The People of the Black Sun (23 page)

Yi's face slackened. Murder was the worst crime. It placed an absolute obligation on the relatives of the dead to avenge the murder. They could demand reparations, exotic trade goods, finely tanned beaver robes, food. They could also claim the life of the murderer, or the life of another member of his clan, including the new High Matron's life. Such a blood feud would devastate both clans and tear what was left of the Hills People apart.

“Tell me about the storm.”

The messenger's head jerked up. “How do you know of it?”

“Hundreds of our warriors have been flooding in for days. It's all they can speak of. That and the fact that Zateri and her friends apparently managed to create an alliance between three nations, or portions of three nations.”

Awe filled his sparkling eyes. “Then you already know—”

“I wish to hear every detail, Skanawati.”

“Yes, Matron, forgive me.” He took a breath and let it out haltingly. “Gods, Matron, the storm … it was … enormous. It came boiling over the eastern hills like the wrath of the ancestors. I—”

“What was happening in the battle before the storm?”

The warrior seemed to refocus his thoughts. “The Flint People had just joined the fight on Matron Zateri's side. The fighting was ferocious. When it started to look as though we had the upper hand, Chief Atotarho dragged Zateri's daughter from his war lodge—”

“What?”
Her heart seemed to stop. “I've heard nothing of this! Atotarho had Zateri's last surviving daughter?”

Skanawati swallowed hard. “Yes. Actually, though, I said that incorrectly, Matron. The Bluebird Witch, Ohsinoh, dragged little Kahn-Tineta from the chief's lodge, where the chief had apparently been keeping her in case he needed—”

“To use her against Zateri and Hiyawento?” she said in shock. “Are you suggesting that Chief Atotarho was working with … with the most evil witch in the land?”

“He was, Matron. Clearly.”

Yi stalked before the fire while blood rushed in her ears. “We wondered what happened to the girl. The day the former High Matron died, Kahn-Tineta and her cousin, Pedeza, vanished. We looked everywhere for them.” She suddenly felt very weary. “All right. Finish telling me about the storm.”

He nodded. “First, Matron, I should tell you that I was there. I was fighting not more than ten paces from Hiyawento when it happened. I saw these things with my own eyes.”

“Go on.”

“Chief Atotarho shouted at Hiyawento, ‘You dare to defy me! I should kill your daughter before your eyes! I will kill her if your forces do not surrender and pledge themselves to me.'” Skanawati paused to take a breath. “Truly, Matron, Hiyawento looked like he was dying inside. He told Atotarho he didn't have the authority to order such a thing, that only the matrons could approve—”

“I know that. Continue.”

“Atotarho told him to get the authority, and as Hiyawento trotted across the battlefield for the matrons' camp to the south, War Chief Sindak ordered your forces to disengage, to back away”—
Your forces, not
our
forces. How can I ever repair this?
—“then Ohsinoh hissed something to Sky Messenger, something I couldn't hear, but the words affected him like stilettos plunged into his heart. He staggered. Then Sindak said, ‘Chief, end this battle. You're asking your warriors to murder their cousins!' He—”

“Sindak was right. It should have never happened.”

“Yes, well, then Sky Messenger said, as you just did, ‘Sindak's right. Chief, clear the battlefield so we can talk to one another. Please, just give me fifty heartbeats.' Atotarho laughed, Matron. He laughed out loud and told Sky Messenger that he'd always been a coward.” Skanawati's eyes went huge, as though seeing it again. In a reverent voice, he continued, “That's when Sky Messenger stepped away and lifted his hands to Elder Brother Sun. He shouted across the battlefield, ‘This war must end! We're killing Great Grandmother Earth!'”

Skanawati halted. He started breathing hard. “Matron, it was…”

He shook his head, as though he still couldn't believe what he'd seen.

She waited.

He blinked, and his eyes returned to her. “There was a strange far-off rushing sound. We all turned to the east, and people started asking so many questions, the battlefield hummed. Then, and I swear to you this is true, this is how it happened.”

