Cooked flesh. Skies, she had killed a man. No, not a man. Her brother’s murderer.
It was a strange comfort, if a comfort at all. She had never wanted to take a life, even for vengeance. She felt lost, unsure of who she was supposed to be. All her plans of only hours ago were destroyed as if they had never been. Her imagined future lay like ash on her tongue.
“Where is Nuuma?” she asked, suddenly remembering why they were all here.
“Fled.” Okoa had come to kneel beside her. His expression was wary but unafraid, as if he had seen worse and expected to see worse again in the future. “Her captain is dead.” His voice had a strange hitch to it.
She nodded, because she was not sure what else to do.
She became aware of someone else hovering on her other side. Sedaysa. “What happened?” Naranpa asked. She meant why. Why had Pasko betrayed them?
Mercifully, Sedaysa understood. “He asked me earlier if there was any gift great enough to buy my soul. I told him Denaochi had already given that to me, long ago. He nodded, as if he understood. I should have known then that something was amiss. There is only one thing he wanted in all the world, only one thing that would have made him turn traitor, and that was vengeance against the man who killed his brother. Golden Eagle must have given him that. And in exchange for the scion’s life, he agreed to take yours.”
He must have known that even if he succeeded in killing her, Denaochi would have hunted him down. Why do it? Why pay such a price?
“His demons are quieted.” Amalq joined Sedaysa, her face wet with tears. Tears for Pasko or Denaochi? Maybe both.
“We should leave this place,” Ieyoue suggested gently.
“The Agave is not far.” Sedaysa stepped forward. “You are welcome to continue your talk there.” Her voice was steady, but it had lost its smoky charm and was raw with grief. She had loved Denaochi, too.
See, Brother, Naranpa thought. Zataya, Sedaysa, your foolish older sister. You were well loved after all.
“Go,” Naranpa said, voice subdued. “I need to take care of Ochi.”
Ieyoue exhaled softly. “He’s gone, Naranpa. There is nothing to do for him now, and the living of Tova still need you.”
Tova. Thrice-damned Tova. She knew now that the city would take and take from her until there was nothing left. How could she hate something and love it all at once? “If you cannot help me, go.”
“I will help you.” Zataya pushed her way forward to join her. She grasped Naranpa’s hand, still coated with Denaochi’s blood.
“I will help you, too.” That was Sedaysa.
“I will take the others to the Agave,” Amalq offered. “Come join us when you are able.”
She stepped forward to usher the Sky Made up the stairs. Naranpa watched them go. Once the matrons and Okoa had left, she turned to the Dry Earth women beside her, and together they tended to their newly dead.
CHAPTER 25
THE MERIDIAN GRASSLANDS
YEAR 1 OF THE CROW
There is not enough water in the Crescent Sea to wash clean a guilty conscience.
—Teek saying
Xiala woke to find a bowl of her seawater broth just inside her door the next morning. There was no indication of who had left it, but it had to have been Ziha. She wondered how the girl was faring and if she had recovered from her encounter with Iktan. She supposed she would find out soon enough once the march was under way.
She drank the broth and then struck her tent. She had been meeting Iktan for breakfast, but today she did not. She wasn’t sure xe would be waiting for her, and even if xe was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to xir just yet. Mostly because she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t know if she should pretend that last night didn’t happen, or if she should acknowledge the secrets shared and discuss them. Neither sounded particularly desirable.
“Let it wait,” she murmured, as she strapped on her pack. As the company moved forward, she fell back to the rear to avoid both commander and assassin priest.
They passed through beautiful country, the sameness of the prairie ceding to soaring mountains that pierced a bright blue sky, their slopes dressed in blinding blankets of snow. Her legs noted the steady incline, and her lungs labored to take in the thinner air. She would not live in a place like this, so far from the sea, but she admired the majesty of it and believed, if only briefly, that gods must have formed it with their own being.
Around midday, they reached a lake nestled in a valley buttressed by mountains, and by that lake was a town. They set up camp within sight of the single-story stone buildings and slanting roofs, and Xiala caught sight of Ziha assembling a group to go to the town and purchase supplies. Another group was assigned to procure transportation down the Puumun, which she could see snaking off the body of the lake downslope and to the east. She lounged in her tent for a while, but the town beckoned to her. She missed people who might speak to her, share the news of what was happening in the larger world. She doubted news of Tova would make it this far and precede them, but she wondered if she might send word back to Serapio. Tell him of what she had learned of a traitor in Carrion Crow, and of Golden Eagle’s alliance with Cuecola. Her restlessness pushed her to her feet, and she donned her blue cloak and ventured down to the town.
It was not much to see, particularly after the grandeur of Tova, but its roads were well packed and clean of refuse, and the handful of shops and houses were tidy and well tended. She spied a traveler’s house, a squat rectangle with an inner courtyard, and wondered what drink she might find there. But the land sickness still lingered, headache never far off, and she decided against imbibing. Instead, she wandered down to the lake’s edge, where a kind of harbor had been built out over the water.
She spotted the problem immediately.
It was the lake itself. More to the point, it was the lake in winter. It looked to be still navigable, but there was a thin sheet of ice along the bank that suggested it would not be for long, although surely if they left now and went east, descending, they could outrun the winter freeze. It had not been nearly as cold here as it had been in Tova, although she was unfamiliar with this part of the Meridian and did not know what the coming days would bring. Xiala imagined Ziha was at this moment rehearsing an impassioned speech about the necessity of taking fifty people downriver and how many craft that would take and at what cost. No doubt the local riverman was about to become very rich.
She didn’t relish the idea of having to turn around and walk back to Tova, but she doubted it would come to that. Golden Eagle had the funds, and in the end, she was sure a bargain would be struck. It just might take a few extra days and substantially more cacao to do it.
After a while, she grew bored, and her stomach reminded her she had not eaten yet. A headache also threatened, and she worried she had stayed too long. She glanced up at the sky. The sun had begun its descent behind the mountains, but a good half hour of light remained. If she returned to camp now, she might be able to eat and retire to her tent before either Ziha or Iktan came looking for her.