“Who spoke?” demanded Guo.
Immediately a warrior advanced forward, her mantle suffused with blue—that particular shade of blue which, among gukuy, connoted not simply anger but the outrage of a superior offended by a subordinate. Guo recognized her at once. She was named Ruako, and she was a high-ranked member of Guo’s own clan.
Good, she thought. The other clans will not think I am playing favorites.
“Do you know her?” asked Woddulakotat softly.
“Not well.”
“I do, for she spent much time in the yurts of the mothers and clan leaders. Ruako is very full of herself. Ambitious and vain. Exactly what you need.”
Guo spoke again, very loudly. “How can there be a trial, Ruako, when the accused are not here to answer the charges?”
The warrior’s blue mantle rippled with orange. Confusion; astonishment.
“What do you mean, Guo? The accused is standing right there!” Ruako pointed with her palp at Kopporu.
“Kopporu?” demanded Guo. “Who has accused Kopporu of anything? I have heard no accusation.”
Ruako emitted that peculiar spitting hoot which, had she been a human instead of a gukuy, would have been called “sputtering.”
“What are you saying? Kopporu accused herself!”
“Ridiculous. Kopporu simply presented the tribe with a recitation of events. All of which lead to an accusation against the clan leaders. Misconduct.” (The Kiktu term which she used carried much heavier connotations than the English word “misconduct”—gross dereliction of duty; criminal incompetence; reckless endangerment of the tribe.)
“Oh, that’s good,” whispered Yurra excitedly. “That’s very good!”
Ruako’s mantle was now positively glowing blue and orange. For a moment, the warrior was speechless. Guo took the opportunity to quickly scan the crowd. She was pleased to see the signs of relaxation everywhere her eyes looked. Like most cultures whose tradition is oral rather than written, the Kiktu took a great delight in debate and discussion. By immediately stepping forward, Guo had taken temporary command of the assembly. Then, by drawing out an opponent and focusing the tribe’s attention, she had brought order and logic to what might have rapidly become a chaotic whirlwind of anger and action. Instead, the members of the tribe were settling back comfortably on their peds. More than one warrior, she noted, was showing faint tints of green in their mantles. Kopporu partisans, perhaps; or simply connoisseurs, enjoying Guo’s display of skill.
“The clan leaders are not murderers!” squalled Ruako.
“How can you say that? That is precisely Kopporu’s charge. Unfortunately, the clan leaders are not here to answer the charge. Hence, as I said, there can be no trial.”
Again, the spitting hoot. “Ridiculous! Ridiculous! Who are the clan leaders accused of murdering?”
Guo paused, hoping another would answer. It was important that she maintain as much appearance of neutrality as possible.
To her relief, Gortoku stepped forward.
“They are accused of murdering—those who are not here.”
Gortoku spread her tentacles, in a gesture encompassing the entire crowd.
“Where is the rest of our tribe?”
Ruako started to speak, but Gortoku’s loud voice overrode her words.
“I ask again: where is the rest of our tribe?”
The answer came at once, from many siphons:
“Dead on the plain!”
“In the bellies of the Utuku!”
“In the Utuku shackles!”
“Just so!” bellowed Gortoku. “And who is responsible for that—Kopporu? Or the clan leaders?”
Silence. Guo waited a moment, then spoke.
“I have permitted this discussion, in order that the tribe might see the truth for itself.” She paused briefly, allowing everyone to take note of the word “permitted.” Then, when she gauged the time right, she took the bundle handed her by Woddulakotat and opened it. She took the Mothershell in her palp and raised it high in the air, where all could see it.
“As we retreated into the swamp, the Great Mother sent this to me, along with her childcluster.” Guo then repeated the Great Mother’s last words.
“The mothers of the tribe”—she gestured to Loapo and Oroku— “have discussed this amongst ourselves, and have agreed to respect the Great Mother’s wishes. I am now the Great Mother of the Kiktu.”
Loapo and Oroku hooted their assent. Very loudly.
Ruako immediately began whistling derision, and uttering various words of scorn. The gist of which was: these are not mothers, they are mere infanta; they cannot make such a momentous decision; children should be seen and not heard; and so forth.