Black Sun

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  He had been working steadily as she spoke, but now he paused. “I don’t think you understand, Xiala.”

  “Understand what?”

  He was quiet for a while, but then he resumed working, deft hands on the wood, creating form from nothing. “I am the fulfillment of their prophecy.”

  Her first reaction was to laugh. Prophecies didn’t like bedtime stories or let you borrow their extra undergarments. Prophecies didn’t speak terrible Cuecolan and not know how to eat a damn fish. And they certainly didn’t cuddle with you when you’d had too much to drink and were feeling sorry for yourself. But they did talk to birds and reek of magic and, stars and sky, make the sun fear them.

  “Mother waters,” she murmured. “You’re serious.”

  He nodded.

  “But… how? Are you… you’re just a man! I thought prophecies required children of gods born to mortal women or something.”

  “Gods can be made in other ways,” he said quietly. He worked the wood, hands never stopping. “Raw materials can be found and shaped, molded into a form that can contain a god.”

  “What does it mean, Serapio? That you’re a god? What is a god? I don’t understand.”

  “It is said that thousands of years ago our world was once populated with gods. They are our ancestors. But there was a great war, the God War, and many were killed. Those who were not killed in the war began to die anyway. Some say they were overcome with regret and withered, others say they lived, but they grew lonely and went into the far north, never to be seen again. And still others say they returned to the sky, which was their home before they came to earth. Wherever their blood was spilled or their bodies lay, great wonders happened. Mountain ranges burst from flat lands, rivers gushed water like divine blood, stars were born in cataclysm. And in everything, they left bits of their power—the sun and stars, the creatures of earth and air, the very rocks and rivers and seas. Once humans discovered that the objects, places, and creatures around them held power, they began to manipulate them for their own desires. Many societies call that witchcraft, pulling power from one source and putting it into another, usually an object for your own use like an amulet or a potion. The sorcery of the Cuecolans and the southern coasts is similar, only they also complement the power transfer through blood and sacrifice to achieve ends that witchcraft could not fathom. The priests reject it all, saying that their study of the sun and stars is reason and not magic, but my old tutor believed it was not always so for them and the priests have only forgotten their magic.”

  It was all over Xiala’s head, unfamiliar and, frankly, unwanted knowledge. But there was one thing she had to know. “And which are you?” she asked, voice a soft whisper.

  “I am something else, although sorcery was used in my making. I am an avatar of a god. I am the object, the vessel, that contains the power, but unlike the sun or a stone or the sea, I am, as you say, a man. But not just a man, Xiala. Don’t make that mistake.” His head came up, his shuttered eyes meeting hers with unnerving accuracy. “I am also a god.”

  She shivered. Heard the beating of wings in his voice, remembered the feel of his magic, his power.

  “I believe you,” she said simply.

  “Then you know why this bargeman and the Odohaa are interested in me. And why I must go to Tova and confront the Sun Priest.”

  Confront the Sun Priest. But that’s not what he had said earlier, what the Odohaa wanted. “You mean kill the Sun Priest,” she ventured. “You said you had a meeting with the Watchers, but what you meant was you are going there to kill them.”

  He nodded.

  “Mother waters, Serapio, the whole priesthood?”

  “They are a blight upon this world. They would destroy all the gods if they could.”

  “But there must be a hundred, maybe more. You can’t kill a hundred people!”

  “You have not seen my power manifest,” he said. “Not truly. What I did to save you on the ship was but the smallest glimpse of what I contain. I am not afraid.”

  She had meant that it would be wrong to slaughter a hundred people, not that it was beyond his ability. She had wondered if he was hero or villain on the ship after the crows had come, and she wondered it again, now. And then something else occurred to her.

  “So you’re the one prophesied?”

  He held out the figurine. It was a mermaid, beautiful and detailed, as fine as the best art by the best artisans in Cuecola. “A gift. So that you remember me fondly.”

  “No…” She heaved, the balché she’d consumed over the gaming table churning in her stomach. She pressed a hand to her mouth and kept it down, but her whole body had begun to shake. Because if Serapio was the one prophesied, then that could only mean one thing.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

  She shook her head, but he couldn’t see it. “No!”

  “Do you need a healer?”

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” she whispered, horror shivering across her skin. “Tell me it’s not true.” She was crying, tears running down her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath. But it was no good. She was drowning.

  “Tell you what is not true?” he asked.

  “That you’re going to Tova to die.”

  CHAPTER 33

  CITY OF TOVA

  YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

  (1 DAY BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

  The Four Societies of the Watchers must always work together for the benefit of the people of the Meridian. If there is a disagreement before them, it shall be settled in Conclave before the full delegation of Priests and Dedicants. No subterfuge shall be tolerated, for the Watchers are a body of Reason and Science and beyond the petty squabbles of humankind.

  —The Manual of the Sun Priest

  Naranpa had been locked in her room for a week after her visit to the Maw before Iktan came to visit her.

