I began to wish that Soldier’s Boy had not eaten earlier. My belly was uncomfortably distended now. He no longer ate with pleasure. Instead, he watched Dasie and matched her bite for bite. She was slowing; her feeders bent over her, urging her to continue eating. She accepted another bite.
It was only then that I became aware of Olikea’s role. She was showing a substantial portion of food each time she held it to Soldier’s Boy’s mouth, but a good part of it she was palming, making it appear that he was eating a lot more than he actually was. A flush of anger and frustration passed over Dasie’s face, and she abruptly turned away from her feeders. Olikea made a mime of feeding him not just one, but two more mouthfuls of food before she warned Soldier’s Boy, loud enough to be overheard, “I think you should stop for now, Great One. Later, I promise you, I will find more food for you.”
We had won. Soldier’s Boy breathed a soft sigh of relief. His gut ached, but as he looked slowly from Dasie’s sulky countenance to a chastened Jodoli, he knew it had been worth it. He had established himself in the order. He lifted his gaze to Kinrove. His feeder was starting a pipe for him. The Great Man gave no sign he was aware of what had just happened, but Soldier’s Boy was smugly certain that he was. Kinrove spoke.
“We have eaten together, and I trust you took pleasure in my food. Now let us speak to one another, for I would hear what is happening with the People, both far and near. Jodoli has told me of the kin-clan you share, Nevare. His words have saddened me. It is a great loss for us to know that yet more of our ancestor trees have fallen. And yet I savor my triumph as well. Many have spoken against my dance, saying that it costs our people too much. But what cost is too high to pay for keeping our ancestor trees? If the dance stops and the Jhernians flood forward with their iron blades to fell our ancestral groves, what good does it do that we are still alive here?” His hands moved as he asked each question. They spoke as eloquently as his words. “Does the leaf outlive the branch? The dance continues to protect our forest. Without it, I believe that all our ancestors would have been slaughtered by now. Without my dance, by now the Jhernians would be standing right here, and our magic would be lost. The People would be ended. But my great dance makes the fear that holds them at bay. My great dance sends weariness and despair rolling down on them. Against my dance, they have not prevailed and they will not prevail. Only my dance has saved us.”
He smiled down on us, as if inviting us to agree with him. Jodoli nodded slowly, but Dasie only looked at him with narrowed eyes. Soldier’s Boy was very still, waiting and watching. I noticed what he apparently did not; Olikea looked at Kinrove with stark horror. Kinrove looked at Soldier’s Boy, still smiling with his lips, but his eyes were waiting for his response and weighing his value as he did so.
Soldier’s Boy finally spoke. “The intruders are still there, Great One Kinrove. They still intend to cut the trees and to build a road that will bring them to our winter grounds. The Trading Place is full of their goods, and iron is traded without regard for the well-being of our magic. Our own people bring the most dangerous parts of the intruders among us. Simply holding them back will not prevail. I do not speak against your dance, but I do not think it is enough to save us.”
Next to me, Olikea jumped as Dasie suddenly spoke. “The intruder at least speaks the truth! The dance isn’t enough, Kinrove! The dance is not enough to protect us! And at the same time, the dance is too much. It is too much of a price for the People to pay. You sit on your throne and call yourself the Greatest of the Great! You smile and say you have saved us, that our trees still stand, as if we should forget the ones who have fallen. As if we should forget those who dance and dance and dance to work your magic. Six years ago, before the magic touched me and I became a Great One, do you know what I was, Kinrove? I was a child weeping for my kin-clan. For that was the year that you sent the magic on us, sent it on your own people, to command those that it touched to come and be part of your dance. Sixteen of my kin-clan came to answer your call. Sixteen: two old men, nine young women, four young men, and one boy. That boy was my brother, just a year older than I was.”
She paused as if waiting for him to deny it. Kinrove just looked down at her quietly. His words, when they came, were without mercy. “Every kin-clan has sent dancers. Your kin-clan has not contributed in any greater way than any other. We must have dancers for the dance.”
“How many of those taken from my clan six years ago still live? How many still dance for you?” She paused, but did not really give him a chance to respond. Soldier’s Boy was listening intently. I shared his focus; I sensed we were close to the heart of a mystery. Olikea had been standing behind him, her hands resting possessively on his shoulders. At Dasie’s words, her fingers had slowly closed until she gripped his robe with knotted fists. He could hear her tension in her breathing and feel it in her stance. What was this?