Home > Books > Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(107)

Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(107)

Author:Rebecca Roanhorse

“Well? Does no one claim him?”

She bent over and hauled him up by his hair. Balam could see that his fingers were crushed and his face swollen from blows. And there was something distinctly wrong with his mouth.

“He’s swallowed his tongue,” Tuun whispered, part awe and part revulsion.

Naasut’s eyes fixed on the stone sorcerer. “Yes. It seems he was able to break his own fingers and swallow his tongue before we could beat a confession from him.”

“How do you know he is one of ours?” Sinik said, and Balam could see his horror slowly turning to outrage. “He could belong to anyone. Golden Eagle or another of the Tovan clans, your own rivals here in Hokaia, even the Teek!”

“He is no instrument of the Teek,” a voice said from the top of the stairs.

Another woman had joined them while they had been focused on the poor spy at their feet. She was a good head and a half shorter than Naasut, but she commanded the space much the same. She wore a netted blouse and wide pants like the sailor on the ship, Alani, and her waist-length hair cascaded around her in waves, her overlarge eyes the angry gray of a hurricane.

“The Teek do not truck with men.” She said that last with a sneer, and Balam thought she and Pech made a fine pair.

“Queen Mahina has proven herself to the spearmaidens. Her loyalty is not in question.”

Balam’s expression was a flawless mask of cool indifference, but his mind was racing. The Teek had come, and not only had they come, they had brought a queen. And, if he guessed correctly, a fleet of elegant racing ships. He should be afraid—the true Sovran of Hokaia clearly deposed, his spy unveiled, an alliance between the Teek and the spearmaidens brewing—but all he could think of was the possibility in it. The potential in the chaos.

“The fact that I do not know who this man belongs to is the only reason you are still alive,” Naasut said.

“You would dare to threaten a lord of Cuecola?” Pech said, finally finding his voice.

“I dare many things,” she replied.

“It would be unwise to injure a lord of one of the Houses of Seven,” Tuun said unexpectedly, “particularly under the laws of hospitality that rule us all.”

“The rules of the Treaty no longer bind us,” Naasut countered. “If the Watchers of Tova have fallen, as your own messengers say they have, then the Meridian is remade.”

“The laws I refer to are older than the Treaty.” Tuun lifted a hand, freshly bloodied. She whispered words, and the air filled with a deep rumble.

Balam planted his feet, as everyone but he searched, eyes wild, for the source of the reverberations. Someone cried out as the earth around them shifted. Naasut’s eyes went wide, and Mahina on the stairs above them cursed. Tuun snapped her hand shut, and the earthquake immediately ceased.

“Sorceress,” Naasut breathed. “Such magic is forbidden!”

“Forbidden by the Treaty. Which you reminded us is no more. It seems we are indeed in a new age. So be careful whom you threaten, Spearmaiden.” The two women stared at each other, hungry dogs circling before the first bite.

“Perhaps now would be the time for hospitality,” Balam said. “I certainly would not mind a drink.”

Naasut’s gaze flicked to him, annoyed at first but then, to his relief, amused. “I was told all the lords of Cuecola were men with shriveled balls, but I see I was wrong.” She looked back at Tuun admiringly. “And no one told me of the women.”

The Sovran snapped her fingers, and the spearmaidens dragged Balam’s spy to his feet and back up the steps.

“To the tables, then,” she declared. “Hospitality calls. We will settle this breach of etiquette when Golden Eagle arrive. There’s plenty of time to root out our enemies and slit their throats.”

She turned on her heel and strode back up the stairs, the rest of her spearmaidens folding in behind her, following in precise lines.

Sinik exhaled a shaky breath and turned to Balam, accusing. “Seven hells, Balam. What have you led us into?”

“A coup, it appears,” he murmured.

“Should we follow?” Tuun asked.

“I don’t think we have a choice. And I was quite serious about wanting a drink.”

The three of them headed up the stairs. Their own guards and servants and secretaries trailed behind, Powageh among them. Pech shook himself free of whatever had bemused him and hurried after. Before them stood the Grand Palace, and just beyond the doors, Balam spied a long table laden with food and drink.