The People of the Black Sun (14 page)

Out in the forest, branches smashed into each other as Wind Mother's violent son,
Hadui,
beat his way through the trees and dashed across the hilltop battering anything in his path. He appeared to be headed north, chasing after the flocks of moonlit Cloud People. Whirlwinds of old leaves and twigs careened in his wake. As he rushed through the camps, people cursed in surprise and sparks exploded from fire pits. They trailed through the night sky like swirling ribbons.

Zateri asked, “What do you think we're going to find when we make it to Canassatego Village?”

He wasn't sure how to answer that, though he'd been thinking of little else. “The night I killed the witch, he told me we wouldn't make it home in time.”

“Gods, I pray that was just bluster.” Her eyes reflected the firelight. “Do you think he meant our villages would be destroyed before they could move? If Atotarho did that, our warriors' indignation and rage will be uncontrollable.” She sucked in a breath and exhaled hard. “It will mean civil war.”

He tossed another branch onto the fire, expecting the night to be long and cold. “We started the civil war, my wife, the instant we ordered our warriors to fight against their own nation. Nothing can stop it now.”

Zateri's delicate eyebrows drew together. Thoughtfully, she whispered, “There must be a way.”

 

Eleven

Wind blew Matron Jigonsaseh's hair into her eyes and rattled the wooden beads around her throat. She shoved the strands away, and continued striding across the sunny Bur Oak plaza. She could tell from the sudden gusts and the change in temperature that another storm was coming. They had even less time to complete repairs than she'd thought.

Near the center of the plaza, High Matron Kittle stood observing six warriors who used ropes to pull the new logs into place in the exterior palisade. The men grunted with the effort, and their faces streamed sweat. Autumn had been very rainy, followed by several deep snows. The sodden logs were heavy and unwieldy. The workers struggled to keep them from falling back to the earth and crushing the men beneath.

Jigonsaseh stopped at Kittle's side. Four longhouses arched in a semicircle around them. Lines of men, women, and children filed in and out of each one, carrying pots of water and baskets of seeds, corn, and beans. One woman had dried squash vines around her neck. The squashes, still attached, knocked together as she walked, producing a hollow thumping sound. The villagers wore no capes, just knee-length shirts, dresses, and brightly painted leggings. A light shower of brown autumn leaves pirouetted around them as they worked.

Jigonsaseh counted the number of women carrying water pots. Not enough. She would have to tend to that. They could live far longer without food than they could without water.

Without turning, Kittle asked, “How is our defense?”

“Almost nonexistent. Deploying our warriors outside the palisade is a waste, Kittle. I know that's what the council approved, but—”

“And Wampa?”

Jigonsaseh gauged the hard lines in Kittle's face. There would be no convincing her to shift their forces now. Jigonsaseh sighed, and said, “Though she is the new War Chief of Bur Oak Village, she has no objections to subordinating herself to War Chief Deru for as long as necessary. She knows he has more experience.”

“What of our scouts and lines? Is everyone in place?”

Jigonsaseh quietly took a breath and let it out. “Yes, we have scouts in the tallest trees. As for our lines, we have barely enough warriors to encircle the village. Even then, they are so widely spread out they are almost no protection at all. They will perhaps, be able to let one arrow fly before they'll have to turn tail and run for safety. It's a waste of effort. We should pull them all in to defend the village so that when the scouts signal a warning, we'll be ready.”

Kittle watched the groaning laborers slowly haul the log, hand-over-hand, into place. Muscles bulged and sweat ran down their faces. When the logs were in place, warriors on the catwalk lashed them to the standing logs, securing them into the palisade. Finally, she said, “That's the last section of the exterior palisade to need repairing, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. They're working fast.”

“They'd better. At this rate, we won't even be able to start repairing the longhouses until tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know that,” Kittle said in a clipped voice.

“We must repair the inner palisades first, then we—”

“I know.”
Kittle glared up at her, for Jigonsaseh was two heads taller, and an exhausted expression slackened her features. “There's another subject I'd like to discuss with you, and I want you to tell me the bald facts.”

“Have I ever done otherwise?”

“No, but we've never been in a position like this before.”

Wind tormented her cape until it whipped around her legs in snapping folds. Kittle paused until the gust passed. “If you were Atotarho would you still be in camp, tending your wounded? On your way home? Or on your way here?” A swallow went down her throat. “How much time do we have?”

Jigonsaseh spread her legs and her war club, CorpseEye, swayed where it was tied to her belt. She reached down to wrap her fingers around the smooth polished shaft. It took less than five heartbeats for a tingle of warmth to spread through her palm and up her arm. “Not long, Kittle. He knows how vulnerable we are. However, if he's decided to attack us again, his warriors will be upset, grousing about not being to carry their injured friends and loved ones home. I think he's so crazy now that he doesn't care about tradition or the souls of his dead relatives. I think he'll push this thing to the end.”

Kittle's oval face with its perfect nose and large dark eyes sagged. She tucked her shoulder-length black hair behind her ears, and said simply, “I'd give anything for two hands of sleep.”

No one in either village had slept well last night. The wails and groans of the wounded had wrung shudders from the very wood of the longhouses. Fortunately, the worst off had died during the night. This morning, the bodies had been carried outside to await the burial ceremony, and the last of the wounded had been moved into the Council House. Constant whimpering and cries filled the air.

Out in the forest a flock of jays burst into flight and soared away amid a riot of squawks and chirps. One of their lines had probably shifted and startled the birds.

Jigonsaseh gazed out through the open gates to her own village thirty paces distant. “How much of Yellowtail Village has been cleaned out?”

