, a black-bodied whirlwind, hammering against the closed doors of the terrace directly below them.
“They’re hurting themselves.” Maaka was at his side again, eyes on the strange scene.
“They want in.” But why? They had never done anything like this before.
His eyes met Maaka’s. “The Odo Sedoh.”
The leader of the Odohaa took off at a run.
“Open the doors!” Okoa shouted. There had to be guards down there, although he doubted they could hear him. He was about to follow where Maaka had gone, when he heard the deep, resounding boom of the terrace doors being flung open.
He rushed back to the window.
Maaka stood in the open doorway, arms outstretched, as the mass of crows surged past him. Okoa could not hear him, and his form was soon lost among the corvids, but his last glimpse of the Odohaa had been that of a man in ecstasy. And that frightened him more than anything else.
The next moment, the birds were upon him. Okoa ducked, covering his head, but the flock hurtled past him, leaving him untouched.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Maaka was back, laughing wildly. “They want us to follow them!”
“How do you know?”
But Maaka was already climbing the stairs, pursuing the flock.
“My lord?”
Okoa turned to find one of the Shield, staring wide-eyed.
“Stay here with the rest of the Odohaa,” he commanded, and then he was hurrying after Maaka. He caught him on the next landing, and then the two followed the corvids together, up to the second-highest floor in the Great House, just under the aviary. The flock streamed down the hall, and Maaka made to follow.
“Wait.” Okoa gripped him by the arm. “This can’t be right.”
The older man turned. “What is it?”
“This floor is abandoned.”
“What was it before?”
“Cells for criminals. With sky doors.” He gave Maaka a pointed look. He had almost fallen from Maaka’s sky door once.
The birds continued their frenzied flight, more urgent than ever. The noise of it made it hard to think. But Okoa could only imagine one reason the crows would bring them here.