The People of the Black Sun (47 page)

A messenger had arrived late last night informing them that the Hills nation would be sending a delegation to negotiate with the New Hills nation. They'd spent most of the night discussing what they would say. Gwinodje wore a plain doeskin cape with no decorations, as did Kwahseti. If they were forced to become a separate nation, they would immediately change their cape designs, and wanted to foster no wrong ideas about their loyalty in the minds of the delegation from Atotarho Village.

Gwinodje gripped the palisade. “Is that Yi? Her white cape has red paw prints.”

Short gray hair blew around Kwahseti's eyes when she turned to look at Gwinodje. Her friend's heart-shaped face had flushed with excitement. “Yes, that's Yi.”

Leafless maples and a few towering chestnuts swayed along the path, casting windblown shadows over the delegation's distinctive capes.

Kwahseti scrutinized the face she saw in the white hood. Yi had seen forty-eight summers. Silver strands glittered in her short black hair. She walked with her back straight, her bearing stately, demanding respect. Deep wrinkles cut around her mouth and across her forehead. Yi had her gaze focused on the catwalk where Kwahseti and Gwinodje stood, already taking command. In clan meetings, Yi traditionally said little, but each careful word had a knifelike quality, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Kwahseti was of Yi's lineage, but she lifted her chin and stared back at the leader of her ohwachira with defiance. Kwahseti had been instructed by the Ruling Council of the New People of the Hills to give no ground until she knew where the Old Hills nation stood on two issues: the position of the High Matron, and the Peace Alliance.

Kwahseti leaned over the palisade and called, “War Chief Thona, allow only the matrons inside the gates. Their warriors remain outside. No exceptions.”

He craned his neck to look up at her. The web of scars on his face had a white sheen. “But what if they wish to have guards, Matron?”

“As a sign of good faith, we agreed to speak with them, but we owe them nothing. No guards, Thona.”

Thona bowed obediently. “Yes, Matron.”

As Yi approached, her eyes narrowed, and fixed upon Kwahseti. Kwahseti did not bow in respect, as was customary. She kept her back stiff and straight. A slight smile touched Yi's lips.

Yi called, “Matron Kwahseti, we wish you a pleasant morning.” She extended a hand to the Bear Clan matron standing beside her. “This is Little Matron Adusha.”

Without further delay, Kwahseti said, “A pleasant morning to both of you. Order your warriors to lay down their weapons.”

Yi stared at her with her mouth open. When she finally found her voice, she cried, “That is an
outrageous
demand. Surely you don't expect us to leave our war party completely vulner—”

“We do, Matron Yi. Your forces attacked us only a few days ago.” Kwahseti's hand swept across the vista. “As you can see from our charred palisade and the freshly dug graves to the east of the village, you killed many of our people.”

Yi's mouth pressed into a hard white line. Indignant, Yi's face turned ugly. She looked like she might turn around and leave. But after five heartbeats, she called, “War Chief, order your warriors to lay down their weapons.”

A commotion rose across the field, disgruntled warriors crying out in opposition … but they did it. Clattering sounded as bows, quivers, war clubs, and other weapons were all placed on the ground.

Kwahseti said, “War Chief Thona, allow the matrons inside our gates, but only the matrons.”

“
W
hat?”
Yi cried. “I will not enter this village without guards!”

“You will, Yi, if you wish to address the Ruling Council of the New People of the Hills. Our wounds are still bleeding. We will allow no enemy warriors inside these gates.”

After a staring match where Yi's eyes blazed like freshly flaked mahogany chert, she said, “Very well. Open the gates.”

Kwahseti nodded to Thona who pulled the gates open just wide enough for them to enter one at a time. After Yi and Adusha slid through, he closed them tight, and the warriors dropped the locking plank into place with a loud thump.

Gwinodje started to hurry down to meet them, but Kwahseti subtly gripped her arm to stop her. “Make them wait for us. They are not our leaders. We are not part of their nation.”

Gwinodje wet her lips nervously. “You're right.”

Kwahseti and Gwinodje continued to stand on the catwalk, watching as their four hundred warriors completely encircled Yi's two-hundred-strong escort. As expected the Old Hills warriors called and glared threateningly. The New Hills warriors had been ordered to say nothing to their enemies. They stood in perfect silence with arrows nocked and ready to be loosed at their enemies' hearts. It was a magnificent sight.

