“Then we use him to bring all of Tova under our wing.”
Chaiya’s mouth tightened in disapproval, and Okoa flushed, exasperated. It was treason he spoke now, he knew, but he would not take it back. He still held the bow clenched in his fist, and he slammed it down on the table, sending the remaining arrows tumbling to the ground. He strode away, hands gripping his head in frustration.
“Then what would you do, Chaiya?” he yelled. “Tell me, because I do not know!”
“Do your duty.”
“Duty to whom?”
His cousin’s expression tore at his heart. “If you must ask, Okoa, then I am too late.” He started to walk toward the edge of the lake.
“No!” Okoa grabbed his arm, whirling him around to face him. “Don’t walk away. Tell me what to do!”
“Convince Esa to answer the Sky Made’s missives! Tell her to promise them the Odo Sedoh. And have her arrest Maaka!”
“Arrest Maaka?” The demand set him back. “On what grounds?”
“Have you not seen him preaching in the yard every day? Calling what happened on Sun Rock ‘divine justice’?”
“It is his right. Besides, if you jail him, you will make him a martyr.”
“If you don’t, he will use the Odo Sedoh as an excuse to drive your family out of the Great House. Mark me, there are things you don’t know about Maaka. That man has always hated this family since they allowed the Sky Made to take your father.”
He thought of Maaka’s warning not to confuse fealty to the Odo Sedoh with disloyalty to his family and how Okoa’s father would not make that mistake. There was a connection there, but he did not have time to tease it out.
“Well?” Chaiya’s look was grim.
“I…” he faltered. Chaiya asked too much of him.
His cousin’s look was long and weighing, his voice cold with disgust. “You are your mother’s son.”
The words hurt coming from his cousin, more than he could say, and he lashed out. “First I am my father, now I am my mother. Which is it?”
Chaiya leaned close, finger digging into Okoa’s chest. “I said they spared your mother your father’s fate, not that she did not deserve the same.”
He flinched back. “Are you saying you are glad she is dead?”
Chaiya paled, the color draining from his face.
Okoa saw the opening and pressed. “She did not die by her own hand.” He had never voiced his suspicions aloud, but he felt wild and unmoored, as if a door within him had opened and he could not close it.
His cousin’s eyes widened before he quickly looked away. “Careful what comes next, Okoa.”
“Esa—”
“Esa is innocent.”
“I believe that now, but…” He frowned. “What do you know?”
“I know that only a fool accuses without proof.”
“No, you were going to say something else.” He had seen the moment of panic in Chaiya’s eyes, heard the quick breath that suggested he was nervous. “What do you know?”
“Go home, Okoa. Go back and convince Esa to give the Odo Sedoh to the Sky Made for trial. It is the only way forward.” He turned his back to him and walked to the edge of the lake. He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. A few moments later, Kutssah and Benundah rose from behind the hills and drifted over the water. They came to land beside them.
Okoa watched, his mind turning. “Why are you not angry?”
Chaiya exhaled, sounding weary. “What?”
“I just suggested that my mother, your matron, was murdered on your watch. Why are you not raving? Where is your outrage at such a crime?”
“Your grief confuses you, Cousin. There was no murder. Your mother leaped from her balcony and was found in the river. It was tragic, but considering the shame of your father and the guilt she bore these long years, can you blame her?”
“But you said Esa was innocent. Innocent of what?”
Chaiya paused, and Okoa held his breath. His heart beat so loudly he was sure Chaiya could hear it. He knew something, Okoa was sure. But his cousin only picked up Okoa’s tack and began to walk to Benundah.
“I’ve said my piece.”
“Do not touch her!”
Okoa rushed forward and wrenched the tack from his hands. Chaiya did not fight him. He felt his cousin’s eyes on him as he saddled his crow and set her bridle.
He was mounted and ready to take flight when Chaiya asked, “Are you going to do the right thing?”
Okoa recoiled. He had told the Odo Sedoh he only wanted to do what was right, but at the time, he had not realized how difficult it was to know what that was.
He did not answer, only turned Benundah away and took to the sky.
* * *
It was late when Okoa returned to the aviary, no Chaiya at his side. It was better his cousin had stayed behind. He did not think he wanted to see his face again for a while. What he had said about his father, that he had spoken of his father at all, was a burr under his skin.
His memories of his father were hazy at best, a smear of images from his early childhood. But they were good memories, until they were not. Hours spent in the library, where his father had taught him to read. Long nights hiding under a bench, listening to his father speak of grand philosophies and debate history with his glamorous friends. He remembered the momentous feel of those times, if not the words or the faces of the people.
It must have happened then, he thought. Sometime when conversation became dangerous and someone his father had considered his friend was in fact his enemy. He had no idea what had truly happened, and he suspected he might never know, but it made his stomach knot to think of it.
He was not proud that he had abandoned his father’s legacy so completely, but traitor was a heavy burden for a boy to carry, and his mother had not tolerated any mention of her late husband. She must have feared that people would remember her part in his rebellion and how she had escaped his fate and reconsider. No wonder she was so sad, even to the end. And no wonder she had sent him away to war college as soon as he was old enough.
He sensed someone waiting in the shadows, just down the steps, and half expected it to be the Odo Sedoh. “Who’s there?”
Ituya stepped forward, looking sheepish. “Apologies, Lord. I did not want to disturb you. You looked to be in thought.”
Okoa’s mouth creased with a small smile. “When am I not in thought, Ituya? Is there news?”
“A letter, Lord.” The Shield held out a folded paper.
“Any news of the Odo Sedoh?” He took the letter in hand.
“No, Lord. Nothing new.”
“No sightings? Nothing?”
“No, Lord.”
“What is this?” He held up the letter he had not yet bothered to look at. “Another demand from the clans? Why not take it to Esa?”
“It is addressed to you.”
“Who is it from?” He paused, eyes raking over the letter for the first time.
Ituya hesitated. “It is marked with the sigil of the Sun Priest.”
Okoa examined the seal. It was indeed the Tovan sun. His brows knit in suspicion. “Who brought this?”
“A runner, Lord. We stopped her at the gate. She was no more than a Maw brat.”
“The Maw…” He remembered another letter that had come from the Maw and the Sun Priest. But surely even she was not so bold.
“My thanks.” He waved Ituya away. “And find me when Chaiya returns, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. It’s important.”
“Of course, Lord.”
Once his man was out of sight, Okoa slipped off his gloves, tucked them in his belt, broke the seal, and read. He recognized the style of the script, the shape of the glyphs. They were written by the same hand that had penned him a letter before the Convergence. That message had read, Storm, Betrayal, Friendship.
He looked again at the new message in his hand, so similar, only now it said, Storm, Friendship, Survival, and there was a curving line like a rounded roof and, under that roof, the sigils of the Sky Made clans. He understood what it meant—together, the Sky Made as allies survive the storm.
The note ended with the insignia of a place in the Maw, a column of flowers on a single stalk, and a note that the runner would return to fetch him should he wish to come.