The People of the Black Sun Read Free Page A

yourself.”
    He boldly stepped in front of her.
    Jigonsaseh tiredly braced her feet. “I am Jigonsaseh, Village Matron of Yellowtail Village, and a friend to Chief Cord. I request a meeting with him, if he is not too tired.”
    At the sound of her deep voice, Cord instantly rose and walked toward her, his long legs stretching out, covering the distance in mere heartbeats.
    She called, “May I speak with you?”
    â€œOf course. Let her pass, Deputy War Chief,” he ordered.
    The sentry leaped to obey, and Jigonsaseh walked to meet Cord. They stood eye-to-eye for what seemed like an eternity.
    â€¦ reflections off snow dancing over his tattooed face … the strength in his dark eyes enough to convince me we could achieve anything … slim rations eaten at the same fire … his closeness a physical torment …
    Cord said, “Will you join me?”
    â€œI would, thank you.”
    As she neared the fire, the other warriors rose and bowed to her.
    Cord said, “That will be all for tonight. We will reconvene tomorrow morning when War Chief Baji is better.”
    Men wandered away, muttering to one another, casting glances over their shoulders at Jigonsaseh.
    â€œBaji is hurt?”
    â€œNothing dramatic. Her left arm is swollen. A glancing blow from a war club.”
    Jigonsaseh relaxed a little. She’d known Baji since she was a girl of barely twelve summers. The tie between them went beyond clans or nations. “Please tell her I am concerned about her.”
    â€œI will.”
    Cord gestured to the log where he’d been sitting. “Please, sit. May I dip you a cup of tea?”
    â€œNo, but I thank you for the offer.”
    She lowered herself to the log, pulled CorpseEye from her belt, and rested him across her lap. Unconsciously her hands smoothed the well-oiled wooden shaft. The club had been in her family for generations, passed from warrior to warrior. He had an ancient presence, like a great old war chief who has seen too much, and longs only to rest until the next battle begins. The carvings on the shaft added to his presence. The antlered wolves seemed to be trotting after the winged tortoises, who were in turn being hunted by prancing buffalo. The red quartzite cobble tied to the club’s head glinted in the firelight. It had two black spots that resembled staring eyes. She had no idea how much blood the club had absorbed over the long summers, but more than she could imagine.
    Cord sat beside her, four hands away, and shifted to face her. His black roach glittered with firelight.
    She began, “I don’t know what to say to you.”
    He smiled. “Then tell me what you think of this strange alliance between the Flint, Hills, and Standing Stone nations. Will it last?”
    â€œIt must,” she said firmly. “For all our sakes. I plan to work very hard to assure that it does.”
    She looked at the superb snake tattoos in the frame of his oval face and noticed for the first time how deeply the lines cut his forehead. Others ran down his cheeks like careless chisel scratches, broken only by the prominent knife scar that slashed across his square jaw. When she lifted her gaze, his mouth tightened slightly. While she’d been studying his face, his gaze had been locked on her eyes, probably assessing the emotions he saw there.
    Very softly, he asked, “Are you well? I know this was a terrible day for the Standing Stone nation. You lost so many.”
    She jerked a nod. “Ninety percent of our army.”
    â€œHow many trained warriors do you have left?”
    â€œWe will count tomorrow, but my guess is around three hundred. Plus another forty-one warriors from Atotarho’s army that joined our side this afternoon, including War Chief Sindak.”
    His face slackened. “Three hundred out of how many?”
    â€œWhen the morning began, we had over three thousand.”
    He seemed to be holding his