“All right, Gwinodje. You lead the way to the council house—slowly. We are in no hurry. They requested this meeting, we agreed with reluctance. I'll walk at Yi's side. Since she has always been the leader of my ohwachira, I owe her that much.”

“I understand.”

They climbed down the ladder to the plaza and walked shoulder-to-shoulder toward the two enemy matrons. Yi, her eyes half-slitted, watched Kwahseti's every move. Little Matron Adusha had a thin face and sharply pointed nose. Her expression was subdued, even apologetic. Kwahseti didn't know her well, but she'd always liked her.

When Kwahseti and Gwinodje stopped before them, Adusha bowed and remained down for a long time before she straightened to face them. In a soft voice, she said, “I offer my deepest condolence for your recent losses, matrons. Let me tell you that the Bear Clan requested this meeting. We beg that you hear what we have to say.”

“We will hear you, Adusha. Please follow Matron Gwinodje to the council house.” She extended a hand toward the round log structure squatting to the left of the plaza along the eastern wall.

Adusha looked at the hundreds of people crowding the plaza, and swallowed hard at the hatred that contorted her relatives' faces. Canassatego Village had just finished burying its dead. Their hearts were raw. They had no love for these women who, as members of the Ruling Council of the Old People of the Hills, had undoubtedly given the orders for the attack that killed their loved ones.

Kwahseti walked to Yi's side and gestured for her to follow Adusha and Gwinodje. Yi complied.

As they walked, Yi spoke in a quiet voice, for Kwahseti's ears alone, “Where is Matron Zateri?”

“
High
Matron Zateri is not available today.”

Yi gave her a look that would have frozen lava. “Are you telling me that she refuses to meet with us? That is unaccept—”

“You have no rights here, Yi. None at all. If our High Matron deems it unnecessary to—”

“The former Bear Clan High Matron is dead.”

Kwahseti stopped dead in her tracks to stare wide-eyed at Yi.
“Dead?”

Yi glanced around, studying the inquisitive faces of the people crowding in around them. “Let's keep walking. There may be Bear Clan members standing close. They need to hear this from their own clan. I just wanted you to know that I, too, keep my promises. I gave you my oath that I would do what I could to help you.”

Kwahseti stared dumbly at Yi, not certain what to say.
Kelek is dead?
She felt herself deflating like a water bag being emptied.

In a friendly gesture, Yi slipped her arm through Kwahseti's, and they continued toward the council house as though close companions of many trials—which they had been until recently.

Blood pounded in Kwahseti's ears. “How did it happen?”

Yi murmured, “The Bear Clan has honor. We brought forward the witnesses. When they grasped the problem, they took care of it.”

“Because they wished to avoid a blood feud with the Wolf Clan?”

Kwahseti stood one head taller than Yi. When Yi tilted her head to look up at Kwahseti, the bruised crescents beneath her dark eyes shown purple. She'd endured many sleepless nights of late. “No one wanted it to come to that, least of all our clan.”

As they rounded the curve of the council house and the leather door curtain came into view, Kwahseti asked, “So, she's dead. What now?”

Yi's head waffled. “That remains to be seen. Are you of my lineage, or have you founded your own lineage, as well as your own nation?”

Kwahseti's chest moved with a low disbelieving laugh. She walked ahead, leaving Yi to catch up with her. Four guards stood outside the entry, including War Chief Waswanosh. She dipped her head to him, drew the entry curtain aside, and held it back while Yi entered the council house. Yi exchanged a potent glance with her before she stepped inside.

Kwahseti turned to Waswanosh. “For the moment, this is a closed council meeting. Let no one enter without permission from a member of the Ruling Council.”

“Of course, Matron.”

Kwahseti let the curtain fall closed behind her. As it swayed, dawn light flashed through the council house, illuminating the three circles of benches around the central fire, and the fifty council members seated upon them. Yi had not waited for her. She'd resolutely marched down the central aisle alone and gone to stand beside Gwinodje and Adusha in the orange gleam of the flames. They made an interesting trio. Gwinodje's slender frame looked childlike standing stiffly between the two taller women. Gwinodje and Adusha both had coal black hair that almost disappeared in the darkness, while the silver threads in Yi's hair glittered like sunlit webs.

