She was only ten, then, her destiny far from decided. She had not yet learned she was poor and people like her only went to the celestial tower as servants, or that once you were poor, people hated you for it even when you weren’t poor anymore.
She remembered a summer night she sat with her family around the cooking coals they shared with their neighbors, talking about how she wished to study the stars. In the Sky Made districts, the scions ate on great communal terraces where kitchens produced food for hundreds, but in the Maw, people kindled small dugout fires in the street where they roasted ground cornmeal or buried whole ears of corn in hot ash to bake overnight.
At her words, her mother had exchanged a mysterious glance with her father, and he had nodded.
“It is good fortune that you would talk of studying the stars tonight, Nara,” her mother said, her voice high with excitement. “I spoke to the matron I serve, and she remembered you and how smart you are and how well you learn, and she has agreed to sponsor you at the celestial tower.”
Naranpa felt dizzy. “I’m going to be a scholar-priest?” She knew there were other disciplines one could learn at the tower—healing, writing and history, even the art of death—but all she had ever wanted was to study the sun and moon and the movement of the stars.
Her father laughed. “Oh, no, little one. They would never let you study there. You are to work. You will serve the priests. Help cook their meals, wash their vestments, clean their floors.”
Her stomach dropped in disappointment.
“But…” Her mother gave her father a long look. “Perhaps you will learn something if you listen closely. A servant can learn a lot through observation if she is quiet.”
“Then I will be quiet,” she vowed solemnly. “And I will learn everything!”
“That’s not fair,” her younger brother, Denaochi, protested. “Why does she get to go and not me?”
“Who wants to be a priest when you could be one of the Sky Made scions?” her other brother, Akel, asked.
Naranpa bit her lip. Being Sky Made was exciting. Water Strider was her favorite clan, and its matron was the one her mother served. It ruled the district of Titidi, which was closest to the Maw. She could see the curving edges of its cliffs when she gazed across the narrow canyon that divided them, its great sky-blue banners cascading down the sides of adobe buildings between dripping green vines and colorful tendrils of starburst flowers. She could even see trees there. Trees! The Maw had no trees. Titidi was a garden of impossible green and growth, with a waterfall that ran right through it like a living street before tumbling to the river that bisected Tova below. When her mother talked of it, she imagined Titidi was something out of a story, a place she could only hear about but never touch. But now…
“What clan would you be, Akel?” she asked.
“Why would anyone want to be anything but Golden Eagle?” Denaochi interrupted. “Everyone knows they are the most powerful of the four clans.”
“Not if we go to war!” Akel countered.
“You want to ride on the back of a water insect when we go to war?” He lifted his sharp chin. “I’ll be on the back of an eagle, shitting down on you!”
“Not a Water Strider, a Winged Serpent!”
“Same difference.”
Akel lunged at his little brother, but Denaochi easily dodged his half-hearted blow.
“What’s this talk of war?” their father said, rough anger coloring his voice. “Tova does not war. We have been at peace for three hundred years, since the priesthood united us.”
“Akel’s the one who wants to fight. I want to rule!” Denaochi’s face was so smug Naranpa could only laugh.
“Boys don’t rule in Tova,” Akel countered. “Besides, all you could ever rule is the sewer pile. You and your shitting birds. I’m going to the war college in Hokaia with the scions where I’ll learn to fight.”
“Enough!” their father muttered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, either of you. Do I have fools for sons? Dreaming of being lords and warriors? You’ll be lucky to find work in the mines or in the fields in the east.” He snorted. “The war college is not for the likes of you, Akel. If war comes, you would be nothing but fodder, or worse, a sacrifice on a foreign altar where the Sun Priest has not brought enlightenment. And you, Ochi…” He turned his gaze to the younger boy. “Akel’s right. The only place you’ll ever rule is right here in the Maw, and there’s nothing here worth reigning over but trash.”
“Jeyma,” her mother chided her husband. “They’re only children.”
“They are too old for nonsense.” He glared at his brood, one by one. “Remember well. You’re no Sky Made scions, and you never will be. Get those thoughts out of your head or court misery the rest of your life.”
Silence fell across the small family in the wake of her father’s reprimand. Her mother said nothing, but Naranpa could see her disapproval clear enough in the set of her jaw, the look in her eyes.
“When I go to the celestial tower in Otsa, I will bring you all to visit me,” Naranpa offered, trying to soothe the mood, “and you can ride an eagle, Ochi. And you a winged serpent, Akel. But not to war. Just for fun!”
“I said enough fool talk,” her father grumbled, sounding more tired than angry. “You too, Nara. No more.”
Her promise to her brothers had not come to fruition, of course. Not only because the riders of the great Sky Made clans’ beasts were lords even among the scions and specially chosen from their clans to train for years before they were allowed mounts, but also because by the time Naranpa did leave her home and move to Otsa to become not just a servant, although she had been that, and not just a dedicant, although she was that, too, but the Sun Priest, its highest honor… by that time, her older brother was dead and her younger brother dead in spirit. She was not sure of her parents’ final fates, but she assumed them dead, too. She had never gone back to find out.
Because her father had been right. The truth was that as much as she loved the city, the city did not love her back. It had little use for a Maw beggar girl; some use for a clever servant who caught the attention of the aging and eccentric Sun Priest; more use for an unlikely dedicant who had an uncanny ability to read the stars and outshine her society classmates; and a final and blistering use for an idealistic young Sun Priest who thought she could make a change to her beloved city but instead only made enemies.
Again and again, Tova forced her to earn its regard, and she had done so every time. She comforted herself with the fact that she had not done it for glory, or for power, but for the worst reason of all.
Faith. Faith in this place she called her home.
But, she thought as she lay under the witch’s blanket plagued by memories of her childhood and her foolish fantasies, blood drying on her skin and salt burning her mouth, faith is not going to save me now.
CHAPTER 4
CITY OF TOVA
YEAR 325 OF THE SUN
(20 DAYS BEFORE CONVERGENCE)
It is declared that all roads both on Earth and in Sky converge at the Celestial Tower in Tova. It is declared to be the sacred duty of the Watchers of the Tower to maintain the Balance between what is above us and what is below. It is they who shall study the patterns of Sun and Moon and prophesy accordingly; they who shall ensure that the Rain falls and the Maize grows; they who shall raise up Reason and Science and labor to cast down the bloodthirsty gods of old. If they fail in their Task, all know that War may come again, and the people will suffer. But the Watchers will suffer worst of all, for they will be the first to Die.