“Tell me.”

“It—it was though the mist was suddenly sucked away. The sunlight was so bright and sparkling, it hurt. The rushing started growing louder, and louder, then a black wall boiled over the forest and swelled upward into the sky. It rose so high it blotted out Elder Brother Sun's face. As it flooded toward us, the roar shook the ground. It sounded like a monstrous growling creature straight out of the old stories. We all broke and ran, trying to find any shelter we could.”

She clenched her fists at her sides. “I heard that Sky Messenger did not run.”

“That's true, Matron. He—he grabbed Kahn-Tineta and held her in his arms as he turned to face the storm. It was madness. We all knew he'd be killed. Trees were exploding as the storm came on. Branches, leaves, and whole trunks blasted upward into the spinning darkness.”

Skanawati seemed lost in memories again.

“And then what happened?”

He jerked at the sound of her voice. “Oh”—he licked his lips—“sorry. The storm … I swear. I swear to you … the storm parted and mist, like clouds, formed on Sky Messenger's cape. It looked like he was wearing a cape of white clouds and riding the winds of destruction. Just like the old stories about the human False Face who will come at the End time to save us.”

He stopped.

Yi stared into his dazzled eyes, and even she felt awestruck. She let out the breath she'd unwittingly been holding. Could it be true? Stories had been running up and down the trails for over a moon, carrying bits and pieces of Sky Messenger's Dream. Supposedly he'd Dreamed the end of the world. Zateri had tried hard to get all the Hills matrons together to hear the story from Sky Messenger himself. They had refused. Yi had wanted to, but … so many others were against it. Now, much too late, she wished she had listened.

“Skanawati, I wish you to take a message back to Matron Kwahseti.”

He rose to his feet and his dusty cape swayed around him.

“Tell Kwahseti that I will do what I can, but she must promise me that while I am working on the clan's behalf, her warriors will not lift a hand against their relatives.”

Skanawati spread his arms. “Matron Zateri has already given that instruction, Matron. If attacked by your forces, we will defend ourselves, but we will make no hostile moves toward our relatives unless provoked.”

Respect for Zateri swelled in Yi's chest.
She must be considering reunification.
“Tell your matrons I need time. I must find witnesses. There are always witnesses. I will send messengers as necessary to keep her informed of what's happening here.” Yi stabbed a finger at him. “Now, go.”

He bowed. “Yes, Matron.”

Skanawati left in a hurry, ducking through the entry curtains. She heard his feet pound away.

Yi's thoughts raced, trying to figure out how in the world she could …

To her right, the leather curtain parted again. Light flashed, illuminating the thick smoke in the house. Matron Inawa stepped inside. Inawa had seen fifty summers pass, had plump cheeks and a red nose. Gray-streaked black hair hung limply over her shoulders. She fixed Yi with a look that stilled the blood in her veins.

“So,” Inawa said, “you received a messenger, too. Mine came from Gwinodje. Yours?”

“From Kwahseti.”

Inawa walked forward and stood beside Yi, warming her hands over the fire. Inawa's gaze moved up and down the longhouse, noting the positions of those standing close by, before she quietly said, “Tomorrow, with your agreement, I will send word to the other villages. We must call a council meeting of the Wolf Clan matrons to inform them of this news. There are only four of us now.”

“Of course, I agree. You are next in line after Zateri.” Yi stared at the finely woven mats around the fire. Light danced in the herringbone patterns.

Inawa leaned closer to her to whisper, “It is one little girl's voice against the Chief's voice, but if the former High Matron really did name Zateri as her successor—”

“One little girl's voice won't be enough, Inawa. Someone saw something, or overheard a conversation, or was part of a conversation. We must find the witness. After our meeting, the village matrons, Ganon and Edot, must return to Turtleback Village and Hilltop Village and start asking questions—and you and I must do the same here. There had to be someone nearby in the Wolf Clan longhouse when the High Matron died. Someone heard something that day.”

