She asked, “Does Sky Messenger realize that always voting no will make you appear to be a simpering weakling? Not to mention a fool?”
“He’s thought it through, Zateri. He needs a symbol.”
“A symbol?”
“A war chief who preaches peace. He needs me to become a peace chief. He says he will never pick up a weapon again, never raise his hand in violence, not even to save his own life, or the lives of people he loves.”
Zateri frowned at the sooty shadows clinging in the corners. The firelight turned them into spectral dancers, their dark feet pounding out the sacred rhythms that had created the world. A strange, almost bizarre notion was forming in her heart. “He’s trying to launch an unarmed revolt.”
He lifted his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean if village matrons followed his example and simply refused to cooperate—to attend council meetings—the Ruling Council could never vote to dispatch warriors.”
“Any matron who refuses to attend a meeting of the Ruling Council will be labeled a traitor.” As he thought about it, Hiyawento’s brows drew together over his hooked nose. “For the renegade matrons to remain steadfast will require a great deal more bravery than swinging a war club at an enemy warrior.”
Zateri considered the ramifications of refusing to attend the next council. Blunting the arrows of war through noncooperation would be very much like swinging an invisible war club at her own relatives. Could she, with her minimal influence, gather enough matrons together to accomplish anything meaningful? “Do you believe his vision?”
Hiyawento didn’t even hesitate, “You know I do.”
“Then you also believe you will be there when the World Tree shakes and Elder Brother Sun covers his face with the soot of the dying world?”
He answered in a sober voice. “Yes, and he’ll need me more at that moment than at any other time in our lives.”
When he looked up at her, his eyes were like night stars. Too bright. She had to look away. She prayed to all the ancestors who had ever lived to give her, and Hiyawento, the strength for the trials ahead. “When is the next war council?”
“Tomorrow. The war chiefs are afraid that Kittle’s retribution will be swift. Every village is preparing to be attacked.”
“What will you say to them when they suggest striking first?”
Firelight fluttered over his tense features. “I will counsel against war, as I did today.”
“Then you had best take ten warriors with you to guard your back. I don’t want you waylaid on the way home.”
He smiled. “That would make me appear afraid. I can’t afford such—”
Across the fire, a shrill, “You’re ruining it!” erupted, and Zateri looked up in time to see Kahn-Tineta rip the corn-husk doll from her youngest sister’s mouth. As she wiped the drool on her cape, she cried, “Look what you did, Jimer! Now it’s going to fall apart!”
Three-summers-old Jimer let out a yowl and tried to grab it back.
“Here, give it to me.” Zateri held out her hand.
Kahn-Tineta’s lower lip quivered. She clutched the doll to her chest. “Mother, it’s my turn to play with it. Jimer and Catta have been chewing on it for the past hand of time!”
“Give it to me now, Kahn-Tineta,” Zateri ordered, and extended her hand farther.
Kahn-Tineta grudgingly handed it over, and Zateri placed it on the mat beside the hearth ring. When she turned back to Hiyawento, he was struggling to suppress a smile.
“The doll is a pretty thing,” he said. “Where did you get it?”
“Me?” she asked in surprise. “I thought you brought it to them. I’ve never seen it before tonight.”
They both turned to stare at their daughters. Jimer’s gaze was still fixed on the doll, while Kahn-Tineta glared at Zateri, and Catta seemed to have found something fascinating on the bottom of her moccasin.
“Kahn-Tineta,” Zateri asked, “where did you get the doll? You didn’t take it from another child in the longhouse, did you?”
“No, Mother! I wouldn’t take something from one of my relatives. Catta brought the doll to me this afternoon. She said a man gave it to her.”
“A man? Catta, who gave you the doll?”
Catta’s five-summers-old face took on a guilty expression. She licked her lips nervously. “I don’t know his name. He was scary. He said the doll came from Sedge Marsh Village and he wanted me to have it—though he said it was really more of a gift for you, Father, than for me.”
Hiyawento lifted his head slowly, his eyes unblinking. “What did the man look like, Catta?”