The Broken Land(40)

“That’s ridiculous, Kittle. After your seven daughters, and her four older sisters, Taya is twelfth in line for the matronship. It is unlikely—”

“Eleventh,” Kittle said. “My daughter Yosha is unsuitable.”

“Nonetheless, it is unlikely Taya will ever have a chance to rule, and you know it. Taya is a pampered and protected child with almost no useful skills, while Sky Messenger may well be the greatest Dreamer our people have ever known.”

Kittle’s low laugh chills my blood. “You have fanciful notions of your son’s worth, Koracoo. He’s always been curious. From the day he returned after being captured during the destruction of Yellowtail Village, he’s been a loner. He’s like a turtle with its head pulled into its shell. I don’t know how he managed to rise to the position of deputy war chief. He must have—”

“Valor.” Mother’s voice cuts to the bone. “He distinguished himself in battle over and over. If you need proof, perhaps you should consult with your own war chief. Skenandoah gave Sky Messenger his name because of his ability to call sunlight from cloudy skies on the war trail. Skenandoah believed that Elder Brother Sun spoke directly to Sky Messenger.”

There is silence for a long time. Kittle, of course, knows this.

Twenty heartbeats later, Taya pulls the door curtain aside and steps out carrying a steaming bowl of cornmeal mush with a wooden spoon stuck in it. She is a newly made woman with large brown eyes, and waist-length black hair that sways across the front of her cape as she walks. Her expression is stony.

She lifts the bowl to me. “It’s cold today. Grandmother says you should eat.”

For many summers, whenever I returned from a war walk and came to report to Matron Kittle, I brought Taya and her four sisters presents. Every warrior in the nation brought them gifts. It is part of our tradition, a way of honoring the high matron’s lineage. Taya’s needs have always been met. Slaves cook her meals, wash her clothing, run her errands. She has never known pain or real hunger. Because her lineage is so precious, she’s rarely allowed to travel. She’s never been more than a few days’ walk from Bur Oak Village. Even if I tried to explain to her what I see coming, she has no framework for understanding such horror and loneliness.

I take the bowl. “Thank you for your kindness.”

She tucks her hands beneath her cape and nervously wets her lips. She seems to be mustering her courage to speak to me.

“It’s all right, Taya. You can ask me anything.”

After swallowing hard, she says, “I’ve been thinking about this. I’m worried about our children. What your dishonor will do to them.” She cautiously looks up at me from beneath long eyelashes. “It may stain them forever.”

“In a few summers, our people will realize that what I did was for the good of all.”

She tilts her head, not certain she believes this. Then she says, “I don’t wish to marry you, do you know that? Did your clan tell you that I objected?”

I stop eating. “Yes. This is just a political alliance, Taya. Nothing more.”

She flaps her arms at her sides, very much like a frustrated child. “I can see how being married to me will strengthen your clan, but how does such an arrangement benefit mine? You may or may not be a Dreamer. What if it turns out your Dream is all fantasy? Where will that leave me and our children?”

I take another bite and chew. Finally, I answer, “If it turns out that my Dream is false, and I disgrace you, then you may set my belongings outside the Deer Clan longhouse, and I will return to my own clan. Divorce is a simple matter.”

“Yes, divorce may be, but the shame I will bear from your grandiose lies—”

“They are not lies,” I reply sternly.

As though to cast the final insult, she tosses her head and adds, “Well, I don’t love you.”

I don’t know what to make of this. Of course she doesn’t. Why does she think she must tell me this? I try to think back to what I felt when I’d seen fourteen summers, but the analogy doesn’t work. My childhood was rudely stripped from me when I’d seen eleven summers. I never had the chance to go through this awkward half-child and half-adult stage.

I force my thoughts back. “Taya, this has nothing to do with love. It’s a political arrangement. That’s all.”

She wets her lips again. “Grandmother says you are a coward. A traitor. Are you?”

“If I were a coward, I would not be here. I would have lived out my life as an Outcast in the forest.”

“Some people—mostly ignorant outsiders—are saying that you are the prophesied human False Face.”