It Sleeps in Me (22 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: It Sleeps in Me
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AT MIDNIGHT, SORA WALKED DOWN THE DIM HALLWAY IN silence, carrying her chunkey lance. Beyond the entrance door, she heard warriors laugh softly. She did not say a word as she pulled aside the curtain to the temple and stepped into the firelit stillness.
Iron Hawk looked up from the pot she was stirring. “Chieftess! I’m happy to see you.” In the gleam of the Eternal Fire, her heart-shaped face seemed chiseled from pure amber. “I was told not to disturb you, but it was getting so late I feared you would be starving.” She quickly filled a bowl and held it out to Sora.
Sora leaned her chunkey lance against the wall and crossed the floor to take the bowl. “Forgive me for not coming sooner. I was occupied.”
Iron Hawk wiped her hands on her brown dress. “Of course, Chieftess. There are many things happening in town. I understand.”
Sora ate while she stared up at the gleaming body of Black Falcon that hung on the wall. Tonight Power radiated from him like a thousand suns. As though set loose on the wind by the gods, it flowed around and through her, turning her veins into streams of warm light.
“This is delicious, Iron Hawk. Where did you get the clams?”
The slave smiled and bowed. “Matron Wink gave them to me. She told me that you love clams. It pleases me that you enjoy the stew.”
Sora stopped eating suddenly, lowered the bowl, and stared down at it. She’d eaten half the bowl and hadn’t noticed any taint to the flavor. Still …
She handed the stew back to Iron Hawk. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
Iron Hawk’s smile faded. “Would you like something else? It won’t take me long to fry some fish, or—”
“No. Truly, I’m fine.” Sora exhaled hard. “But there is one more thing I need you to do for me.”
“Of course, Chieftess. Anything.”
Sora reached out to touch the plain, coarsely woven dress that Iron Hawk wore. It smelled of wood smoke. “Give me your dress.”
Iron Hawk frowned as though she didn’t understand. Her gaze went over Sora’s face questioningly. “My dress?”
“Yes. I need your dress,” she replied as she pulled her sleep shirt over her head and handed it to Iron Hawk, “and your cape and hat.”
FEATHER DANCER AND LONG FIN WALKED THE FOREST TRAIL in plain sight. The rest of their party moved like ghosts through the trees, heading toward Chief Blue Bow’s party.
Blue Bow bravely marched out front, followed by War Chief Grown Bear and twenty warriors—a pittance given the potentially dire consequences of his visit.
“You’re taller than I am, Feather Dancer. Can you see Blue Bow?” Long Fin asked.
“Yes. Just up ahead.”
Blue Bow’s copper headdress and breastplate reflected the starlight like liquid amber. He was a small, skinny old man with a long nose and receding chin. His bald head reminded Feather Dancer of a boiled egg.
When the party came within thirty paces, Feather Dancer stepped in front of Long Fin and called, “Identify yourselves.”
The Loon warriors immediately closed ranks around their chief, making it impossible to see the old man, and Grown Bear shouted, “Who are you?”
“I am Feather Dancer, war chief to Matron Wink of the Black
Falcon Nation. As a gesture of our goodwill, her son, Long Fin, is with me.”
Blue Bow’s brittle voice responded, “I am Chief Blue Bow, council leader of the Loon People.”
“Show yourself that we may know your words are true.”
Blue Bow shouldered through his warriors and stood like a small statue next to Grown Bear’s burly form.
Feather Dancer said, “I recognize you, Chief. You are welcome in the Black Falcon Nation. Matron Wink asked us to escort you safely into Blackbird Town. Do not be alarmed when our warriors come out of the trees. They are here to protect you.” He lifted his hand, and men filtered through the dark oak trunks to surround the Loon party.
Blue Bow’s old eyes narrowed. “To protect us from whom, War Chief? If your matron welcomes us—”
Long Fin called, “Do all the Loon clans agree on political decisions, Chief?”
Blue Bow’s grizzled brows lowered. “No. They do not. Which clans oppose my presence in the Black Falcon Nation? I would know so that I might prepare myself for their treachery.”
