The Broken Land (19 page)

The world had a hierarchy. Great Grandmother Earth stood at the top, followed by Grandmother Moon, Wind Mother, Elder Sister Gaha, Elder Brother Sun, and many others. The ohwachira, the basic family unit, was patterned in the same way. An ohwachira was a kinship group that traced its descent from a common mother, and the members were bound together by the strongest tie known: blood. The ohwachira had great power, for it possessed and bestowed chieftainship titles and held the names of the great people of the past. It bestowed those names by raising up the souls of the dead and requickening them in the bodies of newly elected chiefs, adoptees, or other people. In the same way, if a new chief disappointed the ohwachira, after consultation with the clan, it could take back the name, remove the soul, and depose the chief. It was also the sisterhood of ohwachiras that decided when to go to war and when to make peace.

All three ohwachiras of the Wolf Clan were represented today. Tila’s ohwachira was the largest and most powerful; then came Inawa’s ohwachira, and lastly Yi’s ohwachira.

The titles in the ohwachira were logical, beginning with the status of the eldest “mother,” usually great-grandmother, but in rare cases in the past there had been great-great-grandmothers. After great grandmother, came grandmother, then mother.
Mother
had a much deeper meaning than just the woman who gave you birth. It was applied to all of her sisters and to all women of her generation in her sisters’ lines of descent. This often confused members of other nations, for they called these same women
cousins
.

After
mother
came
uncle,
meaning only the mother’s brother. The hierarchy continued to
elder sister, elder brother, younger sister, younger brother, granddaughter, grandson.
Only uncles used the terms
niece
and
nephew.
A person’s title, such as
eldest daughter,
defined her duties and responsibilities to the clan.

The thing that tied the sisterhood of Wolf Clan ohwachiras together was a distant common female ancestor. In this case, their lines all originated with a long-ago ancestor named Dancing Fox. Dancing Fox’s life story had been lost in the mists of time, though legend said she had bravely led the People through a Long Dark filled with monsters and into Elder Brother Sun’s light.

Tila smoothed white hair away from her wrinkled face and softly called, “Come. Let us bring order to the world.”

As the clan mothers seated themselves, Tila looked across the fire at Inawa. Inawa would be her main opponent today, since her ohwachira was next in line to lead the Wolf Clan, and by extension, the nation. Provided, that is, that the Bear Clan didn’t squash Inawa like a bug after Tila’s death, and take over the leadership.

Zateri shifted where she sat on the bench with the other village matrons, clearly uneasy. In a council house filled with great-grandmothers and grandmothers, she must feel very small and insignificant. As she should. Since the deaths of Tila’s two daughters, Zateri was the only female left in Tila’s direct line. She would lead Tila’s ohwachira in the near future—if she chose to, and if the other mothers of the Wolf Clan did not seriously oppose her. She had disgraced herself eight summers before when she’d established Coldspring Village without the approval of the clan. Only Tila’s political maneuvering, calling in every favor she’d ever earned in her sixty-five summers, had saved Zateri from being declared an Outcast.

Tila lifted one hand and said, “May Great Grandmother Earth hear our voices and guide us in our decisions for the good of all things, great and small. I would speak first, if there are no objections.”

The house went still, waiting. The blue gleam falling through the smoke hole in the roof illuminated Inawa’s and Yi’s elderly faces. Inawa, who had seen fifty summers pass, had plump cheeks and a red nose. Gray-streaked black hair hung limply over her shoulders. Her failing was that she talked too much and had a tendency to veer away from the subject at hand and start relating long disconnected stories. Yi, on the other hand, said little, and each careful word went to the heart of the matter. She had seen forty-eight summers. She sat to Tila’s right, her back straight, her bearing stately, commanding attention. A few silver strands glittered in her short black hair, but deep wrinkles cut around her mouth and across her forehead. Tila heartily wished that Yi’s ohwachira was next in line.

“I have little time left,” Tila began. “Our Healers have done their best for me, but there is no earthly Spirit plant that will cure my illness. They say there is a witch’s charm lodged inside me, but they cannot find it.” She touched her sunken chest and moved her fingers over the swollen lumps. “I have perhaps a few moons. Nothing more.”