  She had not been idle. She had convinced the servants, the girl Deeya and the boy Leaya, to aid her. Deeya had agreed to discreetly look for a possible message from Carrion Crow meant for her, and Leaya had agreed to carry a note to Ieyoue Water Strider letting her know of Naranpa’s fate. And Naranpa had listened, just as she had when she herself was a servant, and tried to learn what she could. But being confined left her with scant opportunity to discover what the priesthood was planning.

  Zataya’s pronouncement of her impending murder had initially unnerved her, but the immediacy of the threat faded with the passing days. And seeing Denaochi again was an unexpected comfort in and of itself. But as the solstice approached, she knew her time to act was running out.

  She had thought to tell the priesthood what she had learned from Denaochi, warn them of the storm coming from the south or the Odohaa’s restlessness. But she suspected they already knew and did not believe or believed and did not care. And if she spoke now, she would have to explain Denaochi and her visit to the Maw, and perhaps reveal her outreach to Okoa and Ieyoue. No, best to keep silent and let them discover it on their own.

  The Priest of Knives slid into the room on a whisper. Xe was dressed informally in soft gray, a long skirt and mantle, hair freshly shorn to xir skull. She was loath to admit it, but she still found xir physically attractive, beautiful even. Damn her traitorous heart. But at least she had the sense now to know she could not trust xir anymore.

  “What do you want?” She tried to keep her voice calm and flat and hoped her roil of emotions didn’t show on her face.

  Xe leaned against the wall by the door and crossed xir arms. “The solstice is tomorrow.”

  “I’m well aware.” She arched an eyebrow. “Have you decided to have me resume my duties after all?”

  Xe almost smiled. “No.”

  “How’s Eche?” She managed to keep the bitterness from her voice.

  “He’s competent. Not particularly creative, or smart, for that matter. But he knows how to play the political game. He’ll do well.”

  “And me?” she blurted. She hadn’t meant to ask, but she wanted to know.


  Iktan sighed. “This confinement is only temporary, Nara, until after Carrion Crow has been dealt with. We’re gathering support from the clans, and Eche is very good at that.”

  “You mean he’s an ass-kisser,” she shot back.

  “Brown to his ears.”

  She smiled, despite herself, but her amusement quickly faded. Her hands were shaking again, but her voice was steady, almost light. “You know the rules as well as I do, Iktan. The Sun Priest serves unto death, so don’t lie to me.”

  “An exception will be made for you. I would not have agreed to this without it.”

  She scoffed.

  Iktan shifted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. She knew that look. Xe was going to ask her for something she didn’t want to give.

  “I need the mask, Nara.”

  Her breath caught. She looked involuntarily over to the narrow dressing table where the burnished mask of the Sun Priest was displayed. She had cleaned it after the riots, wiping Okoa’s blood from the gold mosaic.

  “Skies,” she whispered, clasping her hands together in her lap. “Even now, I guess part of me didn’t think this was real, that you would truly go through with it.”

  “It’s real.” Xir voice was not unkind.

  Naranpa forced herself to stand. The walk to the dressing table felt like a march of miles. She lifted the mask and ran a hand over the broad cheek, admiring the craftsmanship. Wearing it had been the culmination of a lifetime of dreaming, twenty-three years dedicated to the priesthood. But all that looked foolish now, a child’s dreams dashed to nothing.

  She walked back and placed it in Iktan’s hands.

  “When is Eche’s investiture?”

  “After the solstice. We’ll have to fabricate a reason why you have abdicated.”

  “Of course you will.”

  “Nara…”

  “They were never going to accept me, were they?” she asked quietly.

  “No,” xe said. “The gap between Sky Made and Dry Earth is too vast.”

  She remembered Iktan had been born Winged Serpent. “And you? Was the gap too vast for you, too?”

  “You know that I have never cared much for this institution, and certainly not to the extent that you have. I find it full of falseness and flattery, but I do like certain aspects of my work.”

  “The violence, you mean.” She shook her head, rueful. “You always were a blasphemer.”

  “But I do very much care about you, Nara.”

  Her smile was soft and sad. “I wish I could believe you. So what happens to me now? Retirement? Perhaps I can join the river monks or grow a nice garden in the Eastern districts?”

  “Would that be so terrible? It is better than death, is it not?”

  Her whole body shuddered. She turned to face the window, her back to Iktan.

  “Kiutue did you a disservice when he named you Sun Priest. It was an impossible thing he asked of you. It did not have to come to this.”

  She sighed. “Go, Iktan. You got what you came for. Just… go.”

  Seconds passed in silence. She turned to find herself alone.

  Only then did she allow herself to cry.

  * * *

  It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes when her door opened again. She was washing her face in the basin when she heard someone enter and turned, annoyed.

  “Why are you back when I told you…”

  But it wasn’t Iktan in her doorway.

  “What do you want, Abah?” she said, voice coated with distaste. “Have you come to gloat?”

  The younger woman smiled, self-satisfied and indulgent. “Why would I gloat, Nara? I feel terrible about what’s happened. But I think we can all agree Eche should have been Sun Priest from the beginning and now things are in their rightful order.”