Inawa's gaze locked with Yi's. “If Kelek catches wind of our questions, we may not survive long enough to bring the issue before the Ruling Council. If we're wrong, the Bear Clan will charge us with treason and declare a blood oath against us.”

“As we will them if this is true.”

Yi's gaze drifted down the length of the longhouse, meeting the eyes of those who watched them. Even though they'd kept their voices very low, people with good ears had at least caught words, maybe a phrase here or there. Just as people had that fateful day when Tila died and Kelek became the High Matron.

Softly, she said, “Who should we select as our messengers? They must be absolutely loyal to the Wolf Clan.”

 

Nineteen

High above Gonda, pink Cloud People continued to glide slowly across the glacial blue sky. Their rich colors stood in stark contrast to those of Bur Oak Village, still cloaked in the iron-gray shadows before dawn. Snow outlined every undulation in the bark walls of the longhouses, and frost sheathed the palisade poles like a fine glitter of quartz crystals. Throughout the plaza, people moved as though their shoulders were weighted with lead. The feel of doom pervaded the morning.

Gonda folded his arms. He stood two paces away from where Jigonsaseh, Kittle, and Sindak engaged in a quiet debate outside the council house. The meeting of the Ruling Council had begun two hands of time ago, long before dawn, and just concluded. People were filtering back across the village, heading to the warmth of their own chambers. There had been no panicked shouting or fists shaken, no accusations that they'd made a mistake staying here rather than abandoning the village and moving on … though they would come. Instead, the last remnant of the once great Standing Stone nation had discussed their possible annihilation with a degree of dignity and logic that stunned Gonda.

Kittle tucked shoulder-length black hair behind one ear and gave Sindak a poignant look. “Tell me what Atotarho wants. You should know. You're his former war chief.”

Sindak calmly replied, “Only he can see the tracks of his own souls, Matron, but I fear he is utterly mad. I think his soul was stolen by his witch sister many summers ago.”

Gonda was an outsider from a destroyed village, a refugee who'd thrown himself upon the mercy of Bur Oak Village. He really had no right to comment unless asked a direct question by the matrons, but it was hard to keep his mouth closed. For many summers, he had served as a deputy war chief, then as the Speaker for the Warriors of White Dog Village. It didn't matter that his village no longer existed, the need to participate in decision-making persisted.

“But surely he plans to attack us this morning. Tell me—”

“I'm not sure of that,” Sindak replied uncomfortably.

“What are you talking about?” Kittle gestured wildly to the world beyond the palisades. “His forces are on the move, getting into position around us.”

Jigonsaseh's arm muscles bulged through her white cape. In the lavender gleam, the silver threads in her short black hair glinted. “I think Sindak is right, Kittle.”

“About what?” Kittle demanded to know. “he's told us nothing!”

Sindak clamped his jaw. “High Matron, if I had to guess, I would say Chief Atotarho is not planning to attack today.”

“How can you say that? He's—”

“Because, Kittle,” Jigonsaseh interrupted, “he's not moving his warriors into attack positions. From what I can tell, they are moving into areas where there's better protection from the wind, off the hilltops, and down into the valley, closer to water, near the ponds and creeks.”

Kittle ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair. Her large dark eyes had a strained tightness. “Which means what?”

Sindak answered, “Maybe he's giving you time to truly panic.”

“
Truly
panic? Truly? That's an interesting choice of words.” She glanced at him like he was a fool.

Jigonsaseh shifted, and the black bear paws encircling the bottom of her white cape seemed to be bounding away. At twelve hands tall, she looked down upon everyone else in the circle. Blessed gods, she was still beautiful. Even at thirty-nine summers, with silver threads streaking her black hair, the sight of her oval face, jet black eyes, and full lips went straight to Gonda's soft spots—and he was married to another, a good woman named Pawen. But he'd been wed to Jigonsaseh for twelve summers. He couldn't help the way he felt. A part of him would always love her.