The Broken Land(86)
Cord guided her across the plaza, where children stood staring at her with frightened eyes, but the women calmly continued pounding corn in hollow logs. A few old men reclined against the longhouse walls, enjoying the last warmth of the day, smiling as they talked. Jigonsaseh studied the four longhouses. They were around three hundred hands long, arranged in a square around the plaza. Covered with white birch bark, the longhouses had a pearlescent sheen in the evening glow. Several smaller houses dotted the edges of the plaza. Cord was leading her toward the circular house that stood straight across from the central fire. Two warriors waited outside, standing guard.
“Warn me,” she said. “Who will I be meeting with?”
“Myself, Village Matron Buckshen, who is also the matron of the Turtle Clan, Wolf Clan matron Gahela, and Bear Clan matron Kiska. Others may be called in as necessary.”
“Has Matron Buckshen given you any indication of whether she views my mission favorably or unfavorably?”
“I think our entire village council wishes to hear Sky Messenger’s vision.”
Jigonsaseh breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Often such councils turned into shouting matches where both sides hurled accusations. She prayed that would not be so tonight.
Cord halted. “Before we enter the council, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you choose Wild River Village? You could have gone to more prestigious and powerful Flint villages. Why here?”
“I didn’t make the choice, Cord. Sky Messenger asked me to come here. But I believe he selected your village because of you. Despite the horrors between our peoples, he has trusted you since he was a child. He respects you a great deal.”
“And I him.” He drew back the leather door curtain and gestured for her to enter.
She ducked inside. For a time, all she could see was the shaft of light pouring through the smoke hole over the fire pit; then, as her eyes adjusted, she saw the three women sitting on benches around the fire. They all wore red capes, but each was uniquely painted with the clan images of turtles, wolves, and bears.
“Let me introduce you,” Cord said.
As she followed him across the hard-packed floor, she looked at the sacred False Face masks on the walls. Their crooked noses and misshapen mouths were expertly carved and painted. She could sense their Spirits watching her, judging her. When she gazed into their empty eye sockets, she wondered what conclusions they’d come to.
Cord walked sunwise around the fire and halted between Matron Buckshen and Matron Kiska. “Allow me to present Matron Jigonsaseh of the Bear Clan in Yellowtail Village, and member of the Ruling Council of the Standing Stone nation.”
She bowed deeply to the matrons. They dipped their heads in return. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
Matron Buckshen stared at her. White turtles painted her red cape. Perhaps sixty summers old, a white haze covered her eyes. She must be half-blind, but she had a kind face, round and deeply wrinkled, framed by thin gray hair. Buckshen extended a hand to the empty bench to her right. “Please sit down, Matron Jigonsaseh. You have been on the water many days and must be very tired.”
“Thank you. I am.” She seated herself, and her white cape fell into soft folds around her feet. She took a few moments to study Gahela and Kiska. Around forty summers, both had black hair, but silver threads shone in Gahela’s. The matron of the Wolf clan, Gahela, had slitted brown eyes and a hard mouth. She looked at Koracoo with her jaw set. Kiska of the Bear clan, however, appeared relaxed, even happy to see Koracoo—which she doubted. It was probably just that Kiska’s thin childlike face and soft brown eyes gave her a friendly appearance.
Cord seated himself across the fire from her, on the bench beside Kiska, and said, “Please tell us why you’ve come, Matron Jigonsaseh.”
She took a deep breath, preparing herself. The fragrance of burning hickory encircled her. “My son, Sky Messenger, asked that I come to you. He—”
“You are his mother,” Matron Buckshen softly said, “but we are his People.”
Jigonsaseh’s eyes narrowed, confused. “Forgive me. I assumed that after he returned to Yellowtail Village and became a deputy war chief for our nation that you would have considered him to be a traitor and unadopted him.”
“No,” Kiska said. “In fact, many of our people consider him to be a hero.”
Jigonsaseh sat back on the bench and looked to Cord for some sort of explanation.
He turned to Matron Buckshen. “If you will allow me, Matron?” When she nodded, he continued, “After the Flatwoods Village battle, your son shoved a log into the river, told our women and children to grab hold, and then he led the enemy warriors away. He risked his own life to save them. Many of the survivors came here, to Wild River Village. Those women and children speak his name with great reverence.”