Smoke from the central hearth hung thick within the council house, mingling with the odor of burnt tobacco on its way to flowing out through the chimney-hole in the bark ceiling. Hokolesqua, High Sachem of the Shaawanaki, had all his council seated on log benches around the fire while he presided over them from his oak-stump throne. Opposite him across the hearth stood the young scout whose report had prompted the meeting to begin with, while servant girls went around distributing bowls of berries and meat to the councilmen.
After taking a bite out of some blueberries, Hokolesqua was first to speak. “Everyone, I have gathered you all here to listen to what this young man has to say, for he and his party have been out watching the Inu’naabe. So, scout, what have you seen in the Inu’naabe lands that you must tell us?”
The scout cleared his throat, with sweat beading his brow. “The Inu’naabe have invited strangers among them. But these are not like any men we have seen before. Their skin is burnt dark, some almost black, and they wear metal helmets and clothes of strange material. They even have weapons of metal too, spears as well as knives!”
Hokolesqua clutched the copper crow pendant that hung from his necklace. “How did they interact with the Inu’naabe when you saw them?”
“The Inu’naabe were letting the strangers into their village, giving them food. I believe they are courting an alliance with them.”
“An alliance with men with metal spears and knives?” one of the councilmen asked. “That cannot be good.”
“Maybe so, maybe not,” another said. “We do not know whether they can trust those strangers, or what the strangers want in the first place. Who would they be, anyway?”
“We should keep an eye on them, regardless,” a third councilor said. “If they become friends with the Inu’naabe, together, they could present a major threat to us.”
“Then perhaps we should not attack them at all?” a fourth suggested. “The Inu’naabe have irritated us before, yes, but we can always choose to leave them alone.”
“Then where will we find blood for the sun?” the first councilman replied. “We cannot let it starve, lest it no longer rise!”
Hokolesqua banged the floor with his spear-staff. “He speaks the truth! We must keep the sun fed for as long as it soars over the earth. And what pleases the sun more than the blood of men? Furthermore, the Inu’naabe have defied and harried us long enough. We cannot relent no matter how powerful their new allies might be!”
“So how do you propose we fight men with metal weapons?” the fourth councilor said. “It would take ages to make such weapons for all our own warriors, and copper is not easy to come by. And who knows what other capabilities these strangers have?”
“We don’t have to attack them now. We can wait. We’ll watch the relationship between them and the Inu’naabe develop over time, perhaps a few months or even until next summer. If our enemies and the strangers grow closer together, then we attack!” Hokolesqua pounded his fist into his palm for emphasis.
Once he had the meeting concluded, he exited his council house to stand on the lip of the high earthen mound which supported it. From this elevated vantage, he could see the entire breadth of his capital, with its clusters of bark longhouses divided by dirt streets in the vast space within its wooden ramparts. Toward the north rose the mounds wherein Hokolesqua’s ancestors lay entombed, going back innumerable generations. Largest of these would have been the one he had built for his uncle Wasabogoa, High Sachem of the Shaawanaki before him.
If only Wasabogoa could see what his nephew had accomplished over the five summers since his ascent! No other High Sachem had stuffed the granaries and storehouses with food and wealth like Hokolesqua had, even if much of it had come through plunder and tribute. Neither had any other High Sachem kept the sun’s stomach so full of enemy blood, to the point where the sun temple’s steps had turned dark red forever.
And yet, like his uncle and all their predecessors, he could never pinch out the thorn in their side that had been the Inu’naabe. That would end someday. Before it was his time to pass onto the next world, Hokolesqua would have those forest-dwelling troublemakers under his heel, their blood drenching the sun temple’s altar. And he would let neither they nor these new burnt-skinned friends of theirs stand in his way forever.
This Hokolesqua swore by the white flames of the sun overhead.