Sky Messenger reached over to clasp her hand hard. “Stop thinking about it.” A savage glitter lit his eyes. “She doesn’t deserve your attention.”
“No. She doesn’t.” But her veins felt as if glassy flakes of obsidian rushed through them. She couldn’t move or breathe without pain.
His grip tightened, crushing her hand. “You’re here with me. You’re safe.”
“Not if you break my thumb. How will I draw back my bow?”
The ghost of his smile warmed. He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed warm lips to her thumb. Changing the subject, he said, “Anyway, I need you to help me think about the People of the Landing.”
“You mean how to approach them about peace?”
“Yes. Tomorrow, if we survive crossing through Hills territory, we should reach the border of the People of the Landing. Soon after, we will reach their villages.”
“Have you determined which village you will visit first?”
He stroked her palm while he contemplated the question. “Shookas Village. High Matron Weyra has a reputation for fairness and intelligence. At least among my People. What do the Flint People say about her?”
Baji shrugged. “Among my People, she’s known as Slow Thinker.”
“That doesn’t sound very flattering.”
“Well, she’s called that because apparently she never makes rash decisions. She ponders matters for a long while, discussing every possible permutation with the clans, before bringing an issue before the Ruling Council. I’ve heard it can take weeks for any major decision to be agreed upon. Keep that in your heart, lest you hope to have a decision the same day you speak with her.”
“I don’t.”
Baji watched him. “And what will you tell High Matron Weyra? You should begin with your Dream.”
“I will. Then I’ll explain that our alliance already includes three nations—”
“Be specific. Say it includes the Standing Stone nation, the Flint People, plus three Hills villages.”
He frowned. “You’re right. Yes. Then I will present the benefits of our alliance—”
“Explain them to me.”
His mouth quirked, and he gave her a crooked smile. “I haven’t really figured them all out yet.”
“Don’t you think you’d better?”
He heaved a breath. Moments later, he said, “Well … mutual defense, for one thing. We will also redistribute food to needy villages … and expand our Trade networks, as we spoke about earlier.”
Baji toyed with his hair. “May I question you as I believe High Matron Weyra will?”
He rolled to his side, braced his elbow, and propped his head on his hand. “I would welcome it.” His breath frosted in the cold air.
As more of the campfires of the dead blazed to life outside, the prismatic reflections through the runoff streaming from the roof strengthened, swathing the rockshelter with what appeared to be a thousand silverfish swimming through a stardust ocean.
“Weyra will first note that you have no food to redistribute, and even after you tell her that the Flint nation will contribute to the cause, she’ll say it won’t be enough. How will you respond?”
He drew her hand to his heart and held it there. “I’ll say she’s right. This winter. However, next autumn the alliance will pool its harvests, so that we all have enough.”
“Providing the crops are good.”
“That is a given.”
“And providing you can talk them into it, which won’t be easy.”
“I still have to promise her that we can.”
“Yes, you do.”
He frowned. “What else will she say?”
“Next, she’ll tell you that the members of your pitiful alliance are too far away to help protect Landing villages from the Mountain People raiders. The Mountain People are their closest and most dangerous enemies.”
His elbow shifted upon the folds of woven fox-hide blankets. “If we create a war party and station it on the border between the Mountain and Landing peoples, they can block raids into Landing country.”
“Who will compose such a war party?”
“Warriors from every nation.”
“That’s idealistic. How will you feed so many warriors?”
He gave Baji a lockjawed glare, as though he wished she hadn’t asked that. After ten heartbeats, he answered, “I suppose every member of the alliance will have to provide for its own warriors.”
“Which means they won’t send warriors to serve in the war party.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. What else?”
“That’s all I can think of for now.”
“Think they’ll kill us on sight?”