The People of the Black Sun (42 page)

“Let him through!” High Matron Weyra called. “Who are you?”

Sky Messenger stopped long enough to meet and hold her gaze. His brown eyes blazed so brilliantly that people gaped at him, their faces immobile, as though afraid to move in his presence.

In a strong, powerful voice, he said, “I am Sky Messenger, called Dekanawida by the Flint People. I've come to offer you something better than battle, better than death! Reason and righteousness must prevail, elders, or none of us will survive the coming darkness!”

As he strode forward, the crowd fell back before him, shoving one another to get out of his way, and opening a narrow pathway that led straight to the Ruling Council.

Hiyawento and Towa had to hurry to stay close.

“It's him! I fought against him once … look at the cut of his cape … definitely Standing Stone…”

Hiyawento's fingers went tight around his war club as he scanned every face they passed, noting those who scowled and sneered, paying special attention to hands that rested upon belted weapons.

Sky Messenger bowed deeply before the elders. In a deep respectful voice, he said, “Council Members, I ask your forgiveness for disturbing this meeting.”

Most of the elders stared at him slack-jawed, almost certain they sat in the presence of a living legend, but not quite. One or two gave Sky Messenger wary looks.

High Matron Weyra said, “You really are Sky Messenger, the son of Matron Jigonsaseh and Speaker Gonda?”

“Yes, High Matron. I am Bear Clan, from Yellowtail Village. If you will allow it, I would request an audience with your Ruling Council.”

*   *   *

Ghostly silence possessed the inside of the council house. The warm air was still. Only the firelight wavered as elders' hands clenched, or feet shuffled.

Hiyawento and Towa stood to the left and right of Sky Messenger, ready for anything, their gazes scanning the small gathering. High Matron Weyra had wisely limited the audience to just the Ruling Council, but thumps sounded around the walls outside as people shifted, pressing close, ears to the walls in an attempt to hear anything. Sky Messenger had just finished relating his Dream, and a low awed drone penetrated the elm bark walls.

Where he sat on the log bench on the opposite side of the fire, Sky Messenger leaned forward. He propped his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers before him. As he gazed across the flames at the twelve most influential people in the Landing nation, worry cut lines across his forehead and around his wide mouth. He appeared much older than his twenty-three summers. A stranger entering the house just now, seeing him for the first time, would guess Sky Messenger's age at perhaps forty summers. Each layer of Sky Messenger's hair caught the glow and created short jagged lines around his head. His long black cape had fallen into folds on the floor.

“There is one point I do not understand,” High Matron Weyra said. Her white hair, thinning on top, hung limp over her ears, but it was her wrinkled face that held a man's attention. Shadows darkened the cavernous hollows of her cheeks, and filled in her skeletal eye sockets. Wiry gray eyebrows created bushy tufts above her kind, thoughtful eyes. “You said that just before Elder Brother Sun turns his back on the world, there will be gray shades drifting through the air around you, their voices hushed like those of lost souls. But are they lost souls? Do you know?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” an old man said with a tottering nod. “It sounds to me as though all lost souls will be found. That they are the last congregation.”

Sky Messenger's eyes tightened. “The shades are the dead who still walk and breathe, elders. More than that, I don't know.”

The old man said, “But the dead do not walk and breathe, Prophet. They are dead.”

Sky Messenger bowed his head to stare briefly at the flames dancing around the logs in the fire hearth. A thick bed of red coals glowed around the edges. “Are they? I'm not sure, elder. I can't explain these things.”

When Sky Messenger paused, the council members, six men and six women, shifted silently, waiting for him to continue.

“But I know that the darkness will swallow Great Grandmother Earth.” Sky Messenger looked up to meet their gazes. “I can't stop it without your help, elders.”

More shifting as soft voices discussed what they'd heard.

“How may we help?” Weyra asked softly.

