People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) (33 page)

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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)

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White Stone and Red Dog had not returned yet, and he thanked the gods for the reprieve. Every instant White Stone was still out looking for Tsauz, he could hope the boy lived. But if they returned with news that Tsauz … that his son …

“Dear gods, not today. I couldn’t stand it.”

His dreams had been tortured. Every time he started to fall asleep, he heard Tsauz shout,
“No, Father, please! Please, don’t leave me!”

He reached for his son’s bedding, crumpling it in his fingers as he pulled it to his chest, buried his face in it, and wept.

Thirty-four

W
hite Stone pulled off his drenched cape as they entered Fire Village’s palisade gate and exchanged pleasantries with the guards. He glanced at Red Dog. The old warrior looked as exhausted as White Stone felt. His graying black hair stuck to his furrowed forehead in wet locks. Mud spattered his bare legs, and his skin was threaded by red welts from branches, briars, and snags. They’d run straight up the mountain, eating and drinking as they went.

Two days before, they had rounded a bend in a patch of thick timber—and collided head-on with Sleeper’s warriors, who were headed the other way. In the melee that followed, White Stone had yelled, “Run!” and he and Red Dog had burst through, beating feet as they’d never run before.

Sleeper’s warriors had chased them the entire way. White Stone and Red Dog had used every trick known to them, doubling back, leaping off the trail, splashing up or down streams, then climbing out through tree branches to keep from leaving signs of their passage. Sometimes they stayed just beyond spear range. At others, it had seemed inconceivable that Sleeper’s warriors could have followed the convoluted path they’d taken. Then they would magically appear several hands of time later, still dogging their trail.

White Stone made a face as he ran his hands down his trembling legs.

“Red Dog, I want you to stand guard while I speak with Ecan.”

Red Dog scratched his broken nose. “Are you afraid of being overhead, or afraid you might need my protection?”

Annoyed, White Stone ordered, “Just keep watch.”

Red Dog grinned, flipped up his hood, and nodded as they plodded wearily toward Ecan’s. Rain was falling again, the drops pattering on White Stone’s head. At the moment, he couldn’t have cared less. The way he felt, everything below his waist might have been made of stone.

White Stone approached Ecan’s decorated lodge with a look of dread he knew he couldn’t hide. His heart was beating dully as he called, “Starwatcher? War Chief White Stone wishes to speak with you.”

He could hear someone scrambling about inside. The rustling of bedding and a low whimper made him look questioningly at Red Dog before he asked, “Starwatcher?”

“Maybe you’d better check,” Red Dog muttered.

“Keep watch.”

“Yes, War Chief.” Red Dog smiled. “Just wake me when you’re finished.”

White Stone clapped him on the shoulder and ducked into the interior. Larger than most domiciles, Ecan’s stretched three body lengths across. His sleeping hides lay against the west wall beneath a row of weapons. A collection of finely flaked stone axes glinted in the light. From poles above stacks of bark boxes and willow baskets hung a row of skulls.

It was said that Ecan fed them powdered seaweed every day when he was home. When he was away, the slaves had instructions to keep them happy with offerings. The story was that Ecan used to abuse them until old Rides-the-Wind told him that if the souls grew unhappy they could destroy the village.

White Stone wasn’t sure he believed it, but who wanted to take chances?

The bedding moved again, and White Stone squinted, making out a girl, perhaps nine or ten summers old, cowering under the hides.

“Who are you?”

She swallowed hard, eyes huge with fright, but no sound passed her lips.

“Get out of the Starwatcher’s house, now!” White Stone extended a finger toward the door. “This is no place for little imps like you to be playing.”

To White Stone’s surprise, the little girl bolted from the covers, naked as a seal pup, and shot through the door out into the rain.

“What the … ?” Red Dog cried.

“A child was hiding in here.”

“You forget where you are,” Red Dog replied meaningfully.

White Stone stiffened, understanding crawling through him.

“Greetings, Starwatcher!” Red Dog’s coarse voice barked outside. “The war chief is waiting for you.”

