“Are the Yellowtail matrons finished with you? They look like they’re still waiting to talk more.”
“They have my answer. They’re just discussing the timing.”
She tightened her hold on his arm. At her touch he realized that, without being conscious of it, he’d needed her closeness. This was the first time they’d seen each other in two summers. Not so long ago, even a glance from her would have fired his veins. Now her touch was as warm and comfortable as a worn pair of moccasins. She looked down at him, for she was taller than he, and smiled in the old way he loved—smiling as though they’d never said hateful things to each other.
“I swear I’m getting old and decrepit,” she said.
“Well, the good thing about being a legendary former war chief is that few men will ever be brave enough to suggest it.”
She smothered a chuckle. “Then I am more fortunate than I deserve.”
He clutched her arm as they made their way out of the council house and across the plaza through the cold sleet. When they stood beneath the porch of the Bear Clan longhouse, Koracoo stopped.
“Let’s speak of the important things out here.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
Her warm smile turned into a bleak tight-lipped expression. “First, I want you to know that I believe battle with Atotarho Village is a certainty.”
“Why?”
“War Chief Hiyawento was just here. He came to deliver a message from the Hills Ruling Council.”
“A threat, no doubt.”
“Yes. They told us not to attempt to make any other alliances with Hills villages or they would destroy us. Many members of our Ruling Council believe that it is foolish to live in fear that they will carry out their threat, and wiser to attack them first.”
Gonda bowed his head. “That would be a grave error. They will cut us up and lay us down like a summer hailstorm does the corn. Are you trying to talk sense into them?”
“Trying without much success.”
“Is this just pride or—?”
“No, it’s Sky Messenger’s Dream.”
For a long quiet moment, they gazed at each other. Between them lay many summers of warring side by side, of mad desperate passion, of two beloved children stolen and rescued and now grown to adulthood … so many intimate moments unthinkingly shared. And he could tell from the way she ground her teeth that she needed someone to talk to, someone she trusted.
Gonda said, “He Dreamed the end of the world, or so I’ve heard.”
“He says that we must end this war, and if we do not, there is a great darkness coming.”
With a touch of irony, he said, “You, naturally, believe that means making peace with our enemies. Matron Kittle, however, thinks it means annihilating them. Is that pretty much it?”
A small hard-edged smile curved her lips. “Pretty much.”
Gonda squinted out across the plaza, watching the sleet fall. It bounced from the frozen ground as though alive. “With your mother gone, you will soon be the Yellowtail Village matron, won’t you?”
“I have agreed to the Requickening Ceremony, yes. That’s what the matrons were discussing in the council house.”
“When will the ritual take place?”
“Tomorrow, midmorning.”
He sighed. “Then this is the last day of our lives when I will be able to call you Koracoo. Tomorrow, you will become Matron Jigonsaseh. The following day you will have considerably more power to direct the future course of the nation.”
Her expression tightened. “Village matrons have power in their own villages. In the Ruling Council, however, each voice is just one of many.”
He remembered all the times he’d called her a “peacemaker” with loathing in his voice. Apparently, so did she. She had a guarded expression on her face, as though preparing to hear the same words she’d always heard from him.
Instead, he said, “Let me speak with what’s left of the White Dog Village council. Perhaps I can convince them to back your peace efforts. The Spirits know we cannot win a war against the Hills People. There simply aren’t enough of us to wage the fight.”
When he looked back at her, he saw an unsettling mixture of relief and old love in her eyes. “I would like to have Bahna present Sky Messenger’s vision to your council, if you think that would be acceptable.”
“I’m sure they’d rather hear it from your lips, but I’ll ask.”
She walked forward and drew aside the entry curtain. Warm air rushed out, and when it struck his face, he shivered.
She said, “Let’s tend to those who need us. Perhaps, if you are not too tired, we can speak more later.”