“I retrieved it from Sun Rock and have not known what to do with it. But I believe it can be used… as a weapon.”
“No!” The denial was instinctive, and Naranpa regretted her outburst immediately, as they all turned to stare—Okoa surprised, Peyana curious, Ieyoue sympathetic. Even Sedaysa fixed her with an enigmatic look.
“It is sacred.” Naranpa’s protest was weak, and she knew it.
“A sacred weapon is even better,” Peyana said.
“It can be forged, can it not?” His question was for Naranpa. “I believe the other Sun Priest broke off a piece here”—he pointed to a place where a ray of the sun had chipped off—“and used it to stab the Odo Sedoh. It is the wound he bears that still will not heal, the one you saw that pains him.”
Peyana took the mask from Okoa, examining it more closely. “My people can work this metal. It is an ancient craft we practice, as our ancestors did. It is known to us.”
Naranpa clenched her fists in her lap to keep from snatching it away from the Winged Serpent matron.
“What can be made from it?” Ieyoue asked, not without a compassionate glance toward Naranpa.
She, at least, understood the pain it caused her to see the mask out of her control, and for a brief moment, Naranpa wondered if they would give the mask to her if she commanded it. In her heart, she already knew the answer, so she did not ask. Only watched as they passed it around and speculated on the ways it could be transformed into something that might kill.
Peyana offered more than one. “A golden dagger, spear tips, even arrowheads.”
Naranpa stopped listening after that. She let her mind wander as they continued to plan. Sometimes she found herself drifting through the images of her childhood, memories of her and her family she had not let herself revisit in decades. But mostly, her thoughts took her back to the look on Denaochi’s face as he stepped in front of the blade to save her, and as he reached for her hand, and his low gasp, and her awful scream, as she realized she could not save him in return.
Finally, the gathered company came to the one element of the night they had not discussed: her powers. She roused herself from her waking nightmares to listen. But she could not answer their questions to anyone’s satisfaction, including her own, because she did not understand her powers. She had only used them before to light her way, and to heal. To kill… she had no clear memory of how she had done it. She remembered the man’s head between her hands, her moment of exultation as his flesh bubbled and popped. Only now it was revulsion, not triumph, that shivered her skin. The killing was like something she had witnessed from above, not something she had done. Yet she knew that if she allowed that river of rage within her to rise, if she gave herself permission to feel it again, the fire would come. So when they asked her about gods and sorcery and fire, she was vague and distant, until finally they stopped asking.
“Give me twenty-four hours to speak to my matron and devise a path forward,” Okoa had said, his parting words.
But now it had been more than twenty-four hours, and no word had come. Perhaps the young man had failed to convince his matron to betray the Odo Sedoh after all. Perhaps the Odohaa had sniffed out his intentions and put an end to him, death tightening its fingers around his neck even sooner than Naranpa could have guessed. There were so many ways the earnest young warrior’s plans could have gone wrong.
“And no word from Water Strider or Winged Serpent?” Naranpa asked Sedaysa.
“Matron Ieyoue sent word. Her clan saw no sign of Golden Eagle on the river, but she sent a messenger to the Great House in Tsay, and they believe Nuuma, her advisers, and her direct kin have fled, likely to Hokaia.”
It was what Naranpa had expected. “So summer will likely bring war.”
“If not this summer, then surely the next. If summer comes at all.”
“Ah.” Here in this false paradise, Naranpa had almost forgotten about the eclipsed sun and the perpetual winter that squeezed the life from the city.
“What now?” Sedaysa reached over as if to hold Naranpa’s hand, but she paused, no doubt remembering the death that had flowed from her palms. “You are our matron, and Coyote clan needs you.”
“No.” This much revelation had come to her. “Naming me matron was Denaochi’s idea, and while it was a good one while he lived, I am not the woman who should lead Coyote clan. You would make a better matron, Sedaysa. You know this place, these people, more than I. The people will accept you, as will the Speakers Council. I am sure of it. You saw Ieyoue and Peyana talk with you as their equal.”
“It was a surprising thing.”
It was the right thing, and they both knew it. It would take some time for her to adjust to the role, but Naranpa could already tell Sedaysa was a good choice.
“What will you do, then, if you are not matron?”
She had been thinking about it for a while, and her voice was grieved but confident. “I do not belong here any longer. I thought I could come home, but with Denaochi gone, I have no home here anymore.”
“If not the Maw, where will you go? Not the celestial tower?”
“No, I have no home there, either.”
“Then where?”
“Where I should have been all along, but for foolish luck. I’m going to Sun Rock to face the Odo Sedoh.”
Sedaysa startled. “Are you mad?”
Naranpa laughed. Now that she had said it aloud, she felt freer than she had in days. “Ochi asked me the same thing once, and I assured him I was very much sane.”
“You counsel me to embrace a greater destiny, but I would advise you not to hasten your demise, Naranpa. You are still needed. Tova still needs you.”
For once, she felt that was not true. “I think you are mistaken, Matron.”
“At least wait until we hear from Carrion Crow.”
“No. I do not know what has befallen Okoa, but I fear if we wait any longer, it will be too late. We have a narrow window of opportunity to strike at the Crow God Reborn, and I dare not squander it.”
“Peyana promised us sun weapons. Is that not reason enough to hold? If you go to face the crow god now, you will go empty-handed.”
Pasko’s face, ruined by fire, flashed through her mind. “I beg to differ.”
Sedaysa sighed. “I have seen those in the throes of grief do foolish things in the wake of a loved one’s death, as if they seek to join them.”
Now it was Naranpa’s turn to be surprised. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know you well enough to know, but I fear it all the same.” Sedaysa’s look was that of a woman whose profession it was to understand a person’s needs, sometimes better than the person themselves. “You are as stubborn as your brother, and I see there is nothing I can say that will stop you.”
“I’ve made up my mind.”
She took Naranpa’s hands in her own, and held them tight. “Then burn bright, Sun Priest, and I shall mark your transit across the heavens.”
* * *
Naranpa wore mourning white, a last gift from the matron of Coyote clan. The long sleeves clung tight to her arms, and a golden belt encircled her waist. Around her shoulders hung the white cloak Denaochi had gifted her, the one with the stars in the lining. Her hair was loose and tangled, and Sedaysa had washed it in gold dust.
“I once told you I was helping you only because of my love for your brother,” Sedaysa had said as she ran amber-coated fingers through Naranpa’s hair. “But this I do for you, Naranpa. You have earned it.” And then she had touched her lips to Naranpa’s own, briefly, intimately, before bidding her farewell.
The streets were blessedly empty, the city having developed a rhythm of morning and evening despite the absence of the sun to guide them, and Naranpa guessed it was a few short hours until a new day.
She had not gone far down the main road of the Maw before she saw what she was looking for. A crow, perched atop a ladder that leaned against an adobe wall.