Xiala dropped her bag, removed her own cloak, the one she’s traded for in Tovasheh, and replaced it with Aishe’s deep blue. She ran a hand over the rich fabric, felt the luxurious touch of fur against her neck. “This is expensive.”
“It can be replaced.”
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. “Not just for the cloak but for everything. I’m sorry I brought my troubles to your door… and your bed. I should have never—”
“We.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t just you. It was we. I’m a grown woman, and if you recall, I seduced you.” Her smile was small and knowing. “You think I don’t see you, but I see you better than you see yourself. One day, you’ll stop trying to drown who you are—and whoever’s there to catch you? Well, they’ll be lucky to have you. But it won’t be me.”
“Am I that bad?”
Aishe’s smile stretched into a grin. “Like a tidal wave.”
Xiala laughed. She wasn’t sure if her words were meant as compliment or complaint, but either way, they felt like a truth. And despite her moment of self-pity before, she’d never been shy about laughing at herself. It was not the first time she had been called a disaster.
Aishe shivered, hands rubbing against her arms. “It feels bad here, doesn’t it, Xiala?” She was serious now, her face clouded with concern. “I mean, the sun, yes. But the people, too. I’m frightened.”
It was the same feeling Xiala had had earlier. The city was holding its breath, waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. Perhaps the sun would plummet from the sky, or the sky itself would crack and shatter. Perhaps a million crows would descend on them and pluck their eyes and tongues out as they had done to her crew. She didn’t know. All she did know was that something would break, and when it did, it was going to be bloody.
She grasped Aishe’s upper arm. “Stay safe.”
Aishe reached out to pull the hood up over Xiala’s head. Once it was in place, she straightened the edges. A moment’s hesitation, and then she leaned in and kissed Xiala on the mouth. Before Xiala could protest, she pulled away. She pressed a finger to Xiala’s lips.
“Go,” she said. “Go find him. Just be careful. They say the storm has come, but to me, it feels like it’s only beginning.”
CHAPTER 6
CITY OF TOVA （DISTRICT OF ODO）
YEAR 1 OF THE CROW
Understand your enemy not by the face that they show you but by the face they do not.
—On the Philosophy of War, taught at the Hokaia War College
Okoa had planned to delay their homecoming until the Odo Sedoh’s wound was stabilized, but it had been another full day, and the wound was not getting any better. It continued to seep a watery reddish-gold ichor, and although the man hid it well, Okoa could tell he was in pain. It was clear that the sooner they returned, the better.
They had debated how to return. Okoa had favored stealth, but the Odo Sedoh made a convincing argument for spectacle, reiterating his earlier advice that they utilize fear to their advantage. Okoa did not love the idea, but his masters at the war college had often spoken of the importance of theatrics and the benefits of an overwhelming display of power in the face of conflict. He could not deny the Odo Sedoh’s reasoning, so in the end, Okoa agreed. They would not hide their return but announce it.
Then came the problem of how they would ride. They had arrived together on Benundah’s back, but now that many of the great corvids had joined them, there was no reason to make Benundah carry them both.
“I can ride Kutssah,” Okoa offered, as they stood outside the monastery facing the flock. Part of him still felt a childish desire not to share Benundah with anyone, even if it did make sense. “We will have to fashion you some kind of makeshift bridle, although I don’t know… why do you laugh?”
“I have no need for reins, or a saddle, for that matter.”
“How will you direct—？”
“I won’t.” The Odo Sedoh approached Benundah. The great corvid trilled a happy welcome. He ran his hands across her beak and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Benundah will serve as my eyes. She has done so before and knows the way better than I.”
“And your seat?”
“She will not let me fall.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Will you?”
“It is not so easy to ride a giant crow. The scions train all their lives for the honor.”
“Then it is good I am not a scion.” As if he had done it a hundred times, the Odo Sedoh climbed astride Benundah. He moved confidently, easily. Not as Okoa expected a blind man to move. Do not underestimate him with your prejudices, he warned himself. Remember Sun Rock.