What was torn asunder would come back to its resting place, and the Ashioi, cursed and exiled, would come home.
Many spoke, all at once, now that The Impatient One had spoken out of turn. Peace. War. Appeasement. Negotiation. Each view had its adherents, but those who clamored for war shouted loudest.
“I will speak,” Feather Cloak said. The rest, even The Impatient One, quieted. “Listen well. If we do not speak with one voice, we will surely perish. We no longer have leisure to argue. A decision must be made, so I will make it. Let it be done in this way: Let the people be gathered inland, where they may hope for the most safety. But let them assemble in thirteen groups, each apart from the others, so that if one falls into danger the others may yet escape. Cat Mask, you will split our warriors into two groups. The larger group will remain with you at a place of your choosing, where you can move and fight swiftly. Lizard Mask, you will order the rest into small groups that can patrol the borderlands to warn the rest of us if any hostile force passes our borders. The council will disperse with the others. I will remain here until the storm passes. White Feather will act as my midwife. For the rest, we must prepare to defend ourselves, but only after the storm can we know how we are situated and how many of us have survived. We will assemble again at that time to choose our course of action. I have spoken. Let none dispute my words.”
She had only once before invoked her right to make a unilateral decision. No wise leader did so often. She sighed, doubly burdened, as the council acquiesced. Most left swiftly to carry out her orders. A few tarried, arguing in soft voices that nevertheless echoed and reechoed in the cavern. Only Eldest Uncle remained silent where he sat, cross-legged, on the second terrace.
“You have offered no opinion, Uncle,” she said.
“He has no opinion,” replied his daughter, turning away from her conversation with her companion White Feather who, like her, was harsh but strong. “He has fallen in love with his grandson’s naked mate, whom all men desire because she burns with the fire of the upper spheres.”
Eldest Uncle sighed.
“Is this true?” asked Feather Cloak. “I admit I was surprised when you brought her before the council. She is dangerous, and in the way of such dangerous things, attractive and bright.”
“She is young, and wanted teaching. If you women can think of nothing but sex, that is not my fault.”
“My father and my son—both enslaved to her! What do you say, Feather Cloak?”
“I banished her, seeing what she was. Beyond the danger she poses to every earthly creature because of what she is, I saw no harm in her.”
“You are a fool!”
Feather Cloak smiled, clasping her hands over her huge abdomen. “That may be. And maybe you are jealous.”
Eldest Uncle chuckled.
The Impatient One glared.
“But I sit in the Eagle Seat. If you dispute my right to take this place, you will have to prove yourself more worthy than I am.”
Like every adult among her people, Feather Cloak could use a bow and had learned to defend herself with knife and staff, but The Impatient One had relished the arts of war in which all adolescents trained. She was physically strong, with powerful limbs and a martial grace that could be used to protect, or to threaten, as she did now, tense and poised, a warrior ready to cast a spear at her enemy.
“I have walked the spheres! Do not mock my power.”
“I do not mock you, Cousin. But I do not fear you either. Power is not wisdom. It is only power. Cat Mask and his warriors cannot protect us if he makes rash choices. We are weakened by our exile. We do not know what we may yet suffer. I counsel caution and readiness. You yourself spoke against using force of arms.”
“Only because they are many, and we are few. We must strike swiftly with other means. The greatest and cruelest of their warriors can be overcome by sorcery. I have defeated even the wild beasts among them who would have torn me limb from limb.”
“Beware,” said Eldest Uncle quietly. “We have seen how much greater is suffering when sorcery is used for harm.”
“You think we should surrender!”
“Do I? We must seek peace.”
“Peace is surrender! Humankind will never offer us peace.”
“How can you know this, Daughter?”
“I know them better than you do! I have lived among them. I bore a child to one of them.” She looked defiantly at Feather Cloak. “They are not like us. They will never make peace with us. My son was raised as an outcast among them, and even so they seduced him to their ways.”