When they'd decided to repair Bur Oak Village and abandon Yellowtail Village, there had been an outcry among Yellowtail villagers. Every chamber in Yellowtail Village was filled with the injured, or dying. Everyone knew that moving them might kill them. It had required great patience for Jigonsaseh to go to each family and convince them that if they were attacked again, it might be the only way to save their children.

“About half, last I heard.”

Jigonsaseh's eyes narrowed. “If you do not object, I think I'll take over supervising the evacuation. Perhaps I can speed up the process. As you know, many of my villagers are not happy about this move.”

“I would appreciate your help. And”—she exhaled the word—“when that's done, I want you to take over our entire defense.”

Jigonsaseh shifted uneasily. “I will if you wish, but I'm not sure that's a good decision. War Chief Deru is perfectly competent to—”

“I know that. I want you up there leading our warriors. They trust you.”

She nodded. “Very well.”

Kittle's gaze lifted to the sky where Cloud People gathered over the northern hills. The trees visible through the gates had already taken on the curious sheen of stormlight. “We'll have snow by nightfall.”

The refugee lean-tos propped against the innermost palisade were falling down. Currently empty, they resembled little more than piles of sticks and bark. Yesterday's miraculous storm had ripped apart every lean-to, and shredded the longhouse roofs, before rolling out into the forest where it tore whole trees from the earth and cast them about like kindling.

Kittle said, “We'll have to find a way to roof those lean-tos before snowfall. What of your villagers? We have no more room in any of our longhouses. Where will your people sleep? Do you plan to have them stay one more night in Yellowtail Village, tending the wounded, until we can—”

“I don't think that's wise. If we're attacked, it will split our meager forces in two. No, we will move the wounded here, as well as the rest of my villagers.”

“Where will you move them to?”

“I've ordered the children of the Turtle Clan to collect every sleeping hide in Yellowtail Village. After that, they will gather the branches torn from the trees by yesterday's storm, and bring them here. We'll throw up branch frames and cover them with hides. It will do.”

Memories of the black whirling winds yesterday made her think of Sky Messenger. If he'd been running at a good steady trot, by now he should be close to the territorial boundary of the Standing Stone nation. She prayed he was still safe.

“Worried about Sky Messenger?” Kittle said.

“How did you know?”

“Because I'm worried about Taya. After they said good-bye, Taya spent a good two hands of time lying in her hides weeping.”

Jigonsaseh frowned. “They barely know each other, Kittle. I hardly think she is pining away—”

“I suspect her emotional mood may mean she carries your son's child.”

Jigonsaseh straightened. Sky Messenger and Taya could not marry until she had proven her worthiness by conceiving. If it were true, they could wed as soon as he returned. Jigonsaseh did not know if that fact would please her son or not. Sky Messenger wanted Baji. Clan politics precluded any such marriage. Perhaps, if Taya was with child, he would finally accept his fate, marry her, and fulfill his duty to his clan.

She said, “At most, your granddaughter is one moon pregnant. Her emotional mood could be nothing more than the aftermath of the battle. Let us wait before we rejoice.”

“Agreed.”

The wind shifted and the odors of sweating bodies and wood smoke wafted over them. Jigonsaseh evaluated the holes in the inner palisades. At least five or six gaping charred ovals remained. If they didn't replace that burned wood before the next attack came, the enemy would only have to breach the exterior palisade in one place, and they could flood through the entire village.

“Let's talk about the inner palisades. I think we need to reorganize the work so that—”

“That's because you think like a war chief. If you'd been a village matron for summers, you'd realize that food and water will be just as essential when we are attacked. I can't afford to shift anyone now.”

Three boys, five or six summers old, dashed by with dogs loping at their heels, laughing as they weaved through the lines of workers. Their faces were sheathed in afternoon gleam. One of the dogs, overeager to play, took a flying leap and knocked the lead boy down. The other two boys saw their chance and piled on top of him, squealing as they wrestled.

Jigonsaseh said, “If you don't wish to shift workers, perhaps we could organize the youngest children to fill water jars.”

Kittle didn't answer. Her thoughts seemed far away.

“Did you hear me?”

Kittle blinked. “Don't you think it's odd that none of the surrounding villages have sent runners to inquire about our welfare? They must have seen the smoke from our burning villages yesterday morning. At least a few runners should have arrived by dawn today.”

“Perhaps they fear Atotarho's army is still here.”

“Nonsense. Any responsible matron would have sent at least one man to sneak in, take a look, and hightail it home with the news. Don't they care if we're alive or dead?”

“Perhaps they are more afraid of being attacked themselves, and are keeping every warrior inside their palisade walls.”

Kittle fumbled with her shell bracelets, rearranging them. They clicked. “But we also haven't seen that odious little Trader, Tagosah. He's always here showing off his latest trinkets around the first day of the moon. He's never late.”

“Rarely late. Not never. Don't exaggerate.”

Jigonsaseh studied the warriors on the catwalk. Their gazes were fixed on the scouts who stood in the tallest trees, searching for threats. No alarm had been given. They hadn't even signaled that a lone passerby approached.

“There's another thing I wish for you to consider, Kittle. Once everyone has cleared out of Yellowtail Village, we should dismantle it. We need stronger logs for the interior palisades, and we must build more housing in Bur Oak Village. More important, we don't want our enemies to capture it.”

Kittle heaved a breath. “You're right. The last thing we need is to have Hills warriors lining the palisade of Yellowtail Village and shooting into Bur Oak Village. Very well, I will leave it to you to tear down your own village.”