Black Sun

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  “Crows can do that?”

  “Of course.” And then he was walking away, staff in hand, travel pack on his back, his crows following.

  * * *

  She didn’t find the harbormaster, but she did find a fisherman, a short boxy fellow morosely casting a net off one of the outlying piers. She traded a barrel of salted fish they no longer needed for directions to the harbormaster’s home. It wasn’t far, and she trudged through the empty fog-filled streets, wondering why she bothered. Did she think she would be able to return to Balam after this? Sell the cargo and stay in Tova or in this apparent craphole until spring and then return with a fresh crew and full purses? And what of Serapio? She hadn’t let herself think past the Convergence, but now that it was imminent, she realized she didn’t want to leave him. Not that she was attached, because she wasn’t. Or at least, not that way. She didn’t get attached. But he did intrigue her with his secrets, and they had an undeniable kinship, a shared connection. She didn’t know what she wanted exactly, but she knew she wanted… more.

  She found the house the fisherman had described and knocked on the door. After a moment, a woman answered. She was dark-skinned, darker than Xiala, and she wore her orange-colored hair in an elaborate bun atop her head. Xiala couldn’t place her origin immediately. Somewhere on the continent, but that was about it.

  She looked Xiala up and down, clearly judging her shoddy clothing and generally bedraggled looks.

  “I’m looking for the harbormaster,” Xiala said. “I was told he lived here.”

  “She lives here,” the woman corrected her. “I’m the harbormaster.”

  Xiala managed a genuine grin. She had gotten used to Cuecola, where men seemed to hold most of the power. It was nice to be back on this side of the Crescent Sea, where women were often in charge.

  “My apologies,” she said. “I’ve just come into port. I’m docked out at the far pier. I’ve got some cargo to offload and…”

  The woman had raised a skeptical eyebrow, hands on her hips. “You came in from sea? Just now? All by yourself?”

  Xiala had known this question would come and had an answer with enough truth to it to feel authentic. “I had a crew. We set out from Cuecola, but most were lost at sea during a shipkiller. I and another survived, but the rest…” She lowered her head, and the sadness she felt for Loob and for others, even Callo, was real. Baat and Patu could rot in hell. “We were lucky to find shore.”

  “What fool lord sent you out in winter on the Crescent Sea?” the harbormaster asked, sounding outraged. “He must have been desperate.”

  “I just want to sell what’s left of the cargo,” Xiala explained. “Find a steam bath and a soft bed.” She let some of her real desperation show through.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. Xiala caught a glint of greed there. Ah, yes. That should help push things along.

  “Come back tomorrow, then,” the woman said. “I’ll have dockhands to unload your cargo and find you a buyer. It’s hard this time of year, but there’ll be a few who want a jump on the season. Especially with what’s happened in Tova.”

  Xiala frowned. “What’s happened in Tova?”

  “Tomorrow,” the woman said, and made to shut the door.

  “Wait!” She stopped the door with an outstretched hand. “Tomorrow’s too late. I need to make a deal tonight.”

  “There’s no one—”

  “Please! I’ll take…” She took a deep breath and steeled herself. “I’ll take half of what you would normally offer. If we can strike the deal tonight.”

  The harbormaster paused.

  “I’ll throw in the ship,” she added.

  “Your ship that’s been through a storm big enough to kill your crew?” The woman crossed her arms and glared down her nose. “The one that’s likely ravaged and haunted?”

  “For free.” And stars and skies, that hurt. She tried not to wince. Serapio owed her on principle alone.

  The harbormaster hesitated a moment before letting out an unimpressed snort. She disappeared inside while Xiala waited at the door, coming back a few minutes later in a wool cloak that kept out the drizzle and cold.

  Xiala eyed her enviously. “Don’t suppose you have one of those you want to sell?” she asked.

  “Let me see your ship and cargo,” the woman said. “If I like them enough to pay, I’ll throw in the cloak for free.”

