“That went well,” Makon said.
“Who was the old woman? The local chief?” Jenrosa asked.
“Herita. She is their oldest, and so speaks for them. They have no chief as such.”
“What did Korigan and Herita say to each other?” Gudon asked his brother.
“Korigan asked about the other chiefs. Herita said they all took food, but a few of them seemed grim.”
“That’s not good news,” Kumul said.
“There are many reasons to be grim in this life,” Gudon pointed out. “But, yes, we could have hoped for a better sign.”
“Who can come to this meeting tonight?” Kumul asked.
“All of us, but only in the second circle.”
“The second circle?”
“The first circle—the inner circle—is for the chiefs. Their followers, the fifty they may bring with them, form the second circle around them.”
“Do the followers bring their weapons?”
“Have you ever seen a Chett without one?”
Kumul shook his head. “Does this meeting ever end in bloodshed?”
“Sometimes, but never between the chiefs, only their followers. There has been no such violence since Korigan’s father became king.”
“You never give him a name,” Lynan said.
“Who, little master?”
“Korigan’s father.”
Gudon looked steadily at the prince. “His name means many things for us Chetts, even those of his own clan. It means unity and purpose. It also means bloodshed and strife. We use it only when we have to.”
“May I know the name?”
Gudon nodded. “It was Lynan.”
It was almost dark. Korigan and her party made their way to the meeting of the two circles. Jenrosa and Kumul walked at the back of the group and briefly—too briefly for either of them—held hands.
“I wish we had more time alone together,” Jenrosa said.
Kumul laughed. “It was hard enough when we were with just the White Wolf clan. Now that we are with the whole Chett nation ...” He shook his head in frustration.
“Maybe we can volunteer for scouting duty,” she suggested. “Just the two of us and a tent.”
Kumul considered the suggestion. “Do you think we’d get much scouting done?”
“That would depend on what we were looking for.”
“Yes, I can see that. Would we need a map, or maybe a Chett guide?”
“I already know the way,” she said.
“Well, that’s useful.”
As the party passed the camps of different clans, its reception swung from easy greetings to sullen silence.
“Do you think Korigan will be in danger tonight?”
“Almost certainly. I am more concerned for Lynan’s safety. He does not understand what he is getting himself into.”
“Do any of us?”
Kumul shrugged. “Maybe none of us has since fleeing Kendra.” He loosened his sword in its sheath.
Jenrosa risked holding his hand again. “Please be careful. I want nothing to happen to you.”
* * *
The meeting was held away from the sooq at the end of the long shallow valley now inhabited by all seventeen major Chett clans and dozens of the minor ones. Nearly thirty chiefs had elected to come, most with fifty followers. The first circle sat around a blazing fire. The second circle, filled with well over a thousand warriors, was packed tightly, its members standing to make more room. Lynan and his companions were near the inner rim of the circle, but the dark helped disguise them; only Kumul’s height stood out in the crowd, but everyone’s attention was focused on the chiefs.
Herita, without clan or supporters, spoke first, welcoming all to the High Sooq; she then asked if anyone wished to speak. Lynan expected Korigan to claim the right to speak first, but she stayed seated and said nothing. Even Herita looked at her expectantly, but after a short while asked again if anyone wanted to speak.
“What is Korigan doing?” Lynan asked Gudon.
“Waiting to see who dares to take her privilege,” Gudon said. “If her opponents are well organized, there will be one clan chief leading them, and she or he will take this opportunity. Korigan wants to know who it is.”
But no chief answered Herita’s call.
Herita returned to stand before Korigan. “My queen, will you not speak to your people?” Some of the other chiefs echoed the call.
Korigan stood up slowly. “I accept the honor of speaking first.”
There were cheers from the second circle, and not just from her own followers.
“There is news from the east,” she said, her voice carrying across the whole meeting, strong and determined. “The mercenaries have returned.”
For the briefest of moments there was a sudden silence, and then the whole meeting erupted in furious tumult. Several of the chiefs shot to their feet and shouted, some in alarm, some in angry denial.
“Ah, now we see who oppose her,” Gudon said.
Korigan waited until the some of the noise had subsided. “My people have fought with them. Thirty mercenaries were killed.”
“Whose mercenaries?” a man’s voice demanded. All eyes turned to a chief on the other side of the fire from Korigan. He was big for a Chett, wide and strong-armed. His face was pitted and crevassed, his nose squashed flat, his lips wide and thin.
“Rendle’s,” Korigan answered.
“How do you know this? Was Rendle with them?”
“No, but you know, Eynon, that I have sources of information outside of the Oceans of Grass.”
“Your spies,” Eynon spat.
Gudon whispered into Kumul’s ear: “He is chief of the Horse clan. His father was the most determined and the strongest enemy of Korigan’s father, and the one defeated here at the High Sooq in the last, great battle. It is no surprise that he is opposed to Korigan.”
“My spies?” Korigan said, her voice cold. “Our spies.”
“We had no need of them before ...” Eynon let the sentence hang, but everyone knew he meant before Korigan’s father had united the Chetts.
“Before the Slaver War?” Korigan said. “Maybe that was why we suffered so cruelly at the hands of Rendle and his ilk.”
“Oh, nicely done,” Ager said admiringly. “She turned that around.”
“Rendle is a mercenary first and foremost,” another voice said. Another chief stood up, a woman. She looked as old as Herita, but stood straighter. “His presence on the Oceans of Grass does not mean he has returned to take slaves.”
“Akota,” Gudon told Lynan. “Chief of the Moon clan.”
“Another old enemy?”
“No, but the clan has always fiercely independent. Its warriors always doubt what they themselves have not seen.”
“Whatever else Rendle may or may not be, slavery was his trade in the past; how do we know he has not returned to it?” Korigan demanded, asking the question of the entire first circle.
“But the great queen in Kendra would not allow the slavers to ride again,” another chief countered, standing to get everyone’s attention. “She promised us they would never return!”
There was a loud sound of agreement from many of the chiefs and their followers.
“The great queen is dead!” Korigan announced.
The chief who had spoke froze. Akota slumped to the ground. Even Eynon looked bewildered.
“Dead?” he asked. “When?”
“The beginning of summer,” Korigan said.
“But her son would not tolerate slavery any more than she—”
“Berayma was murdered before he could be crowned. Areava, his sister, now rules Grenda Lear.”