fishing, a much better way to spend a sunny morning,” Zumo said. Vulth o was kin to Hertio, and the man was supposed to have been training with Kavio. “Enjoy trying to make eagles out of your chickens, Kavio. You’ll never follow in your father’s footsteps.”
“Enjoy your beer, Zumo. You’re already following in your father’s footsteps.”
Zumo’s no strils flared. He stomped away.
Kavio kept his eyes on the melee. He noted which men attacked at once and which stood there blinking stupidly before they caught on. He noted who tried to help his teammates and who preferred to grab as much glory for himself as possible, without concern for the larger goal. He noted who glanced to him for approval and who glanced toward him in contempt . He let the fight continue long enough that he had time to watch and judge the performance of each individual warrior. Then he pounded his spear on the ground.
“Stop.” He pretended more displeasure with their performance than he felt, though he didn’t have to exaggerate his scorn. “You fight like hens . Each one running around pecking the enemy. No plan, no goal. That’s going to change.”
The men buzzed like a beehive hit with a stick. Kavio gave new orders to each war group, arranging one side in the tapered rows of the Arrow Formation, then ordered them to begin again. This time the group in the Arrow Formation broke through the ranks of the unorganized group and routed them. The winning side cheered. The losers looked disgruntled but thoughtful.
The rest of the morning went well enough, except Kavio finally discovered what seemed wrong to him. Missing men. A few, l ike Hertio’s lazy cousin Vulth o, could probably be found emptying beer pots, but what of the rest?
He asked Hertio at middle meal. The reply did not set him at ease: No men of Rainbow Labyrinth maternal descent fought with the warriors of Yellow Bear, not even recognized Tavaedies.
“You’ve appointed a man of Rainbow Labyrinth blood as war leader, but won’t let men of his kith hold a spear in the same army?” asked Kavio.
Hertio didn’t answer until after he had licked the last drop of grease from a roasted pigeon’s wing. The fat glistened on his upper lip.
“They could go back to their own tribe lands. You can’t.”
The answer added a poor taste to the meal.
Dindi
Dindi developed strategies for sneaking and spying. If the Tavaedies practiced in the kiva, she hid in the storeroom, which she reached by crawling through the air well. If the Tavaedies practiced outside in the sequoia forest, her job was trickier. First she had to evade Jensi and the other Initiate maidens. Fetching water, a daily task of all non-Tavaedi females, provided the best opportunity most days. The hardest part was still ahead, because she had to creep after the Tavaedies without anyone noticing they were being trailed. She chose her steps as stealthily as a huntress of nervous prey, and even painted her face with hunter’s colors to blend in the foliage.
At first, she never went a day without a pounding heart and sweaty palms, convinced it would be the day she would be caught and stoned as a hexer. Every day she survived, she relaxed a little more, until gradually she lowered her guard too far and made a mistake.
First, she tried to leave too soon, and Jensi demanded to know where she was going, and then, by the time she soothed Jensi’s suspicions and left, the Tavaedies had already been practicing most of the morning and Dindi was in a rush to find them. Then the fae began acting weird.
Fae never bothered her in the kiva, but the woods were another matter. She shooed them away, mostly, though some days they convinced her to go dance with them instead of following the humans. On this day, the fae showed no interest in playing. They hissed in terror and rage. A cloud of willawisps buzzed toward her like a disturbed hive of bees. She threw up her hands, afraid they might actually attack her, so wild were
“Enjoy your beer, Zumo. You’re already following in your father’s footsteps.”
Zumo’s no strils flared. He stomped away.
Kavio kept his eyes on the melee. He noted which men attacked at once and which stood there blinking stupidly before they caught on. He noted who tried to help his teammates and who preferred to grab as much glory for himself as possible, without concern for the larger goal. He noted who glanced to him for approval and who glanced toward him in contempt . He let the fight continue long enough that he had time to watch and judge the performance of each individual warrior. Then he pounded his spear on the ground.
“Stop.” He pretended more displeasure with their performance than he felt, though he didn’t have to exaggerate his scorn. “You fight like hens . Each one running around pecking the enemy. No plan, no goal. That’s going to change.”
The men buzzed like a beehive hit with a stick. Kavio gave new orders to each war group, arranging one side in the tapered rows of the Arrow Formation, then ordered them to begin again. This time the group in the Arrow Formation broke through the ranks of the unorganized group and routed them. The winning side cheered. The losers looked disgruntled but thoughtful.
The rest of the morning went well enough, except Kavio finally discovered what seemed wrong to him. Missing men. A few, l ike Hertio’s lazy cousin Vulth o, could probably be found emptying beer pots, but what of the rest?
He asked Hertio at middle meal. The reply did not set him at ease: No men of Rainbow Labyrinth maternal descent fought with the warriors of Yellow Bear, not even recognized Tavaedies.
“You’ve appointed a man of Rainbow Labyrinth blood as war leader, but won’t let men of his kith hold a spear in the same army?” asked Kavio.
Hertio didn’t answer until after he had licked the last drop of grease from a roasted pigeon’s wing. The fat glistened on his upper lip.
“They could go back to their own tribe lands. You can’t.”
The answer added a poor taste to the meal.
Dindi
Dindi developed strategies for sneaking and spying. If the Tavaedies practiced in the kiva, she hid in the storeroom, which she reached by crawling through the air well. If the Tavaedies practiced outside in the sequoia forest, her job was trickier. First she had to evade Jensi and the other Initiate maidens. Fetching water, a daily task of all non-Tavaedi females, provided the best opportunity most days. The hardest part was still ahead, because she had to creep after the Tavaedies without anyone noticing they were being trailed. She chose her steps as stealthily as a huntress of nervous prey, and even painted her face with hunter’s colors to blend in the foliage.
At first, she never went a day without a pounding heart and sweaty palms, convinced it would be the day she would be caught and stoned as a hexer. Every day she survived, she relaxed a little more, until gradually she lowered her guard too far and made a mistake.
First, she tried to leave too soon, and Jensi demanded to know where she was going, and then, by the time she soothed Jensi’s suspicions and left, the Tavaedies had already been practicing most of the morning and Dindi was in a rush to find them. Then the fae began acting weird.
Fae never bothered her in the kiva, but the woods were another matter. She shooed them away, mostly, though some days they convinced her to go dance with them instead of following the humans. On this day, the fae showed no interest in playing. They hissed in terror and rage. A cloud of willawisps buzzed toward her like a disturbed hive of bees. She threw up her hands, afraid they might actually attack her, so wild were
Similar Books