A din of whispers began, several heartrending. A pained cry of “no,” rose from the back, but Tila couldn’t identify the speaker. Tila had been a good and fair clan matron. She was, for the most part, greatly loved.

Inawa said, “Then we must work harder to find the witch and force her to remove the charm! And maybe it isn’t a charm, but an ordinary spell. Spells can be killed by killing the witch. It’s a simple matter. I once knew a woman who’d been witched and her blood turned black. By the time anyone realized what was happening one of her feet had rotted and had to be cut off. The next thing—”

“We have the best Healers in the nation, Inawa. I’m sure they’ve correctly assessed my problem.”

Indeed, the Healers had first tried a variety of Spirit Plants, herbs, grasses, and barks; then they’d rubbed her body with ashes to cleanse it. Afterward, they’d attempted to wash away the disease by performing the going-to-water ritual, taking her down to purify in the frigid river while they Sang and shook rattles. It was powerful magic, symbolically submerging her in the river of Great Grandmother Earth’s blood that ran beneath the ground. After each battle, weapons were symbolically cast into that river to cleanse them of the taint of death. It could also cure the taint of witchery. When nothing had worked, her Healers prepared a pot of False Face pudding, burned sacred tobacco, and called upon the Faces of the Forest to aid them. Three of the masks spoke to Healer Towana, telling her a great wind was coming that would flatten the People of the Hills, and all of the Peoples south of Skanodario Lake, but the masks had promised to help the Hills People as much as they could. After relating her Dream, Towana brewed a tea from parched white sunflower seeds and manroot. As the masks had instructed, they’d drunk it together. Which was why the fever had not struck here yet. They were being protected.

“How can the Healers know you are dying?” Yi asked.

“After the going-to-water ritual, Towana saw Sodowego pull the hides from my sleeping body to peer at my face.”

Someone sobbed. No one could mistake the message. Sodowego—the great faceless harbinger of death—had seen her. She could not escape now. Soon, he would come for her.

Inawa wrung her hands and cast an unpleasant glance at Zateri. “Who will succeed you as matron? I notice your granddaughter sitting there, but surely you don’t expect the other ohwachiras to approve of her? She is a divider by nature. How will she ever be able to unify the nation? Don’t you recall when High Matron Dyo of the Snipe Clan nominated her silly daughter to take her place? The girl ruined the entire clan! She couldn’t keep her hands off Traders. That’s why the Snipe Clan lost power and the Wolf Clan took over the nation. We can’t allow—”

Yi said, “Matron Tila is not Dyo. She would not so embarrass the Wolf Clan.”

For a long time, only the crackling of the flames filled the council house. Zateri sat with her chin up, her eyes on Tila, looking totally unaffected by the criticism.

Tila extended a hand to her. “I would have my granddaughter come before the great-grandmothers.”

Zateri’s white cape swayed around her slender body as she slowly walked across the house to stand between Yi and Inawa. They both swiveled on their benches to look up at her.

“I present to the council, my granddaughter, Zateri, matron of Coldspring Village, and the next in line after me to lead the Wolf Clan. I would hear discussion on this matter. Yes, Matron Ganon of Turtleback Village.”

The stocky old woman had stood up instantly, as though she couldn’t bear to hold her tongue another moment. “Your wisdom has been the light of this clan for thirty-three summers, Tila. Not once in all that time have I cast my voice against you in council.” Her arm lifted and swung dramatically to point at Zateri. “But if you select this—this
person,
Turtleback Village will refuse to hear her! Please, I beg you to choose another.”

Inawa quipped, “Ganon’s right. No one will support her. It will be like that time—”

“I will,” a soft voice said from the far corner of the house, followed by another, “I will.” Each woman who’d answered stood up.

Eyes strained to make out faces across the firelit distance. Tila said, “I ask that both of you come forward.”