  It was as good an offer as she was going to get under the circumstances, so Xiala led the harbormaster back through the soggy evening to the pier where she’d left her hopes and dreams.

  * * *

  An hour later, Xiala was following a crow along the banks of one of the many inlet streams that ran through Tovasheh. The weather had settled in, finally turning to a steady rain, and she pulled up the hood of her new wool cloak and hugged it tight around her shivering body. In her hand she carried a bottle of xtabentún. The xtabentún was all she’d kept of the cargo she’d sold to the harbormaster. No personal belongings, no clothes. Nothing to her name, quite literally.

  What’s wrong with you, Xiala, she told herself as she drank from the bottle, is that you can’t keep a handful of cacao in your purse for more than a day, or a place to rest your head for a week. And whose fault was that but her own? She wanted to blame it on her poor luck, on a faithless crew or a cursed deal. But this wasn’t the first time she’d found herself reduced to a bottle of liquor and the clothes on her back. There was something else deeply wrong with her, something she had no desire to examine with any rigor. At least this time, she thought brightly, you’re not in jail and you’re not alone. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  A barge came into view, a low flat-bottomed vessel anchored against the natural riverbank. Resin lanterns hung from poles at its fore and aft, and a rung ladder offered entrance down the embankment to the deck. It loosely resembled the fine canoe she’d just sold for nothing, but it was only half the length, and the majority of the black-washed deck was enclosed, leaving only a narrow expanse exposed on either side and a larger area at the stern that was wide enough for a gathering. The barge was attached to a harness, now empty, that faced upriver. Xiala squinted at the contraption but couldn’t quite make out what was supposed to go there. A dozen men or a massive beast of some kind, or something completely different. Pole stations stood at each corner of the rectangular ship, no doubt used to keep the vessel from colliding with the shore while in motion and moving along in shallow water when whatever it was that pulled the barge wasn’t employed.

  Her guide landed on the thatched roof of the barge and gave a definitive squawk. She offered the creature a salute of thanks before taking the ladder down. Serapio appeared from the shadows as her feet hit the deck.

  She startled, letting out a small scream. Her night vision was good, and she should have seen him, but he blended into the darkness here even better than he had at sea.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized. “I heard the crow return.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, shaking off the spike of adrenaline. She looked around at their new transportation, but most of it was shrouded in the growing twilight. “Looks like you found us passage.”

  “A bunk in a room shared with three other travelers, but the captain assures me he can have us in Tova before the Convergence.”

  She grunted. Three others? Well, it was no worse than bunking with the crew. “That the room?” she asked, peering around Serapio’s shoulder to the chamber behind him.

  “Behind me? Yes.”

  She stepped around him and paused. He smelled clean. Like water and soap.

  “Did you bathe?”

  “In the river.”

  Her whole body drooped in disappointment. “Not a steam bath?”

  “The river. It’s very refreshing.”

  Which probably meant it was like sitting naked in a frozen pond. She wanted heat, not ice. But maybe it was better than nothing.

  She peered inside through the reed walls. It was a ti
ght fit, and sure enough three men were already crowded in, hunched over a dice game of some kind on the floor.

  “Those our cabinmates inside?”

  “Pilgrims,” he confirmed. “Traveling for the solstice.”

  “Gambling pilgrims?” She laughed, skeptical.

  He shrugged, unconcerned. “Did you find the harbormaster?”

  “All sorted,” she said. “And I got a new cloak.” She held it out for his inspection, and then remembered he couldn’t see it. “It’s wool,” she explained. “Water-resistant.”

  “Which reminds me.” He picked up something from the ground beside his feet and handed it to her. It looked to be a bundle of cotton. She unwrapped it, and it came apart into two pieces. Clothing. She held it up.

  “Is it pants?” he asked.

  “And a shirt.”

