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The Broken Land(121)

By:W.Michael Gear


Zateri noticed that his fists were clenched at his sides, and his narrow beaked face had flushed. Sindak’s orders had surprised him, as they had everyone else.

Gwinodje said, “What shall we do about it? Are we going to obey?”

Short and slight of build, she appeared childlike standing between Chief Canassatego and War Chief Waswanosh. In the darkness, one could have mistaken her for a frail girl. But her expression belied any such notions. Indignation actually shook the clamshell comb that held her black hair on top of her head, causing it to shimmer like a prism. Colors flashed.

Zateri said, “Each of our villages joined the Hills alliance. If we disobey, it will be viewed as a withdrawal from the alliance. Do we wish to do that?”

Kwahseti massaged her brow. “No, not yet. Our three villages could not stand alone. We would be vulnerable to anyone who wished to destroy us. Assuming Atotarho didn’t beat them to it, the Mountain People would be the first to take the opportunity.”

“Yes,” Zateri added. “I’ve heard they’re desperate. They’ve been so sick with the fever that they could not even harvest their crops. Their corn is moldering in their fields, and their sunflowers have all been plucked clean by birds. As winter deepens, they’ll have no choice but to take what food they need from other nations. We—”

Hiyawento interrupted, “They shouldn’t have to.”

His deep voice had been so low, the others in the circle unconsciously leaned toward him to hear him better. Chief Canassatego asked, “What did you say?”

Hiyawento lifted his head. A somber emptiness had possessed him. It wrenched Zateri’s souls. The loss of her daughters was like a knife slashing inside her, but duty demanded she set it aside until this was over. Then she would find a quiet place to hurt until she could bear it. The difference between them was that she could set it aside. He could not. All his life, he’d fought to protect his family and friends, offering his own life in their stead many times over, and his courage had always carried everyone around him to safety. Except for his baby daughters. Zateri knew that somewhere deep inside him, he blamed himself for their deaths. He must be saying, “If only I’d been vigilant, I would have known …” or “I should have killed him when I had the chance; then my girls couldn’t have …”

A lump formed in Zateri’s throat, making it hard to breathe. Guilt had eaten a gaping hole inside him, and he was being consumed by the darkness.

For her, the pain provoked another response. She became unnaturally focused and clear-headed—a lesson she’d learned in Gannajero’s camp, where she had endured things that had killed other girls. She would single-mindedly, with the patience of a hungry wolf, hunt her father until she could destroy him, even if she had to turn the world on its head to do it. It was this pursuit that gave her the strength to face anything she had to.

“I said”—Hiyawento inhaled the smoky night air—“they shouldn’t have to. If they attack us, it’s our fault. By our own greed, we’ve forced them into desperate acts to feed their children.”

Thona stiffened as though he’d been struck. “What are you saying? That because we need the food for our own children we are somehow to blame—”

“Yes.” Hiyawento’s red-rimmed eyes rested on Thona without emotion. He might have been gazing far out into the distances instead of at a livid opponent. “Don’t you see? If we helped each other, we would all have enough. We might not have an abundance that we could hoard and smile at in the dead of winter, but we would survive. As it is, I’m not sure any of us will make it through this.”

Thona snorted. “You sound like you’re repeating the words of your demented friend, Sky Messenger.”

War Chief Waswanosh let out a low disgusted laugh. “His vision is nonsense. I heard one of the Traders say he’d seen Elder Brother Sun flee into a black hole in the sky. Ridiculous.”

Hiyawento’s chin lifted. In a deep reverent voice, he replied, “When the Great Face shakes the World Tree, you will believe. There is a terrible storm coming. We will all be swimming in a cloud-sea when the eerie silence descends and Elder Brother Sun blackens his face with the soot of the dying world.”

Zateri glanced around the circle. No one seemed to be breathing. They were hearing Sky Messenger’s vision for the first time, or at least part of it, and none could turn away. Kwahseti’s face had slackened, as though she felt the truth of it rising up from the dark place between her souls. Chief Canassatego was listening with his eyes closed.