“Well, Naranpa. It seems it is true. You are alive.”
“Disappointed?” Naranpa took her seat.
Nuuma had come draped in mourning white, her tawny brown hair loose and tangled, a signifier of her grief. Contempt curled the edges of her mouth, coating her words in venom. “It’s not entirely surprising that a Maw dog ran from the censure of her betters and was found here among her kind once again.”
The other Sky Made at least played at egalitarianism, and their murmurs of shock at Nuuma’s incivility shivered around the room. But Naranpa had expected Nuuma to be vicious and did not rise to the bait.
“I should probably be thanking your niece for trying to murder me. Without her interference, I may have never found kindred spirits among the Coyote clan, and even more so, an awakening of my true gifts.”
“Coyote clan?” Ieyoue interrupted. “What’s this?” The Water Strider matron had worn her hair down and tangled but had chosen to adorn herself in Water Strider blue, which suggested her mourning had limits. She was also the only one who had smiled in greeting when Naranpa had entered.
Naranpa turned away from Nuuma. “I recently read an interesting thing in the history books of the celestial tower. A book that was held in secret by the ta dissa and not shared with the other orders. It spoke of the Coyote clan, a clan that existed before the War of the Spear and was forcibly dissolved in the aftermath of the war.”
“It is true,” Ieyoue acknowledged. “Haisan once spoke of it to me.”
At Naranpa’s surprised look, she added, “He was Water Strider by birth, and a cousin. We often spoke of history and such things, particularly when he was in his cups. It is said the Coyote clan was disavowed because they refused to fight in the war. And from there, their entire history was erased. They became Dry Earth, clanless.”
Peyana cleared her throat. She had forgone any signs of mourning at all and wore a dress of shimming green and blue scales, her hair wrapped in dramatic horns atop her head. It was shockingly festive and sent a clear signal as to where Winged Serpent’s sympathies lay. “Is that the legacy you wish to claim now, Naranpa? One of criminals and proven cowards?”
“The people of the Maw are loyal to this city, which is more than I can say for some at the table today.” Her reprimand was not harsh, but it was firm. “You will show some respect, Peyana.”
“I do not object to the Coyote clan having a representative here.” Ieyoue spoke before the others could respond. “Would that be you?”
Naranpa nodded. She heard the bosses come to stand behind her. Denaochi’s hand came down on her shoulder. “And my brother will stand as my Shield.”
They all understood what Naranpa was saying, what rights she was claiming. The title of matron, a seat on the Speakers Council, a voice in the political and economic future of the city as a representative of those who lived in the Maw.
“You will never be Sky Made,” Nuuma hissed.
“We don’t need to be,” Denaochi said. “We are proud to be Dry Earth, children of the Coyote. But you will see us as your equal.”
“And if we refuse?”
Naranpa’s voice was casually lethal. “We’ll end your diplomatic mission to Hokaia cold in its tracks.” It was a bluff but one she and Denaochi had decided on. Maw spies had seen Golden Eagle’s forces leave the city via the river and had followed at a distance until they could discern their purpose. They had not stopped them, only gathered information, and hoped it would be enough now to force Golden Eagle to show their hand. “We know your daughter leads a contingent north and east to the Puumun River in a bid to reach Hokaia by stealth before the spring thaw. We know you planned to take control of the Watchers. The only thing we do not know is what price you asked to sell out your city and from whom.”
Nuuma’s face was a mask, giving nothing away, but Naranpa was sure they had struck true.
“What’s this?” Peyana rose in alarm.
Ieyoue’s face had fallen in consternation. “Tell us it is otherwise, Nuuma.”
“Baseless lies.” The matron of Golden Eagle raised her chin, eyes steady on Naranpa. “The kind of lies one might expect from the self-appointed matron of a false clan.”
Denaochi leaned forward with his crooked smile. “Shall we bring your daughter here to tell us herself?”
That had not been part of their plan, and as far as she knew, there was no daughter to bring forward. They had left the Golden Eagle contingent unmolested. But Nuuma didn’t know that, and panic widened her eyes before she could control it.