The Constant Tower. Carole McDonnell
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suppose those who have brothers in our longhouse—who would avenge them—could refuse to comfort.”
“Who comforts them?” she asked.
“Rangi comforts them,” Ephan said. “Tomah comforts them.”
“I don’t know what Rangi or Tomah are,” she said, “but the one who looks normal—that pale beautiful one—men must love being comforted by her?”
“That one is Lyrenna,” Psal said. “She has an ugly disposition. But yes, they do like her body. That little one with her is her son.”
Ktwala’s voice echoed through the longhouse calling out to Maharai.
Maharai asked Psal, and looked down the corridor at her mother. “Old Jion says your people don’t like those whom the Creator badly-made. He says you allow the badly-made girls to live but kill the badly-made boys. Still, look…you’re badly-made and you’re alive!” Her mother called again and Maharai rolled her eyes. “Mother probably thinks I’m shaming her somewhere. Be safe, my brothers.”
She ran toward the gathering room where Gidea was weeping about losing both her daughter and Ktwala at once.
“The separation has occurred too suddenly,” Gidea was saying. “I did not wake this morning expecting to be bereft of my daughter. And, although you Wheel Clan sisters assure us that both towers will meet frequently, I must be sure Lan and Deyn are not cruel husbands who will beat my daughter. Therefore, we Iden Peacock women will return to our longhouse. Tomorrow we will show you Iden hospitality. Then we will schedule the courtship intervals. The Iden men must examine the Wheel Clan warriors properly.”
Gidea stopped speaking momentarily as Ephan and Psal walked through the gathering room into the night. Satima took the opportunity to speak.
“This is a rare night, Sister. A night when we women can laugh and sport among ourselves without listening to men talk of war. And courtship rituals during a time of war? My Iden sisters, this is not practical.”
Ktwala tried to make peace. “Gidea,” she said, “let the men fend for themselves tonight and see women’s worth. Perhaps Rain will agree to the courtship interval. Even in a time of war. And yet I do believe your daughter’s husbands are as honorable as my Nahas.”
But Gidea rose from her seat, dragged Ouis from Ktwala’s lap. “My sister, you’re letting your heart—and that other thing—rule your mind.” She turned to Satima and Rain. “I only speak my heart. Don’t be insulted. What mother would not worry for her daughter?”
So, the Iden women rose as one—Ktwala apologizing profusely for Gidea’s behavior—and forsook the exotic Wheel Clan dainties and fermented meats. They bade the Wheel Clan women goodbye. “Who knows if we shall see each other again?”
And—despite Rain’s protestations—went out into the night.
CHAPTER 12
THE SLAUGHTER OF THE IDEN
As the Iden women neared their longhouse, Maharai recognized the markings of their domesticated animals grazing in the darkness. “Isn’t that Ghali?” she asked, pointing to her pet lamb.
“It is!” Gidea looked about, pouting. “Our men are useless! We leave for half a day and they allow the animals to escape! And now…with the third moon, there is little time to call them back home.”
“Why fear?” Ktwala spun around on her heels and made a gesture that took in all the Wheel Clan lands. “Sisters, we’re in Wheel Clan lands. The Wheel Clan, our ally, will anchor our longhouse here. Tomorrow our flutes will call our animals home again.”
In the distance, near the entrance of the Iden longhouse three Wheel Clan warriors stood looking out toward the forest. Maharai asked, “Shall the Wheel Clan warriors stay in our longhouse tonight? How shall we sleep with men boasting of their kills?”
Gidea laughed. “Oh wondrous our new life will be!”
The aged Nunu dance and sang,
“New life for us now.
New life for our women.
New life for Ktwala.
New life for the Iden Clan.
The Wheel Clan has conquered the night.”
They continued homeward, singing, Ouis racing ahead, overtaking Psal and Ephan who lingered along the way. Maharai hurried after him. Then a hand from behind a bush snared her foot. In the dark, Jion’s voice, an almost inaudible whisper:
“Little Spider, we are entrapped.”
“Old Jion!” Laughter as she kicked at the bush, chiding. “Hiding in the grass? Come, come, drunken one! Tonight the Wheel Clan warriors, our new allies, will teach you to keen our tower! And you lie there—”
She bent low and her voice left: Old Jion’s face was bloodied. He lifted himself slightly, then fell into the grass again.
“We…should not have trusted them,” Jion said. “Our brothers…murdered.”
Maharai could only reach those women who were close to her. She called them. They quickly gathered round. Terror struck, they held onto each other. Old Jion was lying in his blood. Meanwhile, the Wheel Clan warriors, already alerted by their singing, peered into the darkness.
“Ktwala,” Gidea whispered, “your new husband’s clan has destroyed us all.”
Maharai knelt beside the old man, held him close. “Old Jion, hold to life.” But where was Ouis? She stood to her feet, looked about. Past leaves, past boulder, no sight of her brother.
“Escape.” Jion’s voice frail, his tone futile, his eyes already looking past Maharai into the other world. “They want to steal you. Escape. Into rocks and caverns. Or be scattered.”
The women looked about at each other. Nunu was too old to run fast, other women carried small children. One was pregnant. The rest were little girls too young or too fearful to escape the Wheel Clan warriors who were almost upon them.
Words spoken in the Peacock dialect but tinged with the Wheel Clan accent called out.
“Your warriors are conquered but young boys are safe inside.” A scarred warrior approached them. “Attempt to flee, and they will die. Return with me and your children will live.”
Unseen by the Wheel Clan, on the right side of the longhouse, Ouis’ small arms made a stabbing gesture to his throat: All inside are dead. All.
The women trailed behind the Wheel Clan warriors, but some—urged on by Gidea—tried to escape. Some to the Wheel Clan fields, some to the hiding places in the Iden storerooms on the right of the longhouse where Ouis stood beckoning. But more Wheel Clan warriors appeared. The women fleeing were immediately overtaken. All but four were captured. Only Ktwala, Janda, Delo, and Maharai would join Ouis inside the secret entrance.
* * * *
Janda and Delo fled to the hidden compartments in the Salt room, the nearest to the secret entrance. Shaking, weeping, Maharai allowed her mother to push her inside the tiny wall of the granary.
“Don’t cry”—Ktwala’s whisper sounded even more distant in the dark room.—“All will be well. We will be well.”
Ouis was hastily hidden in the wall opposite Maharai’s. In the darkness, Ktwala’s hands warned her: Stay here. Keep yourself covered. Don’t leave until I come for you. Don’t worry for me. I’ll find a place to hide. Such animated, desperate gesturings. There were no hiding places nearby, none. Ktwala slipped out of sight, leaving Maharai struggling to stop her frightened panting. Both her breath and her body rebelled against her control. Flushed with fear, she tried to convince herself her mother was safe and determined to wait. Then footsteps approached her hiding place. She tensed. The door in her wall opened and Ouis stood before her, weeping.
“Why didn’t you