Dream of a City of Ruin: Dreams of QaiMaj Book II

Chapter 20: The Eve of Battle: Hakua

Hakua sat by his fire, watching the man sitting across from him with a steady gaze. Glace wore a circle of spiky, rusted metal on his broad forehead. One of Hakua's brothers had reported that the pale man's people had made him their chief last night. That was good. Hakua had been aware of the tensions between Glace's people, and a chiefless tribe of that size could become dangerously unstable, especially in a confined place like Peace Street. He was relieved that they had chosen Glace. He liked the pale man; he could communicate with him more clearly than he could with the others of his tribe. But that did not mean that they always saw eye to eye.

Hakua broke his staring match and cast a long gaze at his beautiful wife. Kaliri stirred the stew in her boiling bag and stoked up the fire, apparently oblivious to the tension hovering over the fire. She was growing heavy with his first son, but she still moved with the seamless grace of a doal. Not for the first time, he thanked the greatfathers for sparing her life when the Dhuciri swept up the entire tribe of Liathua Khell.

"I have no desire to usurp your rightful place as chief of your people," the pale man said. Hakua looked away from Kaliri and returned his steady, decided gaze to Glace. "But I am a sort of chief, now, of my people, and I cannot follow you. I've come to ask you to lead your people beside mine. We can coordinate our attack together."

Hakua dropped his gaze to the flames, thinking. It was not unheard of, this thing. Lubar and his uncles had told him of two tribes joining, but not merging, to attack a third.

He looked at Kaliri again. Her belly curved delicately under her soft, white tunic. Her wrists and ankles were bone thin. He could feel her ribs above her swollen belly when he caressed her at night.

When they had arrived in the city, many of the women had been captured by Mast's men. Some of those captured returned to their husbands in the dead of night to report on Mast's activities. When the remaining women had seen how well they were fed, many of them had taken their children and gone to Mast, trading their freedom and their identity as Khell for food. But Kaliri had remained, even though they'd starved for days until Hakua had convinced the Khell warriors to take a blood oath to risk their lives in the fields every night. His proud, beautiful wife had not complained once.

"One of us will have to lead the attack," Glace continued. "I know you are a renowned warrior, Hakua. But we are up against a larger enemy, and one that will face us with coordinated strength. There can be no opportunity for doubt, confusion, or hesitation, if we are to stand a chance against Mast's men."

By which the pale man meant, he would take charge of the attack. Why did he not simply state the truth? Hakua lifted his eyes to meet the man's unnerving blue ones again.

"I am not a fool, Chief of Pale Ones," Hakua said. "I know what you are asking."

"It's just for the battle," Glace spoke in soothing tones. "Once we are victorious . . ."

"What then?" Hakua stabbed at the coals with the butt of his spear. "Peace Street is small. Not big enough for two tribes, side by side. Two chiefs will confuse everyone. Who will get the first choice at kills? Who will decide when we ride, and when we camp?" Hakua knew that those things scarcely mattered in the nightmare land the Dhuciri had dropped them into, but he did not have the words to express what he meant in their shared language.

During the summer in Khell, when many different tribes gathered on Pebble Beach, tensions between the tribes were mitigated by the council of many Chiefs. It helped that food was plentiful; there were always enough boareal, seaweed and shells to go around. When conflict arose that the Chiefs could not agree on, it was settled in a fight, and the larger tribe with the strongest warriors would win. As Glace had been gathering more and more of his own people to Hakua's stronghold, their fighting might was nearly even. Not all of Glace's people were fighters, but those who were already knew how to use his metal weapons. In skirmishes, the warriors responded with a coordination that made it seem as if the many were one, compared to the way Hakua's warriors fought independently. Several days ago, Hakua could have subjugated Glace and his followers easily. Now, he was not certain.