The People of the Black Sun (29 page)

As more of the campfires of the dead blazed to life outside, the prismatic reflections through the runoff streaming from the roof strengthened, swathing the rockshelter with what appeared to be a thousand silverfish swimming through a stardust ocean.

“Weyra will first note that you have no food to redistribute, and even after you tell her that the Flint nation will contribute to the cause, she'll say it won't be enough. How will you respond?”

He drew her hand to his heart and held it there. “I'll say she's right. This winter. However, next autumn the alliance will pool its harvests, so that we all have enough.”

“Providing the crops are good.”

“That is a given.”

“And providing you can talk them into it, which won't be easy.”

“I still have to promise her that we can.”

“Yes, you do.”

He frowned. “What else will she say?”

“Next, she'll tell you that the members of your pitiful alliance are too far away to help protect Landing villages from the Mountain People raiders. The Mountain People are their closest and most dangerous enemies.”

His elbow shifted upon the folds of woven fox-hide blankets. “If we create a war party and station it on the border between the Mountain and Landing peoples, they can block raids into Landing country.”

“Who will compose such a war party?”

“Warriors from every nation.”

“That's idealistic. How will you feed so many warriors?”

He gave Baji a lockjawed glare, as though he wished she hadn't asked that. After ten heartbeats, he answered, “I suppose every member of the alliance will have to provide for its own warriors.”

“Which means they won't send warriors to serve in the war party.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. What else?”

“That's all I can think of for now.”

“Think they'll kill us on sight?”

Her grip tightened on his hand. “That's what I'd do.”

“Well,” he replied reasonably, “if they do, we won't have to solve all of these hard problems for High Matron Weyra.”

Baji lay for a moment, not certain what to say. It was the first time he'd ever sounded so casual about his own life. She didn't like it. She released his hand and rearranged herself into a cross-legged position at his side, looking down at him. Her long hair fell forward in a black torrent. “Do not ever speak to me so offhandedly about your death again, or I'll—”

“Beat me to death to spite me?”

“Don't joke.”

He laughed softly and forcefully took her hand again, though she tried to pull it away. “Let me hold it. Until your head wound is better it's one of the few things I can touch.”

She smiled and yielded. As he stroked her fingers, she said, “I think you need to remember the lessons Wakdanek taught you.”

“Wakdanek? The Dawnland Healer? There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him.” His deep voice turned soft, like cattail down against the skin. “He told me that everything in the world is related. People, animals, trees, stones, the Faces of the Forest, the Cloud People. We are all One. I remember Wakdanek telling Sindak that every time he placed his fingers upon a branch, the tree recognized him, and that if he listened he could hear the tree calling his name, trying to reach across the gulf that separated them to touch his heart.”

“What did Sindak say?”

“He said that was usually when the first blow landed.”

Baji chuckled. “That sounds like Sindak.”

“Yes.” Sky Messenger seemed to be lost in memories, smiling sadly. He caressed her hand. “Wakdanek also said that because all things are related, we must name our enemies carefully, because killing the enemy has only one outcome: We kill a part of our own soul. And by doing so, we cripple the world itself.”

Baji laced her fingers with his and squeezed hard to get his full attention. When his gaze focused on her, she asked, “Do you believe him?”

“With all my heart.”

“Then you must carry his words with you when you enter Shookas Village.”

He stroked her hair. “I will. Thank you for helping me, Baji.”

In a quiet voice, she answered, “That's why I'm here.”

 

Twenty-six

The scent of hickory smoke filled the council house in Atotarho Village. A round structure forty paces across, it had been constructed of log saplings and roofed with elm bark. Six rings of wooden benches encircled the central fire. High Matron Kelek restlessly paced from one side of the house to the other, moving through the flickering firelight like a lone ghost.

Hadui buffeted the walls, rushing between the bark slabs and banging the sacred False Face masks that hung around the house. On occasion, he whistled or whimpered through their contorted mouths.

Kelek drew her long buckskin cape closed beneath her wrinkled chin and tried to keep her eyes off the large mask that hung to her left. The old stories said it had been created by Hadui himself. Called
He-of-Divided-Body,
the mask seemed to be trying to get her attention; its shell-inlaid eye sockets flashed, while a soft eerie hooting erupted from its mouth.
He-of-Divided-Body
was a Powerful Spirit. During the Creation, Hadui had traveled to a place where lay the body of a freshly dead human, and exclaimed, “Come, you who are my brother,” then he'd bent down and divided the corpse in half. Taking up one half of the cold flesh, he'd conjoined it with half of his own Spirit body, and the two halves had become one. As a result, one half of the mask's head was covered with white human hair and the other half glistened with Hadui's coal black hair.
He-of-Divided-Body
was a creature of life and death, human and supernatural, of death and Requickening. One half of his face was red, the other black. He had chosen to live forever on the earth in the forests, so that he could help human beings in time of need.

Kelek refused to face him. Instead, she turned her attention to the door, watching for Little Matron Adusha. Adusha led the Bear Clan in Turtleback Village. Scouts had seen her hurrying up the southern trail with two guards. Kelek had ordered that she be escorted to the council house when she arrived, but that had been more than one-half hand of time ago. What was taking so long?

He-of-Divided-Body
let out a long shrill wail that chilled Kelek's blood. As though to emphasize his words, he shuddered violently, battering the wall. She looked around. Every mask seemed to be rocking back and forth, as if ready to leap from the walls and pounce upon her elderly body in punishment for her crimes.

