“But, Mother, Great Grandmother wanted you to be High Matron.” Kahn-Tineta sat up, rubbed her eyes. “She told me.”
Zateri started to dismiss the suggestion, but Kwahseti held up a hand. “Wait. I wish to hear this story. When did your great grandmother tell you this?”
Zateri sighed, and turned around to face her daughter. Hiyawento’s gaze focused on Kahn-Tineta with eagle-sharpness.
Kahn-Tineta must have felt the weight of the council’s attention. She tucked a finger into the corner of her mouth, and slurred, “The day she died. I was lying beside her on her shleeping bench while she shtroked my hair, and said she was going to tell me a secret that I couldn’t tell anyone.”
Gwinodje and Kwahseti glanced at each other.
Gwinodje calmly asked, “We need to know her exact words, Kahn-Tineta. Do you understand what that means? Her exact words.”
Kahn-Tineta nodded. She removed her finger from her mouth to say, “Grandmother hugged me very tightly, and said, ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ I said, ‘What is it?’ and she said, ‘I’m going to name your mother as Matron of the Wolf Clan when she returns, but you mustn’t tell anyone.”
Kwahseti said, “And you’ve been a very good girl, because you haven’t, have you?”
Zateri understood Kwahseti’s meaning. If the event truly had occurred, why hadn’t Kahn-Tineta told them such important news?
“No, Matron Kwahseti,” Kahn-Tineta answered. “Great Grandmother asked me if I could keep her words locked in my heart until it was announced.” Kahn-Tineta looked around, meeting each person’s eyes. “That’s why I haven’t said anything. I’m good at keeping secrets … and it hasn’t been announced … has it?”
Kwahseti replied, “No, dear girl, because your great grandmother left for the Land of the Dead before she could tell anyone. What else did she say?”
Kahn-Tineta’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though something had occurred to her but she wasn’t certain she should say it. She glanced up hesitantly at Hiyawento.
He gently said, “It’s all right, Kahn-Tineta. You can tell us.”
Kahn-Tineta licked her lips and swallowed. “I told great grandmother that I wasn’t sure Mother wished to be High Matron.”
Zateri bowed her head. “What did she say to that?”
“Oh, she said, ‘That’s not a surprise. No one does.’ Then she poked me in the chest with her finger”—Kahn Tineta rubbed the spot—“and said, ‘You remember I said that. Someday you will have to make the choice of whether or not to lead your people. It is an overwhelming responsibility. But I suspect in the end you will choose to place the welfare of the Hills nation above your own. You will shoulder the burden for the nation’s sake. Just as your mother will.’”
Zateri’s throat suddenly ached with emotion. “Was that all she said?”
Kahn-Tineta crossed her legs in Hiyawento’s lap and shook one moccasin while she frowned at the swirls of blue smoke gliding above her. “No. I told her I wasn’t so sure you would because Father didn’t wish to move to Atotarho Village, because he hated Grandfather Atotarho.”
At the mention of Atotarho’s name, Hiyawento’s arm muscles tightened as though fit to burst through his shirt. He frowned down at his daughter. “Kahn-Tineta, look at me.”
The girl looked up but cringed at his stern expression.
“Are you telling the truth?”
“Yes, Father!” she cried indignantly. “I wouldn’t lie about this!”
He glared at her for a few moments, until he’d satisfied himself. “All right. Go on. What else did your great grandmother say?”
“She told me a story,” Kahn-Tineta replied weakly, as though her father’s expression made her wish she hadn’t said anything at all.
“What story?”
Kahn-Tineta tucked her finger in her mouth again, sucking it for a time to soothe her fears, before saying, “She told me that my great-great-great grandmother used to have a saying. She said that for every one person hacking at the roots of hatred, there were thousands swinging in its branches, and I’d better not do that or I’d fall and break my neck. Great Grandmother told me the only way to survive in this world was to make sure I was the one with the hatchet.” Around her finger, Kahn-Tineta slurred, “I liked that shtory.”
Gwinodje blinked thoughtfully and turned to Zateri. “That sounds very much like something your grandmother would have said, Zateri.”
“Yes,” she smiled sadly. “Grandmother told me that same story when I was a child. I loved it, too.”