The wise woman continues to befuddle the tribe. She who had assured us that the chief needed to die, she who was so certain that Attika would lead us to a new, prosperous age, met a usurper with some pretty jewelery and now fights us, bending the rules to suit her new purposes. Honovi is visited by the Spearwives and through their urging, elects to become a subchief. My Mordin returns steeled for the fight ahead, but both are denied thier right by this schemer. She sleeps with this shapeshifting usurper and suddenly decides that to become chief, he must only defeat the most cowardly of subchiefs, and yet I am the one called a whore! Or perhaps this is some sort of hidden love? Did she steal away when we were with the Bloody Tears to be with him? Perhaps this is where the necklace was “found” in the first place. My mind wanders to determine her nefarious purposes; what brought about this change?
Honovi and I challenge her on her trickery, but she will not listen to me, deeming me “unworthy.” Does she not understand that as Free Folk, we are all equal? Then, she refuses Honovi, setting her and the Spearwives into a fury. They want to leave, and though I try to talk her into staying, she is filled with too much wrath to listen. I leave her, but promise to send an envoy to retrieve her, should things change. The wise woman then says she will talk only to Mordin, and not to me, saying he would only have “a woman speak for him.” She would besmirch her own sex to twist things to her will! Has this usurper not been in her care, sheltered from the tribe this entire night and day? I know Mordin can hold his own, and he comes back to me and our loyalists. He tells me thier talk went well, but he must think on things. I cannot trust that woman and her people, though, so I have our men stand guard against spies and traitors while we make love.
When we have finished, we speak with Honovi, and are able to convince her to stay, for the good of the tribe. We cannot be fractured by the madness that has overtaken Siljie. The Spearwives and Honovi agree to stay, and we lend her our opulent tent for their own stress-relief while Mordin and I stand with ours. Mordin breaks from us to approach the madwoman and her whelp. I fear what may happen next, but he tells her he will do as she wishes and stand down. He returns to me after a bow, strikingly symbolic, as we Weirwrath bow to no one. I hope the point is taken throughout the tribe. He returns to us. And we watch. We have patience, and we will Wait.