  “I said what do you want?”

  Abah sighed. “I do apologize ahead of time, but some of us talked, and we think it’s best if you don’t stay in the tower.”

  “I know. Iktan mentioned the Eastern districts after solst—”

  “You misunderstand.” Abah snapped her fingers, and four servants entered through the open door. They were big for servants, their brown robes stretching too tight across wide shoulders. And they looked too old. In fact, none of their faces was familiar.

  “Who is this?” Nara asked, dread rising in her belly.

  “Take her,” Abah commanded. “But make it quiet. No one can know.”

  “No one can…? Wait!” But the four men had seized her roughly by the arms and were dragging her toward the door.

  “Stop!” she cried. “You can’t—”

  One of the men struck her across the temple. She swayed, catching herself against the man on her other side. He grunted and shoved her away. Her feet caught on the hem of her robe, and she went down hard on her knees. Her teeth rattled in her head, and she grunted as she bit her tongue.

  “Get her up,” Abah hissed.

  Her arm was wrenched as they hauled her to her feet. Another man came into her room and dumped something on her bed. It took her a moment to register that it was a body. At first, she thought it was Iktan, and she almost screamed. But the body was the young woman who had been guarding her door since the last attempt on her life. It had required five men, but they had taken her down.

  “Oh, skies…” She shuddered, nausea rolling over her in a heavy wave.

  “Shut up!” Abah hissed. “There was no other way.”

  “Iktan will kill you.” She said it with total conviction. Not only for her abduction but for killing one of xir dedicants.

  “Not if xe’s dead first.”

  Naranpa’s laughter was high and hysterical. “You can bring all the Golden Eagle guards you want into the tower. You’ll never be able to kill xir.”

  Abah’s face soured. “You overestimate that tsiyo.”

  “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “Enough.” She motioned to the guard. He stuffed a rag in Naranpa’s mouth, and two guards wrestled a brown servant’s robe over her head, pulling the cowl up to hide her face, and then they were dragging her through the halls of the tower, off to somewhere else.

  CHAPTER 34

  CITY OF TOVA

  YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

  (1 DAY BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

  May you drown in shallow water

  May your song be never heard

  May you fall in love with a man

  May your mouth ever fill with salt

  —Teek curse

  They arrived in Tova on a cold afternoon the day before the solstice. The barge had taken them through winding canyons of basalt cliffs that ceded to red rock and heavy currents. Without the power of the water strider to pull them through, Xiala imagined that the river route was impassable. In confirmation of her assumptions, more and more foot traffic appeared on the side of the river, and the barge made stops along the way to pick up travelers for the final miles upriver. By the time they had anchored at a pier that Aishe told her was the riverfront of the Titidi district, the barge was crowded with eager tourists and solstice pilgrims.

  She and Serapio had spoken little since she had come to understand that he was on a suicide mission. Oh, she’d yelled at him when she thought the others on the barge couldn’t hear. Hissed words of frustration in his sensitive ears. Glared murderous looks in his direction. Even cried and begged until she was wrung out of emotion and words to convey it. He had seemed shocked that she even cared and then sat stalwartly through her ranting and raving.

  At one point she had considered using her Song to change his will, but he’d given her a look, blind or not, that made her quake. She was sure he knew her plans and would never let it happen. She didn’t think he’d hurt her, but on this one thing, she did not want to risk his goodwill.

  “Are you still not speaking?” Aishe asked as Xiala helped her tie off the barge. Xiala had confessed she was a sailor herself the second day on their voyage, and since then she had helped Aishe and her family with the m
anagement of the boat, if only out of boredom and a way to avoid Serapio.

  “No,” she answered.

  “What will you do now that you’re in Tova?”

  Xiala shrugged. She had no idea. She wasn’t even sure Serapio still wanted her company, or if she wanted his. A day. He had only a day to live. It was frustrating and awful and absurd, and it made her swell with fury to think of it.

  “My uncle wants to take Serapio to the Odohaa.”

  “Perhaps he should.”

  Aishe tied off the post and moved to the next one. “What will you do?”

  Xiala’s stomach sank. “I thought we would be exploring the city together, but now…”

  “You can come with me.”

  She glanced over at her new friend.

  “I mean, if you and he are done, I wouldn’t mind your company.” She grinned, the implied invitation obvious enough. “And if you’re not done, my door is open in friendship, too.” Her eyes took Xiala in, lingering and suggestive. “But that would be a pity.”

  Xiala laughed. Aishe was fun and easy, and despite her forwardness, Xiala felt no discomfort. In fact, her open manner reminded her of Teek customs. But Aishe still didn’t even know she was Teek, and certainly didn’t know what that meant. Xiala was sure that if she went with the girl, she would enjoy it. Days and nights of drinking and fucking and a clean farewell when they were ready to part ways.

  But Aishe wasn’t who she wanted.

  “Are you ready?”

  She turned to find Serapio at her back.

  “What?”

  “We are docked, and I promised to spend this day with you in Tova. Are you ready to see the city?”