Salamander thought of the influx of people who came to solstice like a wave that washed into Sun Town, swirled around in the ceremonies, then washed back out again, renewed and revitalized. It not only reminded the People who they were, but invigorated them with the knowledge that Sun Town was indeed the center of their world. So long as Sun Town remained, the People could return to their roots.
The crowd closed in, blocking his view of the players. The last glimpse had been of Yellow Spider sprinting up to battle with a young woman from Alligator Clan for possession of the ball. Across the distance Salamander thought he heard the clacking of their sticks as they struck and parried.
“Pay attention!” Water Petal hissed.
Salamander blinked, shook himself, and looked back to the open center of the Council House. There, under the brutal sun, Mud Stalker had his good hand raised. He was turning slowly, meeting the gaze of the Council members one by one as he looked at them.
Salamander followed his gaze around the circle, past Frog Clan, Alligator Clan, into his own eyes, and then beyond the entrance to Snapping Turtle Clan, where Pine Drop and Night Rain sat behind old Back Scratch, looking both hot and embarrassed. Then Thunder Tail from Eagle Clan and Clay Fat from Rattlesnake Clan rounded out the circle.
“We face an unusual circumstance,” Mud Stalker stated matter-of-factly. “Young Salamander has my confidence. He is, after all, brother to the dead Speaker, White Bird. Nephew to Cloud Heron. He is the son of Clan Elder Wing Heart.”
Salamander glanced up, but his mother, standing a step to his left, was staring off into the high distance. The slight frown on her forehead made Salamander follow her gaze up past the open roof and into the white sky. The only thing he could see were two far-off vultures wheeling around in circles in the hot air.
“I am happy to cast my vote to acknowledge Speaker Salamander to this Council.” Mud Stalker balled his upraised hand into a fist. To Salamander it looked more like the expression of victory than anything else.
As if in a blur, he heard the voices of the Clan Elders and Speakers calling out in favor.
“Nay!” came the strident cry.
Salamander started, following all eyes as they turned to Deep Hunter. The Alligator Clan Speaker stepped out with his sister, Colored Paint.
It was Colored Paint who said, “Alligator Clan believes that the Council would be better served by more mature leadership. We want it stated on this occasion, that although we are outvoted, we believe the acceptance of a mere boy does not serve the Council well.”
Mud Stalker glanced at Wing Heart, clearly expecting some answer from the Council’s leader. She might have been sculpted of mud, as aware as a cooking clay as she gazed vacant-eyed at the sky.
“Cousin?” Water Petal called from behind. “Clan Elder, do you have a response?”
Wing Heart might have been deaf, lost in her thoughts.
With a slightly perplexed look, Mud Stalker turned, glaring at Deep Hunter. “Well, it is obvious that Clan Elder Wing Heart considers your objection so ludicrous that she needn’t even acknowledge it.”
Chuckles broke out. Salamander felt his ears redden with embarrassment. Deep Hunter was right. He shouldn’t even be here. Why was this happening? What was Mud Stalker’s purpose in insisting on his following in White Bird’s footsteps when Alligator Clan’s objections seemed eminently logical?
With renewed interest, Salamander studied the people in the circle. They are laughing! The notion came to him as he studied the smug faces of Mud Stalker and Back Scratch. Clay Fat and Graywood Snake looked uncomfortable, as if caught doing something embarrassing. Thunder Tail’s expression was wooden, while Cane Frog’s blind face exhibited a grin, as if she, too, sensed some sort of victory.
“The objection of Alligator Clan is noted,” Mud Stalker replied with satisfaction. “The vote, however, is clear.” His voice rang in the hot air. “Speaker Salamander, of the Owl Clan! Step forward and meet your Council!”
Water Petal’s sharp jab sent him unsteadily forward, halftottering on his feet. Mortification seared his souls as he forced his feet to carry him into the open. His tongue knotted at the back of this throat; he tried to keep his knees from trembling. As he looked up into Mud Stalker’s gloating eyes, he couldn’t find a single word to say.
“Speaker Salamander,” Mud Stalker cried. “With your acceptance, this Council has finished its business. In honor of the occasion, will you do us the favor of dismissing the Council?”
Salamander froze for a moment, the only sensation that of his heart battering against his ribs. “Dismissed,” he croaked.