Mother of Demons by Eric Flint

The entire multitude stared at Guo, and remembered the Battle of the Clearing; and wondered: Or was she?

Motherlaw. A custom whose origins vanished somewhere back in the mists of time. Almost never invoked. Great Mothers were deeply respected among the Kiktu, and even enjoyed a definite authority. (Quite unlike, in this respect, the semi-divine Paramount Mothers of the south, whose actual power was nil.) But it was still the clan leaders who ruled, except in battle, where the battle leaders came to the fore.

Motherlaw was not precisely “mother-rule.” On the few occasions when Motherlaw had been invoked in the past, the Great Mothers had always appointed leaders from the ranks of the warriors to actually exercise the power. But their authority derived solely from the Great Mother, and could be withdrawn by her. And the Great Mother served as the final arbiter of law and custom. Judge; jury—and executioner.

Ruako broke the silence. She began squawling semi-coherent phrases, all of which indicated her vast displeasure and disagreement with Guo’s person and behavior.

“Fork her,” commanded Guo.

Immediately, her eight flankers charged across the clearing. As they approached, Ruako suddenly fell silent. Turned scarlet; and tried to flee. But the flankers were upon her. No less than four greatforks slammed into Ruako’s mantle. It was the work of but moments to drag the whistling warrior back across the clearing. The work of but seconds to flip Ruako onto her back. (An unnecessary flourish, of course. The mace which now crushed the life out of Ruako’s body would have done so regardless of which way the warrior was positioned. In truth, it would have splintered a boulder.)

Guo allowed the multitude to gaze upon Ruako’s corpse for a brief moment, before speaking.

“Does the tribe remember our Great Mother’s last words to me?”

Silence.

“Answer me!”

Several voices: ” `Be ruthless toward all folly.’ ”

“Louder.”

“BE RUTHLESS TOWARD ALL FOLLY.”

“Just so.”

Guo made the gesture of condemnation. Her mantle glowed blue.

“If the clan leaders had survived, their stinking corpses would now be lying next to Ruako’s. They are condemned in the memory of the tribe.”

She turned and faced Kopporu. “Kopporu!”

“Yes, Great Mother.”

“You are now the battle leader of the Kiktu.”

“Yes, Great Mother. Who do you appoint as the new clan leaders?”

“No one. We do not need clan leaders. We are still in battle—and will be, until the Utuku are destroyed.”

She paused, letting that thought penetrate the minds of her warriors. The formula was that proposed by Iyopa—the same, he said, as that adopted by Dodotpi so long ago.

“There will be no new clan leaders chosen until the Utuku are crushed and our tribe is avenged. Until that time, the Kiktu are an army. Each warrior will answer to her battle leader—and to her alone. Regardless of clan. The battle leaders will answer to Kopporu—and to her alone. Regardless of clan.”

She paused, allowing the tribe to digest the concept.

“Do you understand?”

There was no hesitation this time in the response, which came from many, many siphons.

Like myself, thought Guo, the warriors have grown weary of clan leaders.

Kopporu spoke.

“Great Mother, I have a difficulty.”

“What is that?”

Kopporu gestured to the swamp dwellers. “The survival of the tribe depends upon these—brave people. They have already aided us beyond measure, as all here know. Many of them have died in so doing. In return, they have asked for no reward except—adoption into my clan. I have promised to speak for them. But—”

Guo finished the thought. “But you cannot adopt them without the permission of the clan leader. Who does not exist. And will not, for—some time.”

For ever, came the sudden, shocking thought. A tribe without clan leaders? Forever?

I must think upon that. Perhaps—back to the moment, fool! What am I to do?

“Put them in the battle groups,” whispered Woddulakotat.

“Make one of them an adviser,” said Yurra quietly. “And don’t forget the Opoktu either.”

“And the refugees,” added Woddulakotat.

Guo pondered their advice for a moment, sorting it out. It made sense, she thought.

“Do the swamp dw—do these brave people have a leader?”

“Yes,” replied Kopporu. She pointed to O-doddo-ua, and told Guo her name.