Long Fin answered, “No one has openly opposed your visit, but my mother is cautious. She truly wishes to keep you from harm.”
“I appreciate that,” Blue Bow said, and turned to his war chief. “Grown Bear, I wish to speak with Long Fin alone. Please follow twenty paces behind us.”
“But my chief!” Grown Bear objected. “That is too risky. They may be plotting—”
“I will take that chance. Do as I say.”
Grown Bear murmured something unpleasant and backed away.
Blue Bow came forward and looked up at Feather Dancer with starlit eyes. “Let me walk out front with Long Fin for a time, War Chief.”
“As you wish.”
“But not too far out front,” Long Fin said to Feather Dancer with a dip of his head.
Feather Dancer understood. He dropped three paces behind.
He heard Blue Bow say, “I would ask you some questions, Long Fin, if you do not mind.”
Long Fin nodded and led the way up the trail through the towering trees. “I do not mind, if you understand that I may not be able to answer.”
“That is a fair arrangement.”
Blue Bow adjusted his bright copper breastplate and softly asked, “Is it true that Chieftess Sora has offered her life to Matron Sea Grass to compensate her for the loss of her son, War Chief Skinner?”
“It is.”
Blue Bow shook his head. “It saddens me to hear of it. These sorts of things make political negotiations much more difficult.”
“I’m sure the chieftess will put her own personal concerns aside during her time with you.”
“Yes, I’m sure she’ll try, but when one’s life is at stake it’s impossible to concentrate fully on difficult negotiations, don’t you agree?”
“I am just the matron’s son. Trade agreements are not my expertise. I do not even understand why this green stone is so important to possess.”
Feather Dancer squinted at the lie. Over the past hand of time, Long Fin had talked of little else. He wanted the stone badly. What was the youth up to? Had he worked this out with Matron Wink?
Obviously confused, Blue Bow asked, “What green stone?”
Long Fin frowned. “The jade.” When Blue Bow’s expression didn’t change, Long Fin said, “The jade brooch you sent to Chieftess Sora.”
The warriors following twenty paces behind muttered among themselves, probably exchanging insults, as enemy warriors did. Someone chuckled, and another man growled a response.
Blue Bow’s sunken face contorted. “I didn’t send her any brooch. What are you talking about?”
“You sent your war chief to Chieftess Sora with a brooch—”
“It was her broken promise that forced me to send Grown Bear to your chieftess. There was no brooch.”
Clearly taken aback, Long Fin said, “Explain.”
If Blue Bow was involved in the plot to cause the chieftess’ downfall, he might say anything.
But if he didn’t give Grown Bear the brooch to bring to Chieftess Sora, who did? Who is Grown Bear’s secret ally in the Black Falcon Nation?
“Explain?” Blue Bow said as though offended. “I mean that your chieftess was supposed to meet with me fourteen days ago to negotiate the release of your hostages. I never saw her! Your war party camped outside our village. She sent a man to me who promised that she would soon arrive. He said he was a willing hostage, that if she did not arrive in five days, we could kill him for insulting our people. Naturally, when the sixth day arrived, my people were outraged that she had not appeared as promised. They demanded I kill him.”
A searing prickle began at the nap of Feather Dancer’s neck. He stepped forward. “What man?”
“His name was Walking Bird. He said he was Water Hickory Clan.”
Long Fin turned to Feather Dancer. “War Chief, do you know what he’s talking about?”
“Not for certain. The chieftess ordered me to remain in camp while she and Walking Bird went into Eagle Flute Village. I didn’t like the idea, but I had no choice. She is my chieftess, and I obey her orders. When she returned alone five days later, she said that when they first entered the village Walking Bird had thrown himself in front of her to take the Loon arrow meant for her heart. The renegade warrior—”
“What Loon arrow?” Blue Bow cried. “No such thing ever happened!”
Long Fin lifted a hand to silence Blue Bow. His gaze had not left Feather Dancer’s face. “Finish your story, War Chief. What else did the chieftess say?”