Kwahseti silently walked forward to take her place on the first ring of benches with the other elders from Riverbank Village. Chief Riverbank sat to her right. He had seen fifty-four summers. Wispy white hair clung to his freckled scalp. He was a large man, larger than life, black-eyed, ominous, and slow-talking, he'd lost his entire family in last moon's plague, then he'd been forced to abandon his village, leaving it to be burned to the ground. Yet he looked at her with clear calm eyes, ready for anything. Over the past five summers, since Kwahseti had become the Village Matron, she had come to appreciate him greatly. He would speak his heart. Always his heart. He engaged in neither guile nor fits of temper.

Riverbank gave her a questioning look, as though he sensed she had news.

Kwahseti beckoned him to lean down, and whispered in his ear,
“The Bear Clan High Matron is dead at the hands of her own clan.”

Riverbank drew back suddenly. He gazed at her as if for confirmation. Kwahseti nodded, and he squeezed his eyes closed and bowed his head. She couldn't tell if it was in mourning or overwhelming relief.

Kwahseti had both galloping through her veins, so perhaps he did, as well.

Gwinodje raised her hands to the assembly, and called, “We come together at the request of the Bear Clan of the Old People of the Hills. Matron Yi from Atotarho Village and Little Matron Adusha of Turtleback Village have been empowered to speak on behalf of the old Ruling Council.”

Every time Gwinodje had used the word “old,” Yi had flinched. She squared her shoulders and stared boldly out at the congregation of elders seated on the benches around her.

Gwinodje turned to Yi. “Matron Yi? As the eldest great-grandmother here, would you address this council first?”

Yi extended a hand to Adusha. “I yield the privilege to Little Matron Adusha of the Bear Clan.”

Gwinodje nodded for Adusha to proceed.

Adusha wet her lips and stepped forward. As she clasped her hands before her, she called out, “I believe, regardless of the terrible injustices that have been committed by a handful of traitors, that this is one nation, and I will address you, with all the love in my heart, as my relatives.”

Whispers passed around the benches. Many heads shook violently. A general din of competing voices arose.

Gwinodje lifted her hands again. “Please, Little Matron Adusha entered our village unarmed and without guards. She deserves our utmost courtesy. I ask that you listen carefully to her words before you make any judgments.”

The assembly reluctantly hushed, anxiously awaiting the next volley from the other side.

Adusha seemed to have prepared herself for the hostility. She mildly looked around, meeting and holding gazes as she scanned the fifty people seated upon the benches around the fire. In a deeply apologetic voice, she continued, “You were betrayed. We know that now.”

Another flurry of voices rose and dwindled.

Adusha continued, “I am not your enemy. I give you my oath. I was one of the witnesses who testified on
your
behalf before our Ruling Council. You see, I was there in the Wolf Longhouse when Matron Zateri's grandmother was murdered.” She patiently waited until the voices died down. “Though I didn't know who he was at the time, I saw the terrible witch, Ohsinoh, enter her chamber. He left very quickly, and when we went to check on the High Matron we found her dead.”

The council house hummed with conversation. Rumors that High Matron Tila had been murdered had been flying about like summer bats, but no one in the New Hills nation knew their truth until this moment. Kwahseti was as stunned as everyone else.

Adusha called, “Let me tell you what conclusions our Ruling Council has come to after listening to many witnesses brought forward by the Wolf Clan elders.”

Yi inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out. Her wrinkled face had rearranged into somber lines.

“First, Atotarho's personal guards testified that they had accompanied the Chief to the Bear Clan longhouse in Atotarho Village the night before the High Matron's murder. The Chief told the Bear Clan matron that he had ‘a proposition' he thought she would appreciate. It seems clear that in exchange for retaining his position as chief, and being given free rein to make war on distant nations, he offered to claim that the murdered High Matron had named the Bear Clan matron as her successor.” Only the crackle of the fire filled her pause. All eyes focused unblinking on Adusha. “Matron Zateri of Coldspring Village is clearly the rightful High Matron of
our
nation.”