his head and left the room.
CHAPTER 3
CHIEF TSBOSSO
Through their communal echo-location, the towers of King Nahas’ royal longhouse, the tower Queen Hinis and the women would use to feast with the Peacock Clan women, and Tsbosso’s two Peacock Clan towers spontaneously created a closed feasting hall. All other longhouses—Wheel Clan, Peacock Clan and the great clans—spread out around them in all directions.
In his annals, Psal wrote:
In forty-nine ruined cities of Odunao, the truce festivals.
And in the Eastern Ruined City, sixty-seven Peacock longhouses,
Seventy-eight Wheel Clan longhouses.
Netophah’s mother’s clan was there.
White-haired, eyes like the crescent moon, the Waymaker clans—a good, gentle, wise people.
But scattered—unwilling to grasp and hold, looking only toward The Permanent Home.
They lived as nomads, taming regions then moving on.
The Grassrope clans—dark-haired and sallow. A filthy, loutish, selfish, grasping clan.
Stout from gobbling, with desperate hungry greedy eyes.
Hinis’ people—the Macaw clan, a people skilled in survival.
Hinis greeted her brother, Bukko, loading their baskets with fine rarities;
All these clans lived in peace with the Wheel Clan.
Then the great and noble Peacock Clans!
Expert, their mastery of animal science.
Out of Tsbosso’s longhouse came lions and reptiles, as docile as lambs.
Of all the great clans, only the all-female Voca was absent.
But who was surprised at that? The Voca hated all male-ruled clans,
From within the Wheel Clan, Ezbel the Voca Queen was born.
She hated them above all clans.
The smaller clans also feasted.
For one day, equal to the great tribes.
And in the distance, the Great Eastern Ruined City and the Great Mesa stood
Reminding all of the ancient time when night spoke of permanence and all the clans were one.
Freed from the duty of translating for his father, Psal clasped his staff and searched for Cassia among the festive crowds. Mark you how gracious, how charming, how exuberant the young prince was when not among his own clan. How he leaped on that withered leg and scampered about with joy! I have forgotten what I am: a prince, forgotten my own peace. Surrounded by other clans, I find myself again. Now, girls from the Waymaker Clans stroked his face; women and men from the Grassrope clans flirted with him, running their fingers through his flowing dark curls; Peacock Clan girls flitted past, flirting in their dyed buckskin skirts, their faces painted like butterflies or virginal white; warriors and studiers from clans large and small bowed as they passed him, warriors and studiers from other Wheel Clan longhouses, pointed at him: That is the Firstborn of the Wheel Clan!
But where was Cassia? She should be with the unmarried girls, flirting with young men, teasing old warriors, showing off her beauty. Finding her should not be so difficult. At last Psal saw her, but she walked among the married Peacock women. Her face was no longer covered in white clay but with red. The roundness of her stomach could not be mistaken. Still, hope was securely lodged in the boy’s heart as he raced toward her. She half-smiled when their eyes met and walked toward him, glancing around her.
“Why are you here, among these married…” A marriage tattoo on her cheek. Even if she has married someone since the last time we met, it is possible her husband has died.
Cassia carried a large wooden bowl. She placed it atop a broken stone column. The bowl of steaming Yisin grain wobbled, but did not fall.
Psal’s heartstrings tightened. Could you not have waited for me? “So you’re another man’s wife now?”
“I have wanted to see you…to explain,” she said in the Wheel Clan tongue and kissed his cheek tenderly. “But Father has kept me from you all these moons. When you sent messages to the towers, he did not tell me. And all this morning he ordered me to stay with the married women.” Tears trailed through the clay on her brown cheeks. “A chief’s son from the Full Blossom Peacock Clan gave Father much pharma science for me. I pleaded and begged but—”
“But you promised.”
“My father broke my pledge, Psallo. Not I. My heart continues to desire only you.”
“Does he…your new husband…beat you?”
More tears flowed. “No more or less than is expected. But I must warn you—” She stopped speaking suddenly and trembled like a child caught in a forbidden act.
Psal turned. Old Chief Tsbosso strode toward them. Cassia lifted her grain bowl and disappeared into the throng of married Peacock Clan women.
Psal’s head throbbed. “Are the truce negotiations finished already?” he asked when the old man stood before him. Why have you forced her to marry one who beats her, one she does not love? He reached out and straightened the mantle slipping from the old man’s shoulders.
Tsbosso’s gnarled fingers pinched Psal playfully on the right ear. “Many clans seek treaties with your father. Small things first, then important things. And you, my boy?” Tsbosso stroked the staff he had given Psal. “Has this helped you? You lean on it like a prince born among my people.”
“The others deem me weak when I use it. But it is often necessary to lean upon it.”
“You must use it, my boy! Your tender heart, you cannot help. The body, however, can be trained to stand straight and strong. You don’t want to look puny, do you?”
Psal nodded. He’s pretending not to see my anger or his daughter’s heartbreak, because he knows he’s the cause of it.
They walked toward Tsbosso’s longhouse and sat on the ground near its main entrance. Together, they looked out at the festival, talking of this and that, of ancient lore and new discoveries, of illness and health, of the cruel judgments made by unkind uncaring hearts, of clans and traditions.
The old man scratched his head. “I’ve warned your father more times than I can remember that sending apprentice studiers off to roam the world with disgruntled old masters is a dangerous practice. No, no, that kind of thing never comes to any good. And the Master of the Wintersea? The bitterest of Wheel Clan studiers? No, I knew it would not work. And have I not been proven right? But who can tell Nahas anything?”
“Indeed,” Psal said. Like Nahas, none can tell you anything either.
“Come now, my boy! You look like a cliff-dweller who has just realized night has fallen and he’s two leagues from home.” He gestured widely. “We’re at a festival. Beautiful girls
