Under such circumstances, the smart thing to do would have been to keep her head down, follow convention to a fault, and live out her appointment in comfort. But she did not believe the priesthood had the luxury of her inattention. Kiutue had been content for the position to become more ceremonial than managerial, and the power the seat had once held had drained to the other societies. Unfortunately, none of the other societies was much concerned with the world outside the tower. The dedicant Naranpa had watched as the priesthood became more disconnected from the city with each passing year. It was a sorry fate for an institution that had once been the great unifying force on the continent. She would not be idle while her beloved priesthood eroded further under her watch.
As she turned back to the road, she caught sight of a dedicant who had the bridge railing in a death grip. Rather than sway with the motion of the bridge, the dedicant was fighting it on locked knees.
That one is going to make themselves ill, Naranpa thought.
“Lead on,” she whispered to Haisan as she slowed her pace to let the other priests pass.
“Where are you going?” Haisan asked, alarmed.
“I’ll only be a moment. Just…” She motioned him forward, and he did as he was told. Good old Haisan. At least she could always rely on his ability to follow orders. Abah watched her, no doubt curious, and Iktan didn’t acknowledge her, but she knew xir eyes were on her anyway. She fell into step beside the dedicant, who looked up in surprise at their new companion.
“S-s-sun Priest?” the dedicant stuttered out through chattering teeth and a face gone pale with fear. A thin line of sweat blossomed at their temples despite the cold.
“The bridges are sturdy,” Naranpa said reassuringly. “We won’t fall.”
“Oh, yes. I-I know. Tovan engineers are the best in the world. B-but… so many people crossing at the same time.” The dedicant glanced back. “Is it smart to walk all at once? I mean, even great things fail.”
“These bridges have never failed,” Naranpa assured them. She didn’t know if that was true, but now did not seem like the time to quibble. She studied the dedicant. The curl in their hair and the wide set of their eyes suggested they were from the southern part of the continent, but people moved around. Married as they wished. It was best not to presume, even when the dedicant had the audacity to question the permanence of Tovan structures.
“Where do you come from?” Naranpa asked.
“My apologies, Sun Priest. I’m from a small village, nothing you’ve heard of. It is south of here, along a branch of the river Tovasheh we call the Little Seduu, ‘the little old man,’ for the way its back bends.” The dedicant flushed, as if embarrassed by their provincialism. “I’m meant to study healing and bring it back to my village.”
“What is your name?”
“Kwaya.”
“Commendable, Kwaya. Not all are meant to stay in the tower forever. Did you know ‘seduu’ is similar to the Tovan ‘sedoh’?”
“Yes, Sun Priest. We are not so different, although…” They hesitated, and then continued in a rush. “I’ll never understand how you Tovans live like this. My home is in the flatlands, and it seems much more practical to build there. There’s a perfectly good river below us,” they said, without looking beneath their feet. “Why not build the city there?”
“It once was, at least to hear the historians tell it. Some of the original dwellings are still in use in the district of Titidi.” And the Maw, but she didn’t mention that. “But our ancestors built among the cliffs to keep us safe from yours, I believe,” Naranpa said with a patient smile. “We were farmers, and the southerners in the flatlands were raiders of farmers. Besides, we wanted to be closer to the heavens.” She waved a hand around them.
The dedicant made a small horrified sound. “I’m so sorry. About the raids, I mean.”
“I assure you all is forgiven.” Although even as she said it, she remembered her father cursing flatlanders as thieves and uncivilized. Ancient prejudices died hard, even in a city united.
The dedicant looked dubious.
“Do not forget that in the celestial tower, we turn our eyes to the sky. Our duty is to study the patterns of the heavens so that they can be replicated on earth.”
“But that is hawaa society,” the dedicant protested. “I’m only a seegi.”
“Do not healers look to the skies as well to understand the ailments of their patients?”
“Yes, of course,” Kwaya agreed hastily. “I only meant—”
The sway of the bridge ceased as their feet touched Odo. Kwaya exhaled a long fraught breath. Naranpa patted their arm in sympathy, and they gave her a relieved nod. Only five more bridges to go today. She hoped the dedicant would survive.
“Everything well?” Haisan asked worriedly as she rejoined the priests in the front of the procession. Naranpa knew how much he hated any deviation in the order of things.
“Fine,” she assured him. “Only a dedicant who needed a distraction.”
Haisan frowned and glared back from where she had come. “That one is one of Abah’s dedicants. You should have let Abah comfort them.”
“It’s fine, Haisan. The societies assign us our responsibilities, not our hearts. I saw a dedicant in need. That’s all.”
“But—”
“Enough. I’ll comfort whom I wish. Now, pay attention. We are coming into Odo proper.”
Odo was a sad and eerie place. It was the oldest of the Sky Made districts of the city of Tova, and it was the home of clan Carrion Crow. Carrion Crow were one of the original clans to live in the city in the clouds, but their ascendancy had long passed. Now the other clans held the majority of the power in the city, and Odo was tolerated, often pitied. They were a lesson in what happened when one defied the Watchers, and all took heed. In many ways Odo seemed of the city yet not part of it. Tolerated but not loved, which Naranpa understood more than she would have liked.
The bridge deposited them two stories down from the main throughway, and they had to walk up a flight of narrow and well-worn stone stairs to reach the district proper. Once they reached the top, the home of Carrion Crow stood before them. The district was known for the soft volcanic rock from which its earliest homes had been built. When Carrion Crow first claimed the high cliffs, the buildings had been carved into the original walls, and here and there as they walked down the main road, Naranpa still caught sight of these ancient structures hiding down the side alleys or slipped between more recent buildings. Most homes now were made from irregular bricks quarried and fashioned from the same type of volcanic rock but brought in from outside of Tova. And homes now were finished with wood, either charred to match the black bricks or, on more expensive homes and shop fronts, painted a bright crimson red. And everywhere the crow motif, the distinctive crow skull, was woven on the banners hung from walls and carved into the lintels over doorways.
People stood outside their black buildings, lining the streets to watch them pass. Most wore a variation of the common dress of Tova. Woven skirts for all genders or long loincloths that hung to calf length for men, with leggings in the winter, without in warmer weather. Many, the wealthier of the clans especially, wore belts that signified their rank in the clan. String belts were the most common, and then hides and fur that were often beaded elaborately, and then, for the matron and those of the Great House, aprons and cloaks fashioned from black feathers or black jaguar skin, tanned and shined to beauty. The weather was biting, so most wore capes of fur or hide as well. Others had braved the cold to show bodies carved with the haahan that the Crow clan bore on their skin.