Lemmi had left Mazeppa's tipi to use the trench, then "meditate a while" atop the low knoll nearby. It was the ploy he used for privacy, for his reports to Luis, Carlos and Tahmm. And Freddy in Moleen, so he'd be up to date if needed. Circumstances permitting, they conferred each evening.
He settled bare-legged onto the ground, wearing only a breech-clout, ignoring the bunch-grass humps and harsh stems. He'd gotten used to them. Switching on his com, he murmured instructions, then waited. Tahmm, still at his desk, was the first to respond. The others took a moment longer. When they'd all checked on, Lemmi began.
"Mazeppa's been in a strange mood lately," he told them, "and today he left the village with three of his 'close' men. Not hunting—he'd have invited me. They took remounts but no packhorses, like men in a hurry. I was sitting with the pastor in front of his tipi, getting instructed in "the web of life," when they passed a little way off, and I wondered out loud where they were going.
"Morosov said he didn't know, but it might have to do with one of the four, a man named Andre, of the Elk band. I'd met him earlier. Now Morosov described how Andre helped unite the Ulster with the Dkota. It was Mazeppa who'd lavished the Ulster with admiration, but Andre did the actual negotiating. Morosov called him the most persuasive man he'd ever known.
"Then he told me an interesting story. In early spring, Mazeppa had sent Andre off on some kind of mission—no one knew what—with two other men including another convincing talker, an Ulster warrior named Conrad, Gallagher's permanent envoy to Mazeppa. So 'in the time of mud, when the willow buds open,' as Morosov put it, these two, along with a famous scout, rode off westward with five pack horses and several remounts. Obviously they expected to travel a long way. But without lodgepoles, which meant minimal camps, and long days in the saddle."
Lemmi paused, giving the others a chance to ask questions. When they didn't, he proceeded.
"I'd met Andre right after he'd gotten back, apparently. He and Mazeppa had ridden off alone together, presumably to talk, but it didn't mean anything to me. Now I asked Morosov, and he just shook his head. The Dkota take a dim view of lying, but withholding is all right, and that's what Morosov was doing: withholding. Presumably Mazeppa has something he doesn't want known, or at least not talked about. But Morosov knows what it is, or thinks he does, and he's not telling."
"What do you think it is?" Luis asked.
Lemmi answered thoughtfully. "To the buffalo people, the buffalo are more than food. They're sacred, put here by God to sustain the buffalo people, who are 'to dwell in harmony with them, treating them with respect and reverence.' That's basic to their whole life. Before they go off hunting, for buffalo or anything else, they pray to God and whatever they plan to hunt, asking their help in obtaining food. Promising respect and gratitude. That holds for deer, wild plums, or water potatoes . . . but the emotion felt for the buffalo is way greater."
He paused, then spoke thoughtfully. "We know, and the tribes know, what happened, or almost happened to the original buffalo. My guess is that last spring, Mazeppa sent Andre and Conrad off with the tale of a dirt-eater plan to invade the Sea of Grass. To destroy the buffalo and subjugate the tribes. And Andre was to ask some other tribe or tribes to join in a preemptive attack on the neighboring dirt-eaters. The Sotans.
"To the Dkota at least, to destroy the buffalo would do more than wipe out their main food supply. It would be the worst kind of sacrilege. And one of the things I've learned from Morosov is there are two other northern buffalo tribes the Dkota consider potent: the Yellow Bears and the Wolves. And if their essential beliefs are like the Dkota's, Mazeppa would have a powerful argument, even though it's false."
"Hmm." It was Luis again. "And Mazeppa's new mood began after he talked to Andre?"
"Right. He's hung between eager and impatient now.
"If I'm right, this means more than a larger army for the Sotans to deal with. It means we have a lot less time than we thought. Because these people, for sure the Dkota, aren't much for long-range planning. Their lives are a response to nature—the weather, the grass, the buffalo . . . Most Dkota bands don't even garden a lot: some tobacco, some squash, some corn for flat bread . . . and medicinal herbs; that's about it. They might think a few years in advance, but to depend on tribes a few hundred miles west to join the invasion? If Mazeppa has an agreement with them, he'll want to do it this summer. Before something comes up to distract them, change their minds.
"And suppose the Yellow Bear warriors agree to join the invasion. When they show up and tribes camp near one another, there's a risk of insults or slights, and fighting, and Mazeppa can't help having that on his mind. So he won't want large numbers of outsiders living close to his people any longer than necessary. He'll make his move right away." Lemmi paused. "Assuming that's what's going on. I could be wrong, but I doubt it.
