It was therefore with hope as well as respect that he welcomed her and her cohorts into his temporary headquarters. So optimistic was he about the forthcoming encounter that he went so far as to have his own guards forsake the entryway to the house of the village elder where he was presently residing. Following the conference of Hatas, his team of communications and strategy specialists would return to the house to resume transmitting orders and directives to the valiant fighters who were busily engaged in pushing the abhorred Deyzara out of their homes and businesses all across Fluva.
There were suspension chairs out back, overlooking a still-water pond in the midst of the varzea. That was where he waited to greet Sesesthi-toa and her entourage. Food and drink, the best that the village could provide, was hastily brought over. Thus prepared, he settled down to await the arrival of the delegation. He did not have long to wait, nor to wonder what had brought them so far so quickly.
Sesesthi-toa’s tongue did not linger long on his own. After the most cursory of greetings, it retracted into her cheek pouch with an audible snap. It was not quite an insult, but neither did it indicate an extension of affection.
“Hauea, Aniolo-jat. The S’Toa and its friends,” she indicated the important personages who accompanied her, “are here to claim our share.”
“Certainly,” he agreed. Instead of swinging her chair in friendly fashion, the Hata-yuiqueru held it motionless. That was not a good sign. His initial hopes for the visit were growing shadowed. What had begun with promise was rapidly becoming something else. What was worse, he had no idea what had gone wrong.