Sky Messenger seemed to be listening to the voices outside, perhaps to the barking dogs. “I have come to believe that compassion is the highest form of politics, elders. Many of you are much older and wiser than I am. I'm sure you've known this truth since long before I was born, but it is new to me. As many of you have heard, I spent most of my life as a warrior. Killing my enemies was the only form of politics I knew. Elders, we must replace blood revenge as a means of justice. It has to end.”

“Replace it with what?” the old man snapped, as though appalled by the notion. His lips puckered over toothless gums. Bear claws decorated the throat of his cape.
Bear Clan.
“The Law of Retribution gives us the right to—”

“Yes, it does.” Sky Messenger respectfully dipped his head, silently apologizing for interrupting. He hesitated as though preparing himself, then in a deep resonant voice, he said, “When I look across this fire, I see that there have been deaths in many of your families. I grieve with you, elders. If I could, I would wipe away your falling tears and take the sorrow from your hearts, so that you might open your minds and look around peacefully, without hatred. I know this is not an easy thing. The spirits of our bereaved nations are tired. We all starve. We all lash out in fear. There
is
a better way. A peace alliance between all of our peoples.”

One of the younger elders, a very thin man with black-streaked gray hair and close-set eyes, laughed. “And how many nations have you convinced to join this alliance?” Wolf tracks scattered his white cape.
Wolf Clan.

“The alliance is currently composed of the Standing Stone nation, the Flint nation, and three villages of the Hills nation.”

“The same three villages that broke away from Atotarho to fight on your side in the recent battle?” Weyra asked.

Sky Messenger nodded. “Yes, High Matron. Coldspring Village, Riverbank and Canassatego Village have joined us.”

“I suppose at some point you plan to tell us the benefits of this alliance?” the Wolf Clan elder pressed. “Why don't you get to it? If Tagohsah can be believed, your own people are under attack, and likely to be destroyed in the next few days. Which means the Standing Stone nation will be of no use to us in our current situation.”

Sky Messenger unlaced his fingers and opened his hands to them. “I'm not sure I believe his words, but even if my People are not under attack right now, they will be soon. Just as yours will. It is inevitable. This winter is going to be desperate for every nation. If we don't join forces to help each other survive, I fear that by springtime we will all be dead.”

Hiyawento watched the expressions. Two elders clearly opposed the alliance. From their cape decorations, Heron Clan and Beaver Clan. Their eyes had turned dark and brooding, and they sat rigid on the benches. The other ten council members, however, watched Sky Messenger with such hope in their eyes, it hurt to look at. They wanted peace more than anything on earth.

“Will you ask the filthy Mountain People to join the alliance?” the frail old woman from the Beaver Clan demanded to know.

“I will.”

“Well, I do not wish to be part of any alliance that allows the Mountain People to live,” she said. “They
must
be destroyed! My clan will accept nothing less.”

Sky Messenger spread his arms in a quieting gesture. “Let me explain the alliance. First, each nation that joins must pledge to give its life, and lives of its people, for every other member. Second, any alliance member that violates this oath will be punished by the combined might of the alliance. If the Landing People join, the alliance will help to protect your borders. We will also send more Traders to you, so that you may exchange the magnificent bowls you make for our corn, or our blankets. When necessary the members of the alliance will pool a portion of their harvests and redistribute the food to needy villages, no matter their nation. We—”

“How quickly could you send food?” Weyra asked almost breathlessly.

Ravenous looks entered the eyes of every council member.

“Once you join us, we will begin pooling what little we have so that we may take care of hungry villages like yours. I won't lie to you. No one has much this winter. But we will do the best we can.”

Weyra blinked around the house, as though judging the mood of the other council members. “I have doubts about the alliance's ability to keep its promises. Does anyone else?”

Nods went round.

Sky Messenger said, “Please explain these doubts.”

Weyra looked back at him. “Prophet, we are far away from the countries of the current alliance members. What if the Mountain People refuse to join you? They are our closest neighbors, and they wish to destroy us. How will the alliance get here in time if we ask for help to defend ourselves?”