“I did what I had to,” she hissed at them. “It was my duty to increase the Power of the Bear Clan! Any matron would have…”

The flapping door curtain was shoved aside and, as Adusha entered the council house, her plain moosehide cape whipped about her red leggings. Sweat plastered her short black hair to her round face, accentuating the width of her flat nose and thinness of her lips. A short woman, she had a husky voice. “I apologize for being late, High Matron.”

She strode forward with her guards. The man to her left was tall and muscular. Kelek didn't know him, but he was Wolf Clan. Yi's lineage. Red paw prints encircled the bottom of his black cape. The man to Adusha's right was Hikatoo. Of average height, handsome in a boyish way, he had seen thirty summers. Kelek knew his grandmother well. Snipe Clan. For several summers, Hikatoo had been one of Atotarho's personal guards.

“Your messenger said to expect you at noon,” Kelek called irritably.

“Yes, well, I've never seen Hadui this violent. He's ripping whole trees from the ground and casting them across the trails that lead into Atotarho Village. It's as though he's trying to block off the village to isolate you, High Matron. We were forced to veer around many such obstacles.”

Kelek stiffened, frowning at the comment.

Adusha stopped less than a pace from Kelek. “I assume you know Hikatoo.” She extended a hand to the guard on her left. “This is War Chief Tajan from Hilltop Village.”

Kelek's gaze slowly examined the man. “Yi's lineage.”

“I am, yes.” The man's dark eyes had an eerie gleam.

This isn't right. Adusha is a Bear Clan matron from Turtleback Village. She should have Bear Clan guards.

“I hope things are well in Hilltop Village, War Chief. It is not usual for—”

“No, but nothing is ‘usual' is it?” Adusha folded her arms tightly beneath her heavy moose-hide cape. “Things are not well in the world outside Atotarho Village, Kelek.”

“I assume you're referring to the war.”

“I'm referring to the fact that Hilltop and Turtleback villages are buzzing with the news that on her deathbed our former High Matron told Zateri's daughter she planned to name Zateri to replace her when she was gone.”

Kelek lifted her chin to stare down her nose in disdain. “It's a rumor, nothing more.”

Tajan's piercing gaze was like a hot lance thrust into Kelek's vitals.

Kelek waved a hand. “Come, come, you don't believe it, do you? Zateri probably told her daughter to say it in the hopes of ousting the Bear Clan.”

Adusha shook her head gravely, and the War Chief shifted to prop his hand on his belted war club. At the strange threatening gesture, Kelek bristled and straightened.

“Your behavior is outrageous. What is the meaning of this?”

Adusha softly said, “Turtleback Village and Hilltop Village received messengers. Both villages called council meetings so everyone could hear the story from the messenger himself. The man who came to Turtleback Village repeated the girl's story perfectly and it was filled with so many small details that no child could have made them up. They could only have come from our former High Matron.”

Kelek swallowed hard. No messenger had come to her, but she knew the story. Already four separate versions were circulating around Atotarho Village. “So … Turtleback Village believes it?”

“Every person outside of the Bear Clan believes it.”

She glanced at the guards who nodded slightly. “And the Bear Clan? What's being said by our own relatives?”

Adusha's folded arms tightened, bulging beneath her cape. After Coldspring, Riverbank, and Canassatego villages split away, there were only three villages left in the true Hills nation: Turtleback Village, Hilltop Village, and Atotarho Village. No matter the cost, they had to remain united.

“I think most of our relatives believe it, too.”

Kelek started pacing again to release some of her anxiety. “War Chief Tajan? What is the opinion of Hilltop Village?”

“Our village council believes Zateri is the rightful High Matron,” he responded bluntly.

Kelek snorted. “And just how do they speculate that I became High Matron if not through the words of our former High Matron? Is the Bear Clan being accused of wrongdoing?”

Adusha unfolded her arms and lowered them to her sides where she clenched her fists. “Not the Bear Clan. Just you, Kelek. It is being whispered that you conspired with Chief Atotarho to deny Zateri her rightful place—”

“Other than a child's word, what evidence is there to support this claim?”

Hikatoo's eyes narrowed, as though he knew something.

Adusha said, “Some people—the kind ones who love you—say that Atotarho lied to you when he told you that our former High Matron had named you to succeed her, and you unwittingly accepted the position without further verification. After all, we were headed off to war with the Standing Stone villages. There was no time, and someone had to lead the nation.”

Kelek hesitated. “And what is being said by those who do not love me?”

Adusha stared at her. “They say you so coveted the position that you were the one who approached Atotarho. That you offered him—”

“I most certainly did not!”

“No? Well, those who have ears find it odd that as soon as you ascended to the High Matronship you announced the marriage of your granddaughter to Atotarho.” She cocked her head in a distasteful accusatory manner. “Is it true that you agreed to link Atotarho to the Bear Clan so he could remain as chief?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” Kelek ordered. “It is impudent. I am the High Matron!”

Adusha's glare dimmed only slightly. “High Matron, these are perilous times. Our nation is split down the middle and Hills People are killing other Hills People. I am under orders to discover the truth. The other leaders of the Bear Clan are deeply worried that these rumors are true.”

Kelek's knees felt slightly weak. In a dignified manner, she eased down to the bench beside the fire and straightened her buckskin cape around her. As she primly laced her hand in her lap, she said, “Go on. I need to hear every word.”

“Our elders fear that you worked with Atotarho to kill the former High Matron—”

“How dare they! I did not!”