Kengetar nodded and exited through the flap. Outside, there were still dying flutters of activity as camp preparations ceased. The village had been completely transformed. About the burned out husks of wooden dwellings, tents had sprung up like fungus around carcasses. Eventually Kengetar found the large tent where his people had been herded into. He recognized it for being the one with guards posted at each corner. It was high, long, and brown. Inside, his people were huddled together in darkness. As he entered, people looked up at him with gaping mouths, amazed to see him enter cleaned and dressed in finery.

As Kengetar stepped his way through the crowd, looking for the chief, he saw that people were already organized in a circle in the center, having a hushed conversation in the Sedent dialect. [i]Good,[/i] Kengetar thought. [i]A Council's already started. This makes it simpler.[/i] He stepped into the circle and sat down as astonished onlookers cleared him a space. The chief, dignified in his many tattoos and immaculate topknot, carefully regarded Kengetar before speaking.

"Kengetar," he said slowly. "We thought you had been killed. And when we were all unshackled and brought into this tent, well, we feared the worst. But you seem to have been at some venture. Tell us your tale, for everything learned may help us reach a decision."

"I was not dead, merely wounded during the assault," said Kengetar, trying to control his emotions. Displaying emotion at a Council meeting was a faux pas. "When I awoke, I was put to labor on certain meaningless tasks until I could barely stand. After this was done, I learned that I had been selected by their leader, a woman, no older than me, and brought to her tent." As Kengetar spoke, a woman who had managed to smuggle a comb was straightening out his tangled hair. He took a breath before speaking again.

"She told me that she needed me for her plot of revenge in some familial feud. I did not understand the specifics of it all. She promised me wealth and the freedom of the Sedent tribe in exchange for cooperation. I was bathed, fed and clothed, and sent here."

The chief interrupted before Kengetar could launch into the next part of his speech. "But why can she not seek revenge herself? Why pick you, and why make these promises and give you such treatment?" he asked.

"As to your first question, I can but guess. There may be something in the ways of Northerners that prohibits doing one's own work. As to your second..." Kengetar hung his head bashfully. "I believe she is, uh, smitten with me." There were chuckles and smirks at this statement, and an arm of someone on his right gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. Kengetar disliked being at the center of such sport, but he allowed the moment of levity to pass, and loosen the tension in such dark times. The chief, however, remained impassive.

Kengetar took the lull in the conversation to launch into the next part of his speech. "Her plan requires us all to travel with her, and pose as slaves!" Immediately the jocular air in the tent soured, as the listeners scoffed in disgust. "I am not naive! I know that her promises of freedom seem unbelievable!" Kengetar pleaded. "But right now, playing along is the only way to prolong our lives! And thus far, she has at least made a show of keeping to her promise. We can use this time to regain our strength and prepare. I will stay close to her, and learn and gain what I can for you. If I learn that there is no hope for our release, I will signal by calling twice as the crying dove, and once as the sea hawk. Then the plan of escape will be in your hands."

The chieftain said nothing for a while, frowning and stroking his chin. He did not like accepting any plan that he did not come up with himself, but he did not see any other option. "Very well," he said. "We shall put it to a vote. All who agree with Kengetar's plan, raise your hands." Around the tent, hands went up. The chief counted them; there were far more hands up than down. "And are there any voices who oppose this plan?" he asked. No hands went up, and no voices spoke out. No one had any better ideas. "Very well. We put our fates in your hands, Kengetar," he said.

Kengetar relaxed. The Council disbanded. Others who were listening during the meeting, came up to him and asked questions, which he tried his best to answer. He also went around and gave away the articles of clothing he was given to those who needed it most. They could be used to warm the cold, or bind the wounded. At the end of it Kengetar was back down into nothing but a loincloth.