For the first time, the largest cavern in Iron Bone Stockade was packed with so many people.
The burly man from Black Stone Stockade nearly touched the cavern ceiling when he stood, windblown sand clinging to his thick beard. The female leader of Broken Blade Cliff wore black, half a broken sword tucked at her waist, her gaze scraping over people like a knife. The old man from Sandstorm Pass huddled in a corner, as if he wished he could squeeze himself into a crack in the rock. The young man from Dry Well Bay stared hard at White Snow, his eyes shining.
Twelve representatives had come from seven stockades in all.
White Snow stood on the stone table. It was not tall; even standing on it, she was barely level with the seated people. Yet she held her head high and her chest out, sweeping her golden eyes over the gathering, and somehow her presence subdued the entire cavern.
"I called everyone here today for one thing." She cleared her throat. "To band together."
The cavern fell silent for three breaths.
Then the bearded man from Black Stone Stockade burst out laughing. "That's it? A fat chicken called us here from three hundred li away just to say two words-band together?"
White Snow narrowed her golden eyes.
"I'm not a fat chicken," she said, stressing every word. "My name is White Snow."
"White Snow, Black Snow, whatever." The man waved a hand. "Black Stone Stockade's doing just fine. Why should we band together with you? What have you got to make it worth our while?"
"This."
White Snow opened her beak, and a wisp of golden flames danced on her tongue. White, star-like specks revolved slowly within the fire, casting the entire cavern into alternating light and shadow.
The