“What about our culture? What will become of the Sakuntala?” another chief asked, almost plaintively.
“We will keep that which makes us what we are.” Aniolo-jat spoke with conviction. “We will take what we wish from Commonwealth. But to do so we must make sure Deyzara are kept down. They must agree to set of demands. Foremost important, they must agree to limit their breeding. Fluva must stay forever in dominion of the Sakuntala.” A loud chorus of “Hauea!” underlined this declamation. This time, Naneci-tok noted, the response was nearly universal.
“We must do this without bring Commonwealth retribution down on us. Especially on us personally.” His ears flicked out to the sides in an expression of knowingness. “And as you know, we now have friends who have agree to help us.”
No one would disagree with the Yuiqueru’s evaluation, she knew. There was too much potential individual wealth at stake. Among the Sakuntala themselves, alliances and treaties and declarations were always shifting. To get the people to do anything in concert was historically difficult. In that, she knew, lay perhaps the more formidable weapon possessed by the Deyzara. The trunked ones knew that the Sakuntala were as likely to fight one another as they were to do battle with any outsiders.
Aniolo-jat seemed to have it all figured out. Of course, if even a few of the Deyzara decided to fight back, using those same Commonwealth weapons that had been spoken of so admiringly, then Sakuntala also would die. And if some of the humans chose to aid their embattled Deyzara associates, that would mean more death still. But death in combat was no stranger to the Sakuntala. It was part of their culture—far more so than it was of the Deyzara’s.