White Stone made a face and looked toward the door in time to see Red Dog bow as he pulled the lodge flap aside.

Ecan entered like one of the gods. His hair fell in long black waves over his broad shoulders. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a rain cape. Walking directly to White Stone, he demanded, “Where is my son?”

“Rain Bear has him.”

Color drained from the Starwatcher’s face; a quiver pulled at his lip.

White Stone frowned and looked away. He hated weakness in another man, especially someone as brutal as Ecan. “They used the boy’s dying dog to lure him out.” White Stone turned back. “Did you spear the dog?”

“Of course I did!”

Fatigue made him careless. “Next time you do something that stupid, make sure you kill it.”

Ecan’s eyes had taken on a weird light; his voice dropped to a hiss. “If I’d let it live Tsauz would have insisted upon taking it with him. I couldn’t take the chance that the miserable little cur would give away his hiding place.”

“Well, in the end, it worked out just that way.”

Ecan ignored the tone in White Stone’s voice. “Where did Rain Bear take my son?”

“The last we saw, they were fussing over Tsauz in the plaza during the Moon Ceremonial. We were surrounded by tens of people. We had to leave.”

Ecan took a deep breath. Dark blue smudged the flesh beneath his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“How did Tsauz look?”

White Stone lifted a shoulder. “He had scratches and bruises. Most of all, he looked frightened half out of his mind. He kept clutching that whimpering puppy so hard he was squeezing the guts out through the wound in its …”

A tremor, the sort icy fingers made on the spine, ran through Ecan. Then he said, “Fear can be endured. Bruises heal.”

“Yes.”

A frightening glitter filled Ecan’s eyes. He glared at White Stone for several heartbeats, maintaining control by sheer force of will.

White Stone, fatigued past good sense, just glared back.

Ecan’s dark brows lowered. “What do you think we should do next?”

White Stone shifted in confusion. “Don’t you understand what I’ve been saying? There’s nothing more
any
of us can do. If Rain Bear took him to Sandy Point Village, the boy is surrounded by tens of tens of warriors. They’d swat us like flies if we tried to rescue the boy. Unless you can talk the Council into approving a prisoner exchange, there’s no hope.” He could see by Ecan’s eyes that that wasn’t about to happen.

“Thank you, War Chief.” Ecan turned away. “Please go and report to Cimmis. He’s waiting for you.”

White Stone stared. “I’ll do that; then I must see the families of the warriors who were killed or captured. I’m sure they’re—”

“One last thing.” Ecan gracefully walked toward him. “I told Cimmis that you stayed behind because of Rain Bear.”

The rest remained unspoken.

White Stone picked up his rain cape. As he swung it around his shoulders, he woodenly said, “I
did
stay behind because of Rain Bear. I needed to judge the effects of our strike on War Gods Village. I needed to study his camps and count his warriors. How can we ever hope to crush him if we don’t know his weaknesses?”

“I agree, War Chief.”

White Stone walked by Ecan and pulled the lodge flap aside, but didn’t exit. “Ecan, I share the responsibility for what happened to the boy. Let me know if I—”

“Yes, War Chief,” Ecan interrupted. “I will.”

White Stone hesitated. “Um, you should know. I heard someone in here. There was a little girl …” He indicated the rumpled bedding.

“What?” Ecan glanced up, confused; then his eyes cleared. “Oh, yes. That. Never Mind. Cimmis is waiting in the Council Lodge for your report to him.”

White Stone stepped out into the rain. Red Dog met his gaze, and White Stone tilted his head, cueing Red Dog to watch Ecan. “I’ll be back soon, Red Dog.”

“Yes, War Chief.”

Half sick with dread, White Stone plodded wearily toward the Council Lodge.

Thirty-five

R
ed Dog stood in the rain beside the Starwatcher’s lodge and watched White Stone slog his way through the downpour toward the Council Lodge. Had he ever been this root-sucking tired before? Fatigue, like a warm fuzziness, weighted his limbs and lay heavily in his guts. His brain felt hot inside his skull despite the cold rain pattering on his bark hat. Still, he tried to peek through the swaying flap at Ecan. The Starwatcher looked like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

After a few more moments, Ecan pulled the leather hanging aside, and Red Dog slid his gaze to the slaves still going about their duties despite the downpour.