“She said the renegade warrior had been killed by other Loon warriors and after that she’d been warmly greeted by Blue Bow himself. They’d talked of peace.”
She must have instructed Walking Bird after she left camp. What had she ordered him to do? To keep them occupied while she assessed the situation more thoroughly? Had she promised that she would be there long before they killed him? Dear gods, on the sixth day Walking Bird must have been frantic.
Unless …
If Blue Bow was secretly involved with Water Hickory Clan, he was lying to further hurt the chieftess, and Walking Bird was alive and well. But there was something about the chief’s voice that made Feather Dancer fear he was telling the truth.
“You never saw Chieftess Sora at all?” Long Fin asked.
“No. My scouts said that she left your camp with Walking Bird, but before they arrived, she walked away into the trees. They tried to track her, but she was too shrewd for them. They never saw her again. I only saw Walking Bird.”
Where did she go? Both White Fawn and Flint were killed during that crucial time period.
A twig cracked behind Feather Dancer, and he heard the soft hiss of a lance cutting the air.
“Get down!” Feather Dancer shoved Long Fin aside.
Blue Bow staggered, gasped,
“No, dear gods!”
and toppled to the ground.
Warriors raced forward to surround them. Copper-studded war clubs glinted like torches as they waved in the starlight.
Feather Dancer dropped to his knees to examine Blue Bow, and hot blood spurted over his chest. Blue Bow writhed on the ground, clutching his throat, trying to clamp the artery shut.
“How bad is it?” Blue Bow screamed.
The chunkey lance had lodged below his left ear, neatly slicing the big vein in his throat. They couldn’t pull the lance out or it would make things worse.
“What happened?” Grown Bear shouted.
“Chief Blue Bow has been lanced through the throat.”
“Lanced?
By whom?”
“Grown Bear?” Blue Bow called. “Am I dying? Look at my wound!”
Grown Bear knelt. Surprise and outrage slackened his face as he pretended to examine the wound. The injury was clearly mortal. His chief’s life drained away onto the forest floor with stunning rapidity. Through gritted teeth Grown Bear repeated, “Who did this?”
Feather Dancer rose to his feet. “Please, let’s stay calm. If we are not very prudent, this will cause war between our peoples.”
Long Fin gestured to their warriors. “Follow me. We must find the chief’s killer!”
His men instantly obeyed, lunging into the trees behind Long Fin, their war clubs up and ready.
Grown Bear shouted to his party, “Go with them! See that the killer is brought to me unharmed. I must question him!”
For several terrible heartbeats after their warriors left, Feather Dancer and Grown Bear stared at each other without saying a word. Blue Bow had gone still, but blood continued to pump rhythmically from his wound.
Grown Bear whispered, “Was someone out there listening to your conversation?”
“Even if there was, he should have killed me first.”
A weak old man was easy to kill. A wise warrior would have killed Feather Dancer first, then Blue Bow.
Grown Bear cocked his head, and the scar that bisected his face reflected the starlight like a twisting crystalline serpent. “Yes, any of my men would have killed you, then Long Fin. Which proves the murderer wanted both of you alive. What did Blue Bow tell you?”
“Very little,” he carefully answered. “He was talking about what happened in your village almost a half-moon ago.”
“Why would someone kill him for that? Everyone knows your chieftess tricked us—”
Long Fin cried,
“Quickly! Someone help me!”
A cacophony of voices and cracking twigs erupted as warriors raced to his location from every part of the forest.
Feather Dancer leaped over Blue Bow and ran. Through the weave of tree trunks, he saw Long Fin kneeling near a body that lay at the edge of a starlit meadow.
“Who is it?” Feather Dancer called. “Do you recognize him?”
Long Fin answered, “It’s Far Eye!”
Feather Dancer and at least ten warriors converged on the scene at the same time. He had to shoulder through the crowd to get to the body.
Far Eye lay on his back staring up at the night sky.
A pool of blood spread around his crushed skull. It looked black and shiny in the starlight.

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