  The clothes were simple but well made. The shirt was square, and the long sleeves were stitched at the shoulders. It looked a size too small, but it wasn’t unusable. The pants were long and loose, but when she held them up, they came only to her calves. With sandals she would be cold, but if she could find boots somewhere, they would suffice. Both items were the same dull white as the clothes she wore now, but the pants had a colorful embroidery at the hem and waist, and the shirt was cropped. “Are these children’s clothes?”

  “I bought them from one of the pilgrims. They were to be a gift for a nephew. Will they fit?”

  “I’m going to look like an adolescent boy with breasts and hips,” she protested, “but…” She sighed. “At least they’re clean.”

  They turned as a roar of victory emanated from the room where the pilgrims were. Good-natured shouting and benches being moved, and then the men were pouring out the door, loud and boisterous. The one in the lead almost ran into Xiala, the captain catching him at the last minute before they collided.

  The man’s eyes met hers, and Xiala saw that he wasn’t a man at all, but a very attractive woman, hair cut short on the sides and pulled back tightly in a knot in a decidedly masculine style.

  “My apologies,” the woman murmured, and Xiala caught a hint of liquor on her breath as she smiled. The harbormaster had been the first woman Xiala had seen in weeks, and now this one, and she felt some tension she was carrying drain from her shoulders. She loved the sea, loved Cuecola with its majestic architecture and sophistication, but mother waters, it was good to be on this side of the Meridian.

  “No apology needed,” she answered, returning the smile.

  The woman sized her up, a drunken flirty look. “Would you and your friend like to join us?” she asked. “My brothers and I are going in search of dinner and more drink. Maybe a gambling table if there’s one to be found.”

  Her brothers were already pounding up the ladder.

  “Go on, Xiala,” Serapio said at her side. “Go enjoy your evening.”

  “What about you?” she asked, turning to study his face, but it was hard to catch his expression in the dark folds of his cowl.

  “I can’t give you what you want,” he said quietly, just for her ears and with too much insight for her liking.

  “So…?” the woman asked, dragging a finger down Xiala’s arm. Longing hit her all at once. Not for the stranger, who was attractive enough to make her evening exciting, but for the man beside her. The unavailable one. She cursed under her breath.

  “No,” Xiala said, resolute, “but thanks for the offer.”

  “Another time, then,” the woman said lightly, and then she was clambering up the ladder, shouting for her brothers to wait up. Xiala listened to their laughter trailing away into the night, and exhaled heavily.

  “Why didn’t you go?” Serapio asked. “She seemed very interested in you.”

  “Shut up,” she muttered, pushing him forward into the now-empty room. “Apparently, I don’t want to have a good time with fun attractive people. I want to sit morosely in an empty room and drink alone with you instead.”

  She looked around at their temporary housing. It was luxurious compared to the canoe. A double bunk bed on either side of a room that was almost as long as the ship was wide, and two raised reed mats that ran along the far wall to make a total of six beds. A table in the middle of the room that the previous occupants had shoved aside to throw dice on the wood floor, and two long benches beside it. There were blankets that looked fairly fresh piled on each bed and a small window directly across from the door that opened to the outside. For two people it would have been perfect, but for six it was going to be tight.

  “It’s nice,” she admitted, as Serapio felt his way forward with his staff. “It looks like they’ve claimed one of the bunks and the beds along the wall. That leaves us the other bunk.”

  “This one?” He dumped his travel bag on the correct mat.

  “I guess I’m sleeping above,” she said, eyeing the top bunk. Now that she was close, it didn’t look all that steady.

  “You can sleep with me,” Serapio offered.

  “Watch it, crow man,” she said, laughing. “I’ve been on a ship for the past two weeks with a celibate. Offer now, and who knows what happens? I’ve only got so much self-control.” But she was teasing, and he knew her well enough by now to know it. He gave her one of his half-smiles.

  “What if I tell you a story?”

  She paused in the act of draping her new cloak over the ladder to her bunk. “What?”

