"So?" Tickseed snorted disdainfully as she lifted her flabby chin. Her gray hair had grown so sparse that it looked as wispy as a spiderweb spun about her round skull. The firelight reflected with snowy radiance in her blind eyes. "What good are such things when the trade routes are cut off? Eh? You heard what the traders said today—that Petaga has cut off our trade routes!" Over the murmurs of outrage, Tickseed shouted, "There will be no more hickory oil from the east. No more sacred red cedar will be rafted down the river from the north. Where will we get maple sap? Not to mention all the baubles like pink stone for our pipes, or seashell for our bead workers!" She rocked forward, pinioning Redhaw with her white-filmed eyes. ''You won't be able to trade at all, unless we take some action here!"
A hollow pit of cold grew in Green Ash's belly. She shuddered. Nettle hugged her more tightly, whispering, "Wait. She may not mean what it sounds like."
Green Ash nodded, but she knew Tickseed better than he did. Green Ash had served as Checkerberry's messenger to the other clans for five cycles. Tickseed rarely attempted misdirection. It might take her a little time to lead up to what she wanted to say, but her words were always straight.
Sandbar's eyes narrowed over the broad lump of her nose. "What are you suggesting, Tickseed?"
"All of us know what the Sun Chief did to our sister villages this winter. We—"
"He retrieved the tribute that was owed Cahokia!" Redhaw shrilled in a voice like sand against stone. "That com was ours!"
The dog that had been sleeping at the edge of the circle yipped and sprang to its feet in alarm. Primrose waved a hand to it, calling it over. The dog sniffed the air with a dusty nose, checking for danger, before wagging its tail and trotting over to flop down on the spreading hem of Primrose's tan skirt.
Sandbar shook her head. On the eastern horizon. Moon Maiden timidly peeked over the bluffs. A milky flood tarnished the land, shadowing every house and mound in the village. "It doesn't matter whose com it was. Our sister villages needed it to survive. We took it from the mouths of their children to feed ours. We—"
"Mother Earth is dying," Checkerberry muttered. She fumbled with a stick, trying to draw spirals around her extended foot. In the warm, amber glow, her unblinking eyes shone with madness.
Gazes darted around the gathering before falling to stare at nothing. The words echoed everyone's darkest fears. What had happened to the priests and priestesses who rode the waves of the Underworld? Rumors had rushed like wildfire through the village that none of the Starbom could get into the Underworld now—that First Woman had closed the Gate to the Well of the Ancestors.
Blessed Star Ogres, what will we do if it's true? If the gods have abandoned us, how can we possibly survive?
Redhaw wet her withered lips nervously. "I don't think Petaga can keep the trade routes closed," she began, trying to change the subject. "Badgertail will slice his army—"
Checkerberry cut her short. "It's Nightshade! She's a witch. She's cursed us! She's always hated us—ever since Badgertail stole her from her home when she was a child. She's killing us!"
Frightened cries and shouts broke out. People wanted someone to blame for their misfortune, and Nightshade's reputation blew like a black wind through their souls.
Redhaw thrust up her hands. "Stop. Stop it! We don't know this. If it were true, why has the Sun Chief not already killed her? It makes no sense!"
Checkerberry hunched forward. The fire that had briefly lit her eyes dwindled to nothingness. "Still," she whispered, "it's Nightshade. She's killing us. Wait. You'll see."
A difficult swallow slid down Sandbar's throat. Fumbling with the hem of her green dress, she said quietly, "Tickseed, earlier you sounded as though you wanted us to choose sides in the upcoming battle. Do you?"
Tickseed lifted a narrow shoulder. "Want has nothing to do with it. Sooner or later, weTl be forced to. You've seen how the com grows. Everyone knows it will be stunted again this cycle."
Redhaw said, "Maybe, yes, but what—"
"Just this! If Badgertail wins, next season will be worse than last. No one will want to give tribute. We'll have to kill to the last child to take the stockpiles we need to survive." Tickseed pointed a crooked fmger at Redhaw's heart. "If Petaga wins, the system will be changed. You heard the traders talk! Petaga is saying that each village should handle its own affairs, that we should reorganize so that every village looks after itself. If we don't want to trade south, we can save our goods and use them for other things—things we want—not things the Sun Chief thinks are good for the chiefdom!"