Persephone said.
A collective gasp escaped from those in the meeting hall. For a few minutes, no one said anything.
Tressa was the one who broke the silence. “Are you listening to yourself? You want to declare war against gods?” She lifted her sight to address the assembly. “Do we take up spears against the Grand Mother of All for not sending sufficient rain? The finest warriors of this village couldn’t defeat a bear, and Persephone expects us to make war with the Fhrey?”
Konniger shot his wife a harsh glance she didn’t see, then said, “If the Fhrey are set against us, then there is nothing that can be done. Men can’t kill gods.”
“The God Killer did,” Persephone answered.
“That’s just a rumor,” Konniger replied.
“Why else would the Fhrey destroy Dureya? They use Dureyans to fight the Gula-Rhunes. What else could have angered them enough to turn against allies? If killing a Fhrey is possible, we need to find the one man who knows how to do it. Then, if we can draw all the clans together, including the Gula, we could—”
Konniger shook his head. “It’s impossible to unite the clans. The Gula hate us as much as we hate them.”
“It’s not impossible,” Persephone replied. “Ask Maeve. She’ll tell you. Generations ago during the Great Flood, Gath of Odeon united the clans,
all
the clans, isn’t that right?”
Maeve nodded but didn’t speak.
“Under his leadership, our people built boats,” Persephone said for her. “We filled them with supplies, and when the waters rose, we set sail and began a new life. Well, this is a new flood, a new disaster. We need to harness the combined strength and wisdom of all our people to survive. When we send messengers to the other dahls to tell them about Nadak and Dureya, we could ask other chieftains to bring their people to meet in Tirre as well.”
“You want to abandon everything we’ve worked hundreds of years to build because the gods saw fit to punish the Dureyans for killing one of them?” Tressa asked, and shook her head, her face bitter.
Konniger sat back, stroking his beard and shifting his eyes while deep in thought. After a few minutes, he straightened and said, “No, such drastic measures aren’t warranted. You’re overreacting. Tressa is right. We have it good here, better than most dahls, and leaving a place of comfort for the unknown is foolish. You are worried about something that will never come to pass.”
Several in the hall were nodding now. Persephone had seen this before. If given a choice between a potentially great hardship and doing nothing, people gravitated toward what was most familiar and comfortable. That was why leadership was needed. To do what was necessary rather than what was easy. Persephone had a history of advocating unpopular ideas and arguing with chieftains. Reglan used to say it was her best and worst trait. If the potential danger weren’t so great, if the repercussions of getting this wrong weren’t so dire, she would have left it at that. Instead, she said, “But what if it does? Then it will be too late. If we—”
Konniger slapped the arm of his chair. “Tirre won’t tolerate us on their doorstep. We’d be as welcome as locusts. Will they share their food? Will there even be enough?” Konniger’s voice had lowered to an angry growl.
Maeve finally interceded. “Persephone,” she began, clasping her hands and taking a step forward. “Gath of Odeon was renowned even before the flood. Heroes like him no longer walk among us. He was able to win the support of every chieftain. Gathering the clans will do nothing without someone to lead. I fear the chieftains won’t kneel before anyone less.”
Konniger glanced at the broadax he had lodged in the winter pillar. “I’ve fought and killed to become chieftain of this clan. I can’t take a knee to any man from Menahan, Melen, Tirre, or Warric. The decision is mine, and I say we stay here. This discussion is over and I’ll
A collective gasp escaped from those in the meeting hall. For a few minutes, no one said anything.
Tressa was the one who broke the silence. “Are you listening to yourself? You want to declare war against gods?” She lifted her sight to address the assembly. “Do we take up spears against the Grand Mother of All for not sending sufficient rain? The finest warriors of this village couldn’t defeat a bear, and Persephone expects us to make war with the Fhrey?”
Konniger shot his wife a harsh glance she didn’t see, then said, “If the Fhrey are set against us, then there is nothing that can be done. Men can’t kill gods.”
“The God Killer did,” Persephone answered.
“That’s just a rumor,” Konniger replied.
“Why else would the Fhrey destroy Dureya? They use Dureyans to fight the Gula-Rhunes. What else could have angered them enough to turn against allies? If killing a Fhrey is possible, we need to find the one man who knows how to do it. Then, if we can draw all the clans together, including the Gula, we could—”
Konniger shook his head. “It’s impossible to unite the clans. The Gula hate us as much as we hate them.”
“It’s not impossible,” Persephone replied. “Ask Maeve. She’ll tell you. Generations ago during the Great Flood, Gath of Odeon united the clans,
all
the clans, isn’t that right?”
Maeve nodded but didn’t speak.
“Under his leadership, our people built boats,” Persephone said for her. “We filled them with supplies, and when the waters rose, we set sail and began a new life. Well, this is a new flood, a new disaster. We need to harness the combined strength and wisdom of all our people to survive. When we send messengers to the other dahls to tell them about Nadak and Dureya, we could ask other chieftains to bring their people to meet in Tirre as well.”
“You want to abandon everything we’ve worked hundreds of years to build because the gods saw fit to punish the Dureyans for killing one of them?” Tressa asked, and shook her head, her face bitter.
Konniger sat back, stroking his beard and shifting his eyes while deep in thought. After a few minutes, he straightened and said, “No, such drastic measures aren’t warranted. You’re overreacting. Tressa is right. We have it good here, better than most dahls, and leaving a place of comfort for the unknown is foolish. You are worried about something that will never come to pass.”
Several in the hall were nodding now. Persephone had seen this before. If given a choice between a potentially great hardship and doing nothing, people gravitated toward what was most familiar and comfortable. That was why leadership was needed. To do what was necessary rather than what was easy. Persephone had a history of advocating unpopular ideas and arguing with chieftains. Reglan used to say it was her best and worst trait. If the potential danger weren’t so great, if the repercussions of getting this wrong weren’t so dire, she would have left it at that. Instead, she said, “But what if it does? Then it will be too late. If we—”
Konniger slapped the arm of his chair. “Tirre won’t tolerate us on their doorstep. We’d be as welcome as locusts. Will they share their food? Will there even be enough?” Konniger’s voice had lowered to an angry growl.
Maeve finally interceded. “Persephone,” she began, clasping her hands and taking a step forward. “Gath of Odeon was renowned even before the flood. Heroes like him no longer walk among us. He was able to win the support of every chieftain. Gathering the clans will do nothing without someone to lead. I fear the chieftains won’t kneel before anyone less.”
Konniger glanced at the broadax he had lodged in the winter pillar. “I’ve fought and killed to become chieftain of this clan. I can’t take a knee to any man from Menahan, Melen, Tirre, or Warric. The decision is mine, and I say we stay here. This discussion is over and I’ll
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