The matrons walked to stand shoulder to shoulder with Zateri. Only Kwahseti, from Riverbank Village, had moved beyond the level of a little clan matron to serve as the village matron, the leader of all the clans in the village. Though, if rumor was right, old Yana, the current village matron in Canassatego Village, was on her death bed, and Gwinodje was next in line to ascend to that position. Tila recognized Kwahseti first. “Matron Kwahseti of Riverbank Village, please state your reasons.”

Kwahseti smoothed the folds from her buckskin cape and squared her shoulders. She had seen thirty-five summers pass, but looked far older. Her hair had gone almost completely gray. “I know arguments may be made against Matron Zateri. In her youth, she was brash. Since then, I believe she has led her village well. The other clans in Coldspring Village respect her and say she is thoughtful and wise. They follow her without question. Which of us would not love to have that sort of relationship with the other clans in our own villages? And, well, the truth is, the final decision is yours, Tila. We all know that. Your granddaughter has the right to rule, if you so decide. I just wish you to know that I believe, if given a chance, Matron Zateri will lead us with strength and honor.”

Zateri bowed her head and blinked at the fire, as was appropriate.

Tila said, “I recognize Little Matron Gwinodje of Canassatego Village.”

Gwinodje was short and so thin she appeared girlish. From behind, she was often mistaken for a child, as was Zateri. She had her black hair twisted into a tight bun on top of her head. A rabbit-bone skewer secured it. Nervous, she licked her lips. “I have heard Matron Zateri’s warriors tell tales of her courage when dealing with enemy chiefs, and her generosity with captives. Perhaps more importantly, her villagers speak of her with deep respect, and that is the true measure of any matron. I think Matron Zateri would be firm but fair, as you are, Tila. I would embrace her as matron of the Wolf Clan.”

Dissenting voices rose and seemed to boom from the walls. Tila stamped her walking stick on the ground to get their attention. “Would anyone else speak, or do you just wish to argue among yourselves?” No one stepped forward. Tila waited for a time longer before saying, “Then I would call for the casting of voices. Who would support Matron Zateri?”

She turned to Inawa first, who shook her head, and said, “No.”

Yi said, “I ask that you pass me for the moment. I must consider for a time longer.”

Tila smiled to herself. Yi was being smart, waiting to see how her ohwachira voted before she made her opinion known.

“Very well.” Tila started along the eastern wall. “Little Matron Hooje?”

“No.”

“Matron Wenta?”

“No.”

By the time Tila had made it around the house, giving everyone a chance to speak, the pain in her chest was barely endurable. Her lungs did not want to breathe. More than anything, she longed to return to her soft hides and sleep. Instead, she gripped the head of her walking stick and grunted as she rose to her feet to stand before them. “The council is divided on this matter. I give you my oath that I will take every voice into consideration before making my decision. This council is dismissed.” She lifted her chin to Zateri. “Granddaughter, will you walk with me?”

The vote had left Zateri stunned. Her face had gone snow white, her eyes blazing like crystals. She walked around the fire and took Tila’s elbow, supporting her as she made her way across the council house and out into the dawn. The sky had turned opalescent, like the inside of a pink seashell tipped to reflect the sunlight.

When they were almost back to the Wolf longhouse, Zateri halted. She seemed to be staring at the two massive log pillars, the guardians of the longhouse. Carved with the Faces of the Forest and painted in rich shades of red, blue, black, and pure white, they stood on either side of the curtained entry. Each time they moved the village they dug up and moved the pillars, carrying them to the new location. Not even Tila knew for certain how old they were. They had stood since at least her great-grandmother’s childhood. In a measured and peaceful voice, Zateri said, “I’ve made my decision, Grandmother.”

Tila staggered as she turned to look at her. People moved about them, coming and going from the longhouse. “You should wait. Think about it more.”

“I don’t need to. I don’t wish to lead them any more than they wish me to. My answer is no.”

Tila vented a pained sigh. “Your father will not be pleased.”

“No. I’m sure he won’t.” She gently took Tila’s arm. “Let’s get you into the warmth of the longhouse. I’m sorry I kept you outside any longer than necessary.”