“How can the Healers know you are dying?” Yi asked.
“After the going-to-water ritual, Towana saw Sodowego pull the hides from my sleeping body to peer at my face.”
Someone sobbed. No one could mistake the message. Sodowego—the great faceless harbinger of death—had seen her. She could not escape now. Soon, he would come for her.
Inawa wrung her hands and cast an unpleasant glance at Zateri. “Who will succeed you as matron? I notice your granddaughter sitting there, but surely you don’t expect the other ohwachiras to approve of her? She is a divider by nature. How will she ever be able to unify the nation? Don’t you recall when High Matron Dyo of the Snipe Clan nominated her silly daughter to take her place? The girl ruined the entire clan! She couldn’t keep her hands off Traders. That’s why the Snipe Clan lost power and the Wolf Clan took over the nation. We can’t allow—”
Yi said, “Matron Tila is not Dyo. She would not so embarrass the Wolf Clan.”
For a long time, only the crackling of the flames filled the council house. Zateri sat with her chin up, her eyes on Tila, looking totally unaffected by the criticism.
Tila extended a hand to her. “I would have my granddaughter come before the great-grandmothers.”
Zateri’s white cape swayed around her slender body as she slowly walked across the house to stand between Yi and Inawa. They both swiveled on their benches to look up at her.
“I present to the council, my granddaughter, Zateri, matron of Coldspring Village, and the next in line after me to lead the Wolf Clan. I would hear discussion on this matter. Yes, Matron Ganon of Turtleback Village.”
The stocky old woman had stood up instantly, as though she couldn’t bear to hold her tongue another moment. “Your wisdom has been the light of this clan for thirty-three summers, Tila. Not once in all that time have I cast my voice against you in council.” Her arm lifted and swung dramatically to point at Zateri. “But if you select this—this person, Turtleback Village will refuse to hear her! Please, I beg you to choose another.”
Inawa quipped, “Ganon’s right. No one will support her. It will be like that time—”
“I will,” a soft voice said from the far corner of the house, followed by another, “I will.” Each woman who’d answered stood up.
Eyes strained to make out faces across the firelit distance. Tila said, “I ask that both of you come forward.”
The matrons walked to stand shoulder to shoulder with Zateri. Only Kwahseti, from Riverbank Village, had moved beyond the level of a little clan matron to serve as the village matron, the leader of all the clans in the village. Though, if rumor was right, old Yana, the current village matron in Canassatego Village, was on her death bed, and Gwinodje was next in line to ascend to that position. Tila recognized Kwahseti first. “Matron Kwahseti of Riverbank Village, please state your reasons.”
Kwahseti smoothed the folds from her buckskin cape and squared her shoulders. She had seen thirty-five summers pass, but looked far older. Her hair had gone almost completely gray. “I know arguments may be made against Matron Zateri. In her youth, she was brash. Since then, I believe she has led her village well. The other clans in Coldspring Village respect her and say she is thoughtful and wise. They follow her without question. Which of us would not love to have that sort of relationship with the other clans in our own villages? And, well, the truth is, the final decision is yours, Tila. We all know that. Your granddaughter has the right to rule, if you so decide. I just wish you to know that I believe, if given a chance, Matron Zateri will lead us with strength and honor.”
Zateri bowed her head and blinked at the fire, as was appropriate.
Tila said, “I recognize Little Matron Gwinodje of Canassatego Village.”
Gwinodje was short and so thin she appeared girlish. From behind, she was often mistaken for a child, as was Zateri. She had her black hair twisted into a tight bun on top of her head. A rabbit-bone skewer secured it. Nervous, she licked her lips. “I have heard Matron Zateri’s warriors tell tales of her courage when dealing with enemy chiefs, and her generosity with captives. Perhaps more importantly, her villagers speak of her with deep respect, and that is the true measure of any matron. I think Matron Zateri would be firm but fair, as you are, Tila. I would embrace her as matron of the Wolf Clan.”
Dissenting voices rose and seemed to boom from the walls. Tila stamped her walking stick on the ground to get their attention. “Would anyone else speak, or do you just wish to argue among yourselves?” No one stepped forward. Tila waited for a time longer before saying, “Then I would call for the casting of voices. Who would support Matron Zateri?”