“What an idiot!” whispered Yurra.
“She’s perfect,” agreed Woddalukotat.
And, indeed, it was so. Many others in the crowd might have, privately, held similar views. But the manner in which Ruako had expressed them settled the issue. The authority of mothers in Kiktu society was more often honored in the breach, rather than in the observance. But it was always honored. The more so, in this instance, in that the infanta so ridiculed had played a glorious role in the battle just passed. Much more glorious—as more than one warrior noted, and loudly—than had Ruako. (And more than one warrior, as well, loudly contrasted the terrible wounds borne by Oroku to the scratches on Ruako’s hide.)
Ruako was not so stupid as not to realize, quickly, that she had blundered badly. She attempted now to shift the question on to the general impropriety of the entire manner in which the assembly was being held. This was done through a hurried appeal to Kiktu prejudices.
“Outrage! Bad enough that Opoktu should be allowed at our tribal assembly! Even worse—clanless outcasts have been brought into our midst!”
For the first time since she finished her opening presentation, Kopporu spoke.
“It is not against custom for honored members of an allied tribe to be present at Kiktu assemblies.” Then, very loudly: “Or does Ruako now wish to slander the valiant Opoktu as well as our own battlemothers?”
By this time, more and more members of the tribe were enjoying the spectacle of Ruako’s embarrassment. Like most arrogant people of high status, Ruako had made many enemies among the Kiktu. And even those who had nothing against her personally were becoming irritated at her conduct.
Again, loud voices were heard. Contrasting the glorious feats of many Opoktu in the recent battle to the modest role played by Ruako. Comparing, in puzzled tones, the great wounds which were clearly visible on many Opoktu to the—(Did she fall into a topobush, do you think? Is that where she got those two little scratches?)—almost unblemished mantle of Ruako.
Kopporu spoke again.
“As for the swamp dwellers, they are here on a matter which concerns my clan. And the tribe. I will explain when we have finished with the question before us.”
She stepped back.
“Now,” said Woddulakotat. “Yes,” added Yurra.
For just a moment, Guo feared that ochre or pink might enter her mantle. Disaster. She brought the image of her slaughtered people to her mind.
Her mantle flooded black. She rose up slightly, and bellowed:
“I invoke the Motherlaw!”
Utter silence. Utter stillness.
In part, of course, the reaction of the tribe was due to simple, physical shock. The voice of a mother, unleashed in all its power, bears a close resemblance to thunder.
But, to a greater degree, the shock was mental. Motherlaw had not been invoked among the Kiktu in living memory. No, more—not for many, many generations. Guo could practically see the thoughts racing through the minds of every warrior in the clearing, as they searched back through the history of the tribe.
They found the answer almost at once, as Iyopa had predicted. It was, after all, one of the most famous episodes in Kiktu history. That time, long ago, when the Kiktu were still a small tribe. Reeling from defeat at the palps of the (now vanished) Laukta. Most of their clan leaders and mothers dead; half of the warriors wounded, dead, or dying; the ones who survived having done so only because of the incredible ferocity of the rear guard which had covered their retreat. At the center of that rear guard had stood a young infanta; who, after the battle, had declared herself the new Great Mother and had seized command of the tribe through invoking the ancient ritual of Motherlaw. She had maintained the Motherlaw for many, many, many eightweeks. Until the Kiktu recovered, and took their terrible revenge on the Laukta.
Her name had been Dodotpi. She was revered in the history of the Kiktu. Partly, of course, because she had saved the tribe. But partly, as well, because the Kiktu were warriors, and Dodotpi had been the greatest battlemother who ever walked the Meat of the Clam.