  “We’ll be in Tova soon, so it’s time I told you what to expect when we arrive.”

  It was the same thought she’d had earlier. She felt their time together shrinking at an alarming rate. A few days in this room, on this barge, and then they would go their separate ways. And she would have to face her mess of a life and figure out what to do next. But mostly, she would miss him.

  A chill rolled over her, not from the wet weather outside, but from a panic that made her stomach hurt. She pasted on a smile, which she realized was wasted on him, and said, “Sure! But first a bath!”

  She bit her lip. She sounded like a fool. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t call her on her falsity.

  He stretched out on the bed and tucked his hands behind his head. Pulled his cowl down so it covered everything but his mouth. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

  She grabbed her clean clothes, the soap that sat on the table, and the bottle of alcohol she had brought from the ship and hurried out the door.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE TOVASHEH RIVER

  YEAR 325 OF THE SUN

  (4 DAYS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)

  I saw a terrible thing today. A dozen crows, small but fierce, attacked a much larger owl that had entered their territory. It was raiding their nests and had eaten a nestling. The crows attacked it with their beaks and claws, but the owl seemed to only see them as an annoyance. It even plucked one from the sky, breaking its neck before hurling it to the canyon floor below.

  —From Observations on Crows, by Saaya, age thirteen

  Serapio was dozing lightly when Xiala returned. He had let the lamp burn down to almost nothing, too comfortable to get up and relight it. At night everything became shadows upon shadows anyway, and he saw just as well in full darkness as with lamplight, which was not at all. But as the solstice drew nearer, he had sensed the shadow within him growing, too, and with it his perception had sharpened. He was still as blind as he had been since he was twelve, but Xiala in particular seemed to register more brightly, more intensely, in his awareness. He didn’t know if it was because the god was growing within him, or if it was her Teek magic, but he sensed everything about her more acutely and missed her when she was gone.

  He listened to her move about the room, trying to be quiet so as not to wake him. He wanted to ask her to join him again, to share the narrow bed, but was afraid she would say no. Fear. It was an emotion he had not felt in a while. Want was not something he had felt recently, either, but he experienced it now, a sharp pain in his chest. He wanted her close, wanted her scent of sun and salt and ocean magic in his n
ose.

  He supposed it made sense. With Tova so near and his time coming to an end, of course he would have fears, have wants. But he had not expected them to center around this woman. He tried to remember some of the exercises his first tutor had taught him, the ones that helped him discipline his mind, but his concentration fell away as Xiala crawled into the bed beside him, warm and clean and soft.

  “Move over,” she grumbled, pushing gently at his shoulder.

  He slid over obligingly.

  “This bed is only meant for one person,” she muttered as she settled in. “And certainly not an Obregi giant.”

  “We could lie on the floor if you prefer,” he offered.

  “Seven hells, Serapio,” she said. “I’ve been sleeping on floors for weeks now. A bed is what I want, even one too small for two.” As if to make a point of just how cramped it was, she hoisted her leg over his and rested her head against his chest.

  His heart rate soared, and heat gathered where her skin touched his. For a moment he wished he didn’t have to tell her what came next, that perhaps they could stay like this and pretend that Tova was very far away indeed.

  “You know,” she said, sounding sleepy, “maybe it’s best you don’t fuck.”

  He almost swallowed his tongue.

  “I mean,” she continued, “I fuck. A lot. The Teek aren’t uptight about such things, and it’s something I enjoy. But it’s been kind of nice having a friend, too.”

  “I wouldn’t say that I don’t—”

  “But don’t you ever want to turn it off?” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

  He frowned. “Turn what off?”

  “The old brain. I mean, if you don’t fuck—”

  “Please stop saying that.”

  “—and you don’t drink, and I’ve never seen you relax. And that noise you make barely counts as a laugh. You’re so serious. Doesn’t it get old? How old are you, anyway?”