Behind her, flames crackled, eating through the latticework of kindling sticks, and bigger branches were stacked on the fire to let it blaze. Feather Cloak took her place within the aura of light as the council gathered in a ring, facing the light.

“Speak,” said Feather Cloak. “Let me hear your words.”

“Let us take them as an offering and be done with it,” said the blood knives.

“No,” said Feather Cloak. “It is foolish to throw away such a powerful weapon.”

“How can this spell he speaks of be used as a weapon?” asked the blood knives.

“Why fight at all?” asked Eldest Uncle. “If humankind is so weakened, it is best to parley. We can rebuild if we are at peace. We cannot rebuild if we are at war.”

Zuangua smirked, regarding his twin. Old rivalry existed between the siblings, twined together with long affection. “You have forgotten, Brother, that most of our people are those who were caught in shadow, betwixt and between. For us the war is yesterday, not three or four generations ago. For us, there can be no peace!”

“War is better.” Fox Mask’s statement ran like an echo back through those assembled. Only in the trees behind Secha was there silence, where waited her mate and her son and her infant daughters.

“War,” said the others.

“War!” they cried.

She looked toward the fence, feeling that they were being watched. Indeed, the man with sun hair had walked without fear up to the rock wall. He stood there, listening and watching and able, most likely, to understand the meat of the debate without understanding the skin that was its surface of words. Secha admired him for his exotic beauty, but also for a self-possession untroubled by any ripple of uncertainty. It meant a lot to hold firm in the face of the unknown.

For this reason, she knew she must speak, as was her right.

“Listen,” she said. “I have something to say. Why should we trust this golden one? He means to betray his own kind. Why not betray us in turn? He is brave and bold, it is true. Is he brave and bold enough to pretend to be our ally while leading us into death?”

“It’s true that all he claims to want is that woman,” said Feather Cloak. She did not bother to hide her disgust. “It doesn’t seem like much.”

” ‘That’ woman is a great deal,” said Eldest Uncle. “She will be hard to defeat, and difficult to capture and hold.”

“But a fine armful to hold, so they say!” said Zuangua with a laugh.

Feather Cloak pulled a mighty grimace. Her indignation made her young uncle laugh again.

“Jealousy is a sharp spear,” Zuangua retorted, and Secha supposed it was so. He was cleverer than he acted, that one.

“I am not jealous!”

“You may not be, if you say so, but the Pale Sun Dog is. He is jealous of your son for having what he wants for himself.”