“Then what would you do, Chaiya?” he yelled. “Tell me, because I do not know!”
“Do your duty.”
“Duty to whom?”
His cousin’s expression tore at his heart. “If you must ask, Okoa, then I am too late.” He started to walk toward the edge of the lake.
“No!” Okoa grabbed his arm, whirling him around to face him. “Don’t walk away. Tell me what to do!”
“Convince Esa to answer the Sky Made’s missives! Tell her to promise them the Odo Sedoh. And have her arrest Maaka!”
“Arrest Maaka?” The demand set him back. “On what grounds?”
“Have you not seen him preaching in the yard every day? Calling what happened on Sun Rock ‘divine justice’？”
“It is his right. Besides, if you jail him, you will make him a martyr.”
“If you don’t, he will use the Odo Sedoh as an excuse to drive your family out of the Great House. Mark me, there are things you don’t know about Maaka. That man has always hated this family since they allowed the Sky Made to take your father.”
He thought of Maaka’s warning not to confuse fealty to the Odo Sedoh with disloyalty to his family and how Okoa’s father would not make that mistake. There was a connection there, but he did not have time to tease it out.
“Well?” Chaiya’s look was grim.
“I…” he faltered. Chaiya asked too much of him.
His cousin’s look was long and weighing, his voice cold with disgust. “You are your mother’s son.”
The words hurt coming from his cousin, more than he could say, and he lashed out. “First I am my father, now I am my mother. Which is it?”
Chaiya leaned close, finger digging into Okoa’s chest. “I said they spared your mother your father’s fate, not that she did not deserve the same.”
He flinched back. “Are you saying you are glad she is dead?”
Chaiya paled, the color draining from his face.
Okoa saw the opening and pressed. “She did not die by her own hand.” He had never voiced his suspicions aloud, but he felt wild and unmoored, as if a door within him had opened and he could not close it.
His cousin’s eyes widened before he quickly looked away. “Careful what comes next, Okoa.”
“Esa—”
“Esa is innocent.”
“I believe that now, but…” He frowned. “What do you know?”
“I know that only a fool accuses without proof.”
“No, you were going to say something else.” He had seen the moment of panic in Chaiya’s eyes, heard the quick breath that suggested he was nervous. “What do you know?”
“Go home, Okoa. Go back and convince Esa to give the Odo Sedoh to the Sky Made for trial. It is the only way forward.” He turned his back to him and walked to the edge of the lake. He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. A few moments later, Kutssah and Benundah rose from behind the hills and drifted over the water. They came to land beside them.
Okoa watched, his mind turning. “Why are you not angry?”
Chaiya exhaled, sounding weary. “What?”
“I just suggested that my mother, your matron, was murdered on your watch. Why are you not raving? Where is your outrage at such a crime?”
“Your grief confuses you, Cousin. There was no murder. Your mother leaped from her balcony and was found in the river. It was tragic, but considering the shame of your father and the guilt she bore these long years, can you blame her?”
“But you said Esa was innocent. Innocent of what?”
Chaiya paused, and Okoa held his breath. His heart beat so loudly he was sure Chaiya could hear it. He knew something, Okoa was sure. But his cousin only picked up Okoa’s tack and began to walk to Benundah.
“I’ve said my piece.”
“Do not touch her!”
Okoa rushed forward and wrenched the tack from his hands. Chaiya did not fight him. He felt his cousin’s eyes on him as he saddled his crow and set her bridle.
He was mounted and ready to take flight when Chaiya asked, “Are you going to do the right thing?”
Okoa recoiled. He had told the Odo Sedoh he only wanted to do what was right, but at the time, he had not realized how difficult it was to know what that was.
He did not answer, only turned Benundah away and took to the sky.
* * *
It was late when Okoa returned to the aviary, no Chaiya at his side. It was better his cousin had stayed behind. He did not think he wanted to see his face again for a while. What he had said about his father, that he had spoken of his father at all, was a burr under his skin.