"It could even be—could very well be—that he and Andre rode off today because parties of these new allies have shown up in Ulster territory."
There was a moment of silence, then Luis spoke again. "Have you heard anyone there talk about this?"
"No one. Morosov's uncomfortable with the prospect of invading Sota. He intends to go along himself, but he's got misgivings. Something has him worried. He may realize at some level that the Sotans couldn't destroy the buffalo if they wanted to. In pre-Armageddon times, it was railroads, repeating rifles, and big industrial markets for leather that made it possible.
"And on a cultural level, a couple of days ago I overheard a deacon complain that Mazeppa takes too much authority on himself. Basically that he rules instead of presiding.
"So I believe Mazeppa intends to make war this summer, not next. The Dkota make their serious buffalo hunt in what they call 'the rutting moon,' call it October, putting down lots of meat for winter. So they'd have to get back home before then. No problem for the Dkota and Ulster, maybe, but the Yellow Bears and Wolves have a lot longer ride home."
"Any chance the council might veto Mazeppa's plans?" Freddy asked.
"There are no vetoes," Lemmi replied. "These people are as dedicated to free choice as the olden-time Dakotah. If the young men want to make war against the dirt-eaters, they can, regardless of the council. All they have to do is name someone their war chief, and go do it. And Mazeppa's their man; he has a lot of admirers. If the council disapproved, there might be fewer volunteers, but with defending the buffalo as the issue, I expect even the older warriors will go."
Briefly, Lemmi and Luis talked about their next steps. Tahmm was leaving the decisions to them. They were indigenes, he'd seen them in action during the Lizard War, and he'd supervised their education and training at the Academy. Lemmi'd been one of his best students, and Luis had what might be the strongest warrior muse he'd ever seen. So when they finished their discussion, that ended the conference.
(Luis)
I'd been staying in a small cheap room in Hasty. When Lemmi disconnected, I told Carlos I was coming out to the brother house. Then I stowed my things in my saddlebags, told my landlord I was leaving, went to the stable where I boarded my horse, and rode out of town at a trot. Twenty minutes later I was at the brother house, where I went to Carlos's office.
"So you've got a lot to do and not much time, eh?" he said grinning.
"That's how it looks. How's Stephen coming along? There's something I need him to do for me."
"He's doing very well, actually. Says he doesn't need that sing anymore. Peng took care of his problem, and in the process his self-confidence burgeoned. He's way more mature than most novices are at first. More than I was." He raised an eyebrow. "What've you got in mind?"
"I want to send him on a mission to Big Pines, to his own people. He's green, but he's the only one here suited for it. I'd like him to leave early tomorrow, to talk to the chief and elders for me; set them up for me. What do you think?"
"It'll be good for him," Carlos said. "He'll be on his home ground, dealing with people he knows, within rules he knows. The processes Peng ran on him didn't turn up any hostility toward his people or his culture. He left home because his life goal is growth, and he needed to expand his experience." Carlos laughed. "He's certainly been doing that."
"Good. I'll get him back to you eventually, whenever that is. Meanwhile I have a lot of dukes to talk to, and I might as well start at Soggo. See whether the duke there is willing to send his militias out of the duchy. And Soggo's halfway to Big Pines, so afterward I'll go on north and see how Stephen's done."
The next day after breakfast, Peng sent Stephen to meet me in the small briefing room. I told him what I wanted, and he said he wasn't sure how much he could accomplish. The Sancroy Dinneh felt little connection with Sota's government or king, and hadn't even heard of the Dkota. I wasn't surprised. Big Pines was on the fringe of the northern wilderness, a long way from Dkota, and it was the baron in Sancroy who collected the taxes.
I told him if it didn't work, it didn't work, but if it did, it could help a lot.
After we'd discussed how he might approach the task, I told him to pack his gear and hit the trail, with a remount but no pack horse. Then I talked briefly with Donald, so he wouldn't think I'd forgotten him, stopped at Sugar Grove to ask Pastor Linkon some questions, and headed for Soggo, pushing my horses.
I didn't doubt for a minute that Lemmi was right, and that we needed to move fast.
I ate in the saddle. Deep dusk, which comes late in that season, caught me at a crossroads village called Los Abeduls, a good hour short of Soggo. Pastor Linkon had recommended the hospitality of the Williamite pastor at Abeduls, and I tested it. It was his bedtime, but Pastor Pontedaro took time to tell me about the duchy and its two rulers—the duke and the bishop—while I supped on bread, cheese, buttermilk, and warmed-over rhubarb cobbler, followed by wild plum brandy. After a visit to the privy, I went to the guest room, laid my com by the head of my cot, and went to bed feeling optimistic. Lemmi hadn't reported yet, but he'd been late before, and he was too sharp to get in serious trouble.