“Is everything all right, Starwatcher?” Red Dog asked offhandedly.

Ecan stepped out into the rain. He had the kind of sculpted face that made women stare admiringly.

In a voice laced with irony, Ecan said, “Everything’s fine.”

Red Dog gave him a quizzical look. “Starwatcher?”

Ecan’s eyes resembled shiny green beads. “I wish to hire you to undertake a special mission.”

“Really?”

“I will reward you very well.”

Red Dog lifted a shoulder. “I’m already wealthy, Starwatcher. When you hired me to burn down the Council Lodge where your wife’s family was gathered, I made a fortune.”

Ecan clamped Red Dog’s wrist. “That was
necessary
, Red Dog.
She was going to set my belongings outside our lodge. I would have lost my son! Her clan would have taken him away from me!”

Red Dog looked down at the Starwatcher’s hand—the man had never touched him before. “I just meant I am already rich, Starwatcher.”

“This is an important mission, Red Dog. Of course, it must seem as though you are strictly the chief’s messenger, but we need an intermediary to work with Rain Bear. Rain Bear knows you. He once trusted you.”

The cold grip of fear banished his fatigue. “That was a long time ago, Starwatcher. I guarantee he is no longer under any such illusion.”

“You are still the best choice.”

“I’d send someone else. Maybe Flying Fish. He’s reliable.” Red Dog glanced toward Cimmis’s lodge. Matron Astcat was staring at him through the doorway. She gazed about warily and crooked a beckoning finger before the door hanging dropped back in place.

Ecan leaned close, his nose within a finger’s width of Red Dog’s. “You’re going. Unless you’d like to tell me the name of the man who makes the fetishes you Trade for. I’d hire him in an instant. He’s Powerful, anonymous, and living right in the middle of us.”

“By Gutginsa’s balls, you’re right he’s Powerful!” Red Dog agreed, wondering what Astcat wanted. “Powerful enough that I’m not going to cross him. Not even for you, Starwatcher.”

Ecan backed away, a satiated smile on his lips. “Then perhaps you wouldn’t want it whispered around that you were serving a witch, eh, Red Dog? What’s his name? Coyote?”

Red Dog swallowed dryly, the fear coiling in his gut. “Look, I’ve never so much as seen his face. He wears a mask when we meet. He talks funny, with an accent, to hide his voice.”

“A man who
says
he works for a witch, could even
be
the witch.”

Red Dog shivered, but forced himself to say, “Or he could be someone like a Starwatcher, wearing a mask, hiding his voice.”

Ecan laughed harshly at that. “Stop prattling. You’re going, Red Dog. That’s all there is to it.”

Red Dog took a deep breath, knowing he had no choice. Liaison to a witch or not, Red Dog couldn’t afford to cross the Starwatcher. Not yet.

Ecan said, “It means you’ll have to run hard to get back by tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow! I just got home!” He had to see Astcat—and from her gesture, it was something furtive.

“It’s all downhill, and you’re accustomed to running for days straight.You’re perfect for the task.”

“Perfect for roasting over Rain Bear’s coals, you mean. He will eat my liver first.”

“Perhaps, but if you survive, you will be the wealthiest man in Fire Village.”

Red Dog pulled his wrist away and stole a quick glance at the lodge where he hoped Dzoo was being held. Dzoo, Astcat, Ecan … gods, this was getting complicated. “Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind; then we’ll discuss how much my liver is worth.”

T
sauz held the dead puppy as he walked into the meadow between Evening Star and Rides-the-Wind. Scattered clouds passed above to collect in a gray, cottony mass on the volcanic mountains farther to the east. A faint breeze stirred the firs, and a ring of warriors surrounded them.

For Evening Star, the ceremony came as a relief. The dog’s corpse was swollen, leaking brown liquid, and downright putrid.

How odd that a child’s grief can hold an adult’s common sense hostage.