Sky Messenger sat back and squared his broad shoulders. “Details will have to be worked out, of course, but I think the wisest course may be to have each nation assign warriors to your borders to block raids into Landing country.”

Elders whispered behind their hands.

The Beaver Clan elder said, “And how will you feed such huge numbers of warriors? You don't expect us to provide for them, do you?”

“No, that would be too great a burden. I think each nation should be required to contribute equal amounts of food to sustain the army.”

Council members cast glances at one another, unwilling to openly state their opinions at this time.

Sky Messenger lifted his hands. “Allow me to say one final thing, and then I will go and leave you to your deliberations. Elders, I truly believe that no nation can create an empire by conquering its enemies. Empires arise when enemies forget their own interests and become of one mind, one heart, and one body.”

The Bear Clan elder sneered. “And how can such a thing be accomplished? We have too many different clans—”

“We must remember the truth of our origins. We are all relatives. Clans of alliance members shall recognize each other as such. Every member of the Bear Clan, no matter his or her nation, will be my relative, and I will treat him as such. Wolf Clan will be Wolf Clan. Turtle Clan will be Turtle Clan. We will return to the ways of our Blessed Ancestors.” He laced his fingers and squeezed them together in one hard fist. “One mind, one heart, one body. We will become one
Haudenosaunee,
one People of the Longhouse.”

High Matron Weyra's elderly face slackened, as though she was beginning to understand the kind of alliance he proposed. “So, the clans will be the binding that holds the alliance together?”

“As they are in individual nations, clan mothers will be the heart of all decisions. In my vision, I see clan mothers from every nation sitting around the same fire, guiding the course of the alliance, assisted by a Ruling Council of chiefs.”

The elders began a spirited discussion.

Sky Messenger rose to his feet and slowly took the time to meet each gaze. “I must return to my home. I am needed there. If you wish to join us, please send word to me as soon as possible, and I will begin organizing the alliance to help you. Or better yet, send emissaries from your Ruling Council to Bur Oak Village so that you can meet with alliance representatives personally. We hope to welcome you soon.”

He bowed deeply and walked around the fire. Hiyawento and Towa followed him down the central aisle, through the leather door hanging, and stepped outside into the crowd. Six guards, including War Chief Nokweh, stood just outside the council house door with worried expressions on their young faces.

Hiyawento swore another thousand people had squeezed into the plaza. He stepped in front of Sky Messenger, shielding his friend with his body. “Stay close behind me,” Hiyawento ordered.

“Blessed Spirits, I can't believe—”

“You'd better start believing, my friend. As things become more desperate, this is going to get much worse. The only thing they have is hope.”

Towa called, “Hiyawento! I'll cover Sky Messenger's back. Go!”

They started walking through a writhing sea of reaching hands.

“Stop! Let me touch him. I must touch him!”

“Move! Please, I have to get close…”

“I just need to speak with the human False Face for a moment … get out of my way!”

“Let me through! I must tell him something. He must hear this! Stop pushing me!”

“Gods!” Hiyawento shoved a man away. The panicked insanity of the crowd would smother them if they didn't get out of the village.

Towa yelled, “Hiyawento! Use your war club if you have to!”

He pulled his club from beneath his belt, and waved it over his head. “Move, or I'll start crushing skulls! The Prophet must leave!”

“No, don't take him … belongs to all of us, doesn't he … Let him go! He's tired, he needs to stay here for the … We'll kill you if you try to take him!”

People, many of them weeping, stumbled over each other trying to move as Hiyawento bulled through the mass of humanity, clearing a path to the gates. When he neared the plaza bonfire and saw Tagohsah still standing there, Hiyawento shouted, “Tagohsah! Meet us outside!”

“Why? What do you want?” The man's voice was shrill, frightened. He kept looking around at the eddying crowd as though he knew he'd be crushed long before he made it to the gates.

“If you're not out there in one-quarter hand of time, I'm coming back in to find you!” Hiyawento glared at the ugly little Flint Trader, then turned back to forcing his way through the grasping sea of hands.