Lemmi stepped outside to look at the sky. The last faint wash of twilight was fading in the northwest. Time to report, he told himself.
It was then Mazeppa rode up to the tipi. After he and Lemmi had removed saddles and gear, Mazeppa, with a word, started the horses trotting off to the herd on their own. The two men carried Mazeppa's things into the tipi, then sat down on the men's side. Consuela and Trains Horses began to prepare a late meal for their husband.
Mazeppa's strong face looked even more stoic than usual, but his aura had expanded, full of power. For several minutes, neither man spoke. It was Mazeppa who broke the silence. "My son," he said, "I have important things to tell you."
"Yes, my father?"
"I have spoken with Conrad's eldest daughter. She is a good-looking woman of sixteen years, called Iris because of her eye color. Her mother is Clear Voice of the Branched Horn Ulster. For a time, Conrad lived among us as Gallagher's envoy. Now he will return to us with his wife and six children.
"Both he and his wife are tall and strong. And unlike myself, prolific. For all my strength and two good wives, my loins have given me no sons. This is the means God has used to humble me. But my spirit will have many children by my son-of-choice. Thus the family of Mazeppa will be great in numbers and strength, and all the world will respect it." He crossed himself, something the Dkota reserved for profound matters.
Now, briefly, his eyes found Lemmi's. "What do you think of that?" he asked.
Lemmi met his gaze. "I am proud that my father thinks of me in this way. God's will be done."
Mazeppa nodded. Taking his small pipe from its rack, he packed it with tobacco and lit it with a coal from the fire, then held it upward, offering the first smoke to God. Next he offered it to the cardinal directions, then to the lodge spirit, and finally to Lemmi, who inhaled a single puff, held it, then let it drift thinly from his parted lips before returning the pipe to his father-by-choice. Again Mazeppa inhaled the pungent smoke.
"I have other news," he said. "I have been to Painted Rock. Gallagher had sent for me." He paused, drawing again on his pipe, as if reexamining his news, deciding how to tell it. "In the time of mud," he said at last, "when the red shoulders had arrived from the south on glossy black wings and the catkin buds were opening on the willows, I sent Andre and Conrad far west and north to the Yellow Bear people. Whose great chief, Goyuk, is famous for his ferocity in defense of his people's hunting grounds. Goyuk and his council listened carefully, consulted, then fasted, prayed, sweated, consulted further, then prayed and sweated more. Seeking the proper decision." He chuckled. "Andre wondered if they would seek till summer. Finally Goyuk pledged to the Sun and the Moon and the Buffalo that he would join the Dkota and Ulster, to prevent the dirt-eaters from destroying the buffalo. He would urge all his fighting men to ride with him, except the older, who would stay behind to protect the villages and women, and to hunt.
"When finally Andre and Conrad left the Yellow Bear people, they traveled south to the Wolf people, where much the same things were done. Taking even longer, till finally the Wolves too pledged themselves. Like the Yellow Bears, they would start for the tall-grass country when the horseflies appeared."
Briefly his eyes found Lemmi's again. "One cannot be sure of such things until they happen. When Andre and Conrad left them, people, especially the women and old men, would remember the arguments against the agreement. Sota is far away. Lesser tribes might learn of the warriors departing, and perhaps take advantage.
"And who could foretell whether, when finally the horseflies appeared, only a few tens of young men would take the warpath. Perhaps a hundred or two.
"I had no way to know. The horseflies have troubled our horses here for weeks, but I had heard nothing of any Wolves or Yellow Bears."
Mazeppa's back had been straight. Now it seemed even straighter. "Recently Gallagher sent a young man to the Big Ford of the Muddy, to watch. He had with him two strong horses. At last he saw warriors ride down to the water on the other side, and he met their scouts. They were Yellow Bears. So he rode hard all the way to Painted Rock, bareback for speed, and without stopping to sleep. He rode one horse to death. When he got to Painted Rock, Gallagher sent another rider on to me.
"When I reached Painted Rock, Yellow Bear scouts had already arrived. A thousand Yellow Bear warriors are on their way to join us! From there, guides will lead them to the village of the White Bull band, where they will camp till it is time."
"When will that time be?" Lemmi asked.
Mazeppa's lips thinned. "When the Wolves arrive. Or when I decide not to wait longer. It will be soon."
Mazeppa ate then, Lemmi keeping him company with a strip of flank steak. Afterward the young Higuchian left the tipi, going first to the latrine trench, then onto the knoll "to meditate and pray." Luis needed to hear about this immediately.