PROLOGUE
FEATHER Cloak was fertile, the only pregnant woman left among her people. Indeed, she was the only woman living who had quickened more than once. Therefore, she presided over the council of tribes because she had power the others did not possess, power that had been draining from the land during their exile. No one could explain this slow leaching, but they knew it presaged the death of both land and people. If anyone could save them, it must be the one in whom power still resided long after it had departed from the rest.
The Eagle Seat had yielded to her. In truth, it was now the only place she rested easily. Her older child was almost an adult in aspect and learning, but in the days when he had grown within her, he had not waxed so large. It seemed she would harvest a giant’s spawn, although she happened to know that the sire of her budding child was Rain, who was no smaller or larger than any other man. He was a gentle soul of medium build, good-natured, a hard worker with clever hands, a skill for flint-knapping, and a well-omened name, and for all these reasons a much better choice for a father than arrogant warriors like Cat Mask and Lizard Mask who liked to shake their spears and strut before the women.
As they were doing now.
“We must gather in one place, farther inland where we’ll be protected, and ready ourselves! Then we can act at once, and in numbers. We can strike before our enemy expects us!”
“Better to station ourselves in smaller groups, you fool! Spread out around the countryside. If one group is taken by surprise, the others will be able to harry the enemy and regroup when it is safe.”
“If the enemy strikes first, if the enemy passes the White Road and sets foot in our country, we are lost!” Cat Mask pounded the haft of the speaking staff repeatedly into the dirt to emphasize his point. As if his voice wasn’t loud enough.
Lizard Mask had half a head of height over Cat Mask. He used it now, puffing up his chest and jutting out his chin, as he curled a hand around the haft above Cat Mask’s hand. “If the enemy invades, how can we know where he will cross? If we’re all in one place, we’ll lose mobility. We’ll lumber along as slowly as your mind works!”
“Feh! Your wish to be safe has made you frightened. We must be bold!”
“We must be cautious but clever, the thorn in their side.”
“The arrow in their heart! One blow to cripple them, not a frenzy of meaningless stings that will only anger them but do no lasting damage.”
The councillors were seated around the cavernous chamber, watching the two young warriors stamping and blowing in the center. The older women seemed amused and indulgent, while the younger women had settled into expressions of disgust or intent interest depending on their liking for belligerent male posturing. The older men stood with crossed arms and resigned expressions as they waited for the storm to die down; they had blustered in like manner in their own day and knew better than to intervene.
“A swarm of bees may bring down a wolf who angers them and disturbs their hive.”
“A wolf may outrun them and stalk back at night when they sleep to rip their refuge to shreds for other animals to mangle and devour!”
Because men had the floor, it wasn’t the place of women to speak, but Feather Cloak was not surprised when The Impatient One—Uapeani-kazonkansi-a-lari, daughter of Eldest Uncle—laughed.
“What fine phrases these are!” she cried. “Shall we acclaim the one who pierces us with the finest poetry?”
The two men flushed red. Faced with her mockery, they shifted their stances to join against her. In years past, The Impatient One had slept with both of them, and cast both aside, and whatever jealousy they nurtured each toward the other measured less than their resentment of her indifference.
“You argue over war,” she went on, “but force of arms cannot win this battle.”
“We must fight!” declared Cat Mask.
“Whether we choose to mass our forces or disperse them, we must be ready to fight,” agreed Lizard Mask.
She snorted. “They are many and we are few. Beyond that, humankind are only one of the dangers we face. We may yet suffer grievous harm when the day comes—close now!”
As if to emphasize her point in the same way Cat Mask had rapped his spear against the ground, the land beneath shuddered. The vibration resembled a temblor but was instead the judder of the land as it called out like to like, seeking its home through the waves of aether that surrounded it. It shook right through Feather Cloak’s body. Her womb clenched and relaxed in harmony with that rhythm. She wiped her brow with the back of a hand, knowing her time was close, just as the day they had so long awaited was close. GUE
FEATHER Cloak was fertile, the only pregnant woman left among her people. Indeed, she was the only woman living who had quickened more than once. Therefore, she presided over the council of tribes because she had power the others did not possess, power that had been draining from the land during their exile. No one could explain this slow leaching, but they knew it presaged the death of both land and people. If anyone could save them, it must be the one in whom power still resided long after it had departed from the rest.
The Eagle Seat had yielded to her. In truth, it was now the only place she rested easily. Her older child was almost an adult in aspect and learning, but in the days when he had grown within her, he had not waxed so large. It seemed she would harvest a giant’s spawn, although she happened to know that the sire of her budding child was Rain, who was no smaller or larger than any other man. He was a gentle soul of medium build, good-natured, a hard worker with clever hands, a skill for flint-knapping, and a well-omened name, and for all these reasons a much better choice for a father than arrogant warriors like Cat Mask and Lizard Mask who liked to shake their spears and strut before the women.
As they were doing now.
“We must gather in one place, farther inland where we’ll be protected, and ready ourselves! Then we can act at once, and in numbers. We can strike before our enemy expects us!”
“Better to station ourselves in smaller groups, you fool! Spread out around the countryside. If one group is taken by surprise, the others will be able to harry the enemy and regroup when it is safe.”
“If the enemy strikes first, if the enemy passes the White Road and sets foot in our country, we are lost!” Cat Mask pounded the haft of the speaking staff repeatedly into the dirt to emphasize his point. As if his voice wasn’t loud enough.
Lizard Mask had half a head of height over Cat Mask. He used it now, puffing up his chest and jutting out his chin, as he curled a hand around the haft above Cat Mask’s hand. “If the enemy invades, how can we know where he will cross? If we’re all in one place, we’ll lose mobility. We’ll lumber along as slowly as your mind works!”
“Feh! Your wish to be safe has made you frightened. We must be bold!”