The Broken Land(76)
“Koracoo, Speaker for the Women of Yellowtail Village, proceed,” Matron Kittle said.
Koracoo folded her arms, and firelight played through the reddish fur of her woven foxhide cape. “In recent days, we have all heard similar stories from the survivors of Sedge Marsh Village. It must be obvious to this council now that someone is poisoning the baskets of corn that we send to needy villages.”
“High Matron?” War Chief Deru said from the northern benches. His massive bearlike body rose and loomed in the murky shadows. Oddly, firelight pooled in his caved-in cheek, turning it amber while the rest of his features remained dim.
“Proceed, War Chief,” Kittle acknowledged him.
“If Speaker Koracoo is right, someone is trying to make it look as though we are poisoning these villages. Which of our enemies is clever enough to accomplish this?”
“It must be a man or woman who can freely walk through both Hills and Standing Stone villages,” Koracoo said. “A Trader? Or a messenger traveling under the white arrow?”
Kittle lifted her pointed chin and surveyed the council. “Since both Sedge Marsh Village and White Dog Village were attacked by Atotarho’s warriors, the man behind it seems clear. The question is, who is Atotarho’s poisoner?”
Daga, Matron of the Turtle Clan in White Dog Village, braced a hand on the bench and grunted as she rose to her feet on spindly legs. Her fifty-six summers showed in her snowy hair and the deep wrinkles around her toothless mouth. “As you all know, I was here attending the betrothal feast of the high matron’s granddaughter when the attack came on my home. Because of that, there are many things I do not know about what went on in White Dog Village. Speaker Gonda, what is your opinion about the poisoner?”
He ran a hand through his black hair. “I cannot even offer a guess, Matron Daga. The day the corn arrived was a day of joy for us. Every longhouse feasted. Many people honored the gift by wearing their best clothing, jewelry, and painting their faces. Identifying a stranger would have been difficult.”
Chief Yellowtail lifted a hand. He stood right behind Kittle. As he rose, his shoulder-length dark gray hair swayed around his wrinkled face. “If the Ruling Council of the People of the Hills is to blame, is it trying to provoke us into attacking Atotarho Village?”
“Blessed gods, I pray not,” Gonda said. “They have four times as many warriors as we do. Such an assault would be doomed to failure and a foolish waste of our young warriors’ lives.”
Murmuring filled the council house. Gonda spread his feet and waited. He needed to get back to his sick wife, Pawen, who lay in the Bear Clan longhouse being tended by his daughter, Tutelo. Pawen had been very ill before the attack, but after the poisoned corn and the long journey here …
“High Matron, how can we be sure it was the corn, and not some other evil? Perhaps a spell was cast upon White Dog Village by Atotarho’s army of witches?” War Chief Skenandoah asked. He had seen around thirty-four summers, and had a square chin and thin lips. He was of medium height, and his short black hair had started to gray at the temples.
Gonda replied, “We aren’t sure, War Chief. I apologize if I gave that impression. We suspect the corn was poisoned, but the illness may have been witchery. Who can say?”
The phrase “army of witches” was whispered throughout the council as nods went round. Gonda stumbled and righted himself.
High Matron Kittle noticed. “If there are no objections, perhaps we should dismiss this council and reconvene tomorrow. Speaker Gonda needs to rest, and it will give us all time to consider his words. Do I hear any objections?”
There were none.
Kittle called, “We will reconvene this council tomorrow morning just after dawn. Go in peace.”
People began to file out of the council house. Gonda didn’t wish to be jostled by the crowd, so he continued standing by the fire, biding his time. When most of the councilors had gone, he saw Koracoo looking at him. She excused herself from the group of Yellowtail matrons that had her surrounded and made her way through the benches to get to him.
He gave her a tired smile. “You look well.”
“And you look like you can barely stay on your feet. How is Pawen?”
He shook his head and looked away. “Tutelo is with her. I—I don’t know.”
Koracoo put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s young and strong. She’ll get well.”
He jerked a nod and changed the subject. “You must tell me about Sky Messenger’s Dream. I’ve already heard five different versions.”
She looked around at the few people still standing nearby, then slipped her arm through his. “Let us speak in private. I have much to tell you.”