People of the Black Sun(4)
Very softly, he asked, “Are you well? I know this was a terrible day for the Standing Stone nation. You lost so many.”
She jerked a nod. “Ninety percent of our army.”
“How many trained warriors do you have left?”
“We will count tomorrow, but my guess is around three hundred. Plus another forty-one warriors from Atotarho’s army that joined our side this afternoon, including War Chief Sindak.”
His face slackened. “Three hundred out of how many?”
“When the morning began, we had over three thousand.”
He seemed to be holding his breath, then he slowly exhaled the words: “What will you do?”
“One thing is certain: Atotarho will be back. High Matron Kittle is still in council with the other elders. It’s an informal meeting. Tomorrow, the Ruling Council will officially meet to decide our course of action.”
He hesitated, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it for several moments, before he finally said, “May I be so bold as to offer you advice?”
“I have always greatly valued your advice.”
He dipped his head respectfully and shifted to stare at the flames dancing around the logs in the fire. As always, the attraction between them was like lightning about to strike, almost unbearable.
“I would like to suggest that the Standing Stone nation abandon these last two villages and come with us to the Flint nation. We will adopt every member of your clans. We are stronger as one nation, than as two.”
Stunned, she didn’t respond.
More softly, he added, “Last summer, when your son thought he would wed Baji, he allowed himself to be adopted into the Flint People. We Requickened in him the soul of one of our greatest ancestors, Dekanawida. Is it so hard to imagine being adopted by us?”
She gave him a faint smile. “Well, Cord, I think maybe my son, whom we still call Sky Messenger, belongs to all clans and all peoples. My nation, however, that is something else.”
“Believe me, I know the import of my suggestion, but if you do not accept, I greatly fear—”
“Cord…” She gripped his hand where it rested on the log between them. “You are very generous to offer, but I can’t recommend that to the Ruling Council. You’re talking about the death of the Standing Stone nation.”
He flipped his hand over, twined his fingers with hers, and matched her grip. “Listen to me. You have three hundred trained warriors left, plus another forty-one that you don’t know if you can trust, and you do not know that Chief Atotarho is gone.”
“No, but it seems—”
“Yes, he and his faction of the Hills People fled the battlefield in the monster storm today, but by now they are regrouping, assessing damage, and making decisions that may wipe the Standing Stone nation from the earth anyway. Please”—he lowered his voice—“consider fleeing to join another nation. It doesn’t have to be the Flint People. If you’d prefer, I suspect the People of the Landing would take you. They’ve been hit hard by the Mountain People in recent moons. They would probably be glad to renew the spiritual strength of the clans by adopting—”
“I can’t,” she repeated, and the lines at the corners of his brown eyes deepened. “We’re desperate, old friend, but not that desperate. Not yet.”
With trepidation, he disentangled his hand from hers before gently stroking her hair and anxiously studying her face. “When the time comes … if the time comes … remember my offer.”
She had the overwhelming urge to hold him. But that would complicate both of their lives. “Thank you. I…” Her voice dwindled when she noted how attentively his warriors were watching them. She scanned the closest fires. Warriors either stared blatantly, or pretended to be looking into their supper bowls and water cups, while casting furtive glances their way. An awkward silence had descended. “My visit seems to have caused a disruption.”
“Well, frankly, it isn’t every day that a member of the Ruling Council of the Standing Stone nation appears, walking alone, in the middle of a Flint war camp. You startled them.”
“If so, they are exceptionally well trained. Not a single one attempted to bash my brains out before he checked with you.”
“Fortunately for him.” Cord smiled and removed his hand from her hair.
Conversations instantly began to return to normal, and were eventually replaced by laughter and war songs.
Jigonsaseh said, “Cord, as you well know, I’m not given to small talk. I must thank you for what you did today. I don’t know how, but—”
“It’s not necessary. Truly.”