It had been Rides-the-Wind who had had the courage to insist that Tsauz bury the rotting puppy. Fearing the boy might change his mind, Rain Bear had wasted no time preparing a cordon of guards to see them out of Sandy Point Village. People in the surrounding camps had watched in disbelief as the processional wound through their ragged camps. And for what? The burial of a puppy?

To Evening Star’s mind, it was either the stuff of legends, or a most ridiculous comedy. She looked around the grassy meadow Rides-the-Wind had picked. Alders, pine, and a ring of birch surrounded the opening.

“How much will I owe you, Elder?” Tsauz asked as he laid the limp corpse on a rock that the Soul Keeper had led him to. I—I don’t have anything here with me, but when I get home, I give you my oath I will send you—”

“I don’t wish to be paid, Tsauz. I’m just happy you asked me to help you.”

Crying, Tsauz said, “I promised him, Elder. I told him I would find someone to Sing his soul to the afterlife.” He wiped his cheeks on his sleeve. “Thank you, Elder.”

The gratitude in the boy’s voice was wrenching. “Let’s get started so Runner can be on his way.”

Sunlight glimmered on Rides-the-Wind’s gnarled hands as he reached into his ritual pack. He pulled out a small white bag and poured powdered seaweed into his palm. It shimmered a pale green.

Rides-the-Wind touched the boy’s shoulder. “Can you help me Sing him to the House of Air?”

Tsauz choked out, “Yes.”

Rides-the-Wind lifted his voice in the Death Song, and after a few moments, Tsauz’s voice, and then Evening Star’s, joined his:

In a sacred manner, we send a voice. We send a voice.

The path of Gutginsa is our strength.

The path of Gutginsa is our hope. A praise we are making. A praise we are sending.

In a sacred manner, we send a voice.

Hear us, our North Wind ancestors. Come and lead this puppy’s soul to the entry to the Above Worlds.

In a sacred manner we are sending a voice. Come, Blessed Ancestors, take this puppy’s soul to the House of Air.

The guards sifted through the trees around the meadow, quiet, alert, watching them. It was, perhaps, the first time any of them had heard the North Wind Death Song.

Rides-the-Wind lifted his hands. “The ancestors will find him here, Tsauz, and take his soul flying to the House of Air. Tonight he will be watching over you from high above.”

Tsauz looked blankly up at the cloud-packed morning sky where ravens flapped lazily toward the sea, cawing to each other.

“Is it true, Elder, that the dead can fly down to earth and make rainbows?”

Rides-the-Wind smiled and followed Tsauz’s gaze. The sky had started turning a deep shade of amber. “I think it’s true. They can bring rain and call the Thunderbirds … and make rainbows. Why do you ask?”

Tsauz chewed his lip. “I’ll be looking for Runner’s rainbow, that’s all.”

Evening Star watched them, her heart heavy. How would a blind
boy see a rainbow? She thought of her daughter, and all that the little girl would miss in life. Love, grief, smiles, and laughter. She would never enjoy that lift that came with a young man’s smile, or feel the tingle in her pelvis as she shared a man’s body. No life would be conceived to grow in her womb, and the tearing pain of childbirth would never be hers. So much was lost when a child died.

Rides-the-Wind stroked Tsauz’s dark hair. “You’ll see Runner’s rainbow. Someday soon, I imagine.”

The guards shifted. Several whispered to each other and squinted at their back trail.

Evening Star could feel something happening out there. “Let’s go back and eat breakfast. Soul Keeper, would you join us? Rain Bear promised to come for tea once he’s finished meeting with the other chiefs.”

“I would like that very much.” The old man looked at her with a knowing gaze.

At that moment, a warrior loped in from the forest, breathing hard, and called, “Where’s Chief Rain Bear?”

“The Council Lodge,” Evening Star’s guard Hornet answered. “What’s happened?”

“We caught one of Ecan’s assassins sneaking up on the village!”

Evening Star stiffened. “Elder, please make sure you get the boy back safely.”

“What about you?” Rides-the-Wind asked.

A cold shiver went through her. “I know some of the Wolf Tails. Perhaps I can name this one.”