Spirited (16 page)

After a time, Oneko said, “We’ll keep things as they are. For now.”

Sasious clenched his jaw and wrapped his fingers around his tomahawk, his body poised as if for further argument, but he said nothing in response.

Wusamequin stood down as well. He had gotten what he wanted.

Oneko crossed his arms over his chest to signal that he was moving on. “War chief, ask your braves to find the caves behind the falls. Wusamequin, assist them.” He raised a hand as if to answer Wusamequin’s next question. “I’ll take charge of Mahwah until your return.”

“She’s not one of us, and that is not her name,” Sasious said angrily, releasing some of his frustration at not being awarded custody of her. But at a stern look from Oneko, he added, “But if Oneko wishes her to be called in the manner of Beautiful, then I’ll do as he wishes.”

“My heart soars at your acquiescence,” Oneko said flatly, raising his chin. He stood every inch a leader, and Wusamequin saw how his spirit shone. He knew the People were lucky that he wore the beaded belt of office.

Wusamequin said to Oneko, “I know exactly where the caves are. Great Bear and I walked inside them in my dream. When Sasious gives the word, we can be off to survey them.”

Pleased and surprised, Oneko smiled and raised his brows. “Is that so, my son? Then I’ll tell the People to begin preparations to descend the cliffs.”

“We should check first,” Sasious objected. “To make sure his dream was true.”

Oneko shook his head. “I have faith in Wusamequin.” He put his hand on Wusamequin’s
shoulder and smiled at him. “Please thank Great Bear for us.”

Wusamequin was grateful for the show of support. And thrilled that the nature of his shamanic gift was so clear to him. He inclined his head and said, “I will thank him.”

Not able to learn if the four little people had names, Isabella decided to name them after the fairy creatures in
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
, a play about magic by Englishman William Shakespeare. The little female Makiawisug was therefore Titania, the Queen of the Fairies. The man who appeared to be her consort was Oberon, the King. The other two were Puck and Cobweb.

After leaving the tent for a short time, Titania and Oberon had returned dragging a human-sized comb made of tortoise shell like a
travois
behind them. After some gesticulation, Isabella had understood that Titania wished her to lie down. Then she and Oberon worked the comb together, rather like two people hoeing fields, and ran it through Isabella’s hair. When they hit a mat, they would stop combing and busily set to work untangling it.

I
should be called Cobweb
, Isabella thought. Having her hair combed was sheer heaven, and with a smile upon her face, Isabella began to doze.

The sound of footfalls in the moist earth outside the tent roused her; she startled and sat up. Still working with the comb, Titania and Oberon
squeaked in protest as the pair swung in a wide semicircle. She carefully cupped her hand around them, and they dropped into her palm.

She lowered them to her lap and watched the tent flap. Puck and Cobweb ran toward it, hunkering down to see who was coming. She tensed; she had been rude to Wusamequin, and she didn’t know what to expect. It had been stupid of her; she had better make amends to him, for she sensed that he stood between her and Sasious.

Oneko, the chief of the savages, lifted up the flap and peered in at her. Isabella gasped and put her hand to her throat. She panicked, and glanced at Titania, who watched her with curious brown eyes.

Oneko ignored the tiny fairy queen as he came into the tent, speaking to Isabella in his native tongue. Isabella tried to stand up, but her thigh pained her and she stayed where she was. Her mind raced; her heart skipped beats.

Finally, she rasped out,
“Aquai.”

The chief smiled kindly at her.
“Aquai
, Mahwah.”

He walked toward her, raising his moccasin and almost planting it directly on Puck. Isabella cried out, “Oh, please, do be careful!”

Oneko froze. He looked down at the ground and then back up at her, a quizzical look on his face. Puck scurried out of his way, burying himself in the grass bed.

Isabella cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir,” she said to Oneko. “I—I feared for the little man.” She
tried to remember the word. “Makiawisug.”

The man’s lips parted and his brows shot up. He said something to her that sounded like a question. When she shyly shook her head to indicate that she didn’t understand, he said slowly, “Makiawisug?”

Titania threw her hands in the air and trilled her musical laughter. The three little men guffawed, pointing at Oneko and making terrible faces at him.

“Yes,” she said in English.

He was shocked. She could find no other word for it. He looked around the tent, his gaze passing right over all four of the little people.

He cannot see them
, she realized.
And it surprises him that I can. Perhaps that’s a bad thing.

So she laughed and said, “I was only joking!” She knew he couldn’t understand her but she hoped he would discern her meaning from her tone of voice.

Smiling uncertainly, he crossed his legs at the ankles and lowered himself to the floor, not quite as agile as Wusamequin, but nimble for a man of years. He put his hands on his knees and stared hard at her. She looked around for something to offer him, and lifted the water gourd, which still had a bit of water in it.

He raised a brow, and she found herself thinking of her father. A lump formed in her throat as she reminded herself that though this man was perhaps her father’s age, he was nothing like her father. They said in Albany that Indians stole white babies, ripped open their throats, and drank their blood. They said
they … they took advantage of Englishwomen, as Sasious had tried to do.

The hand she held out to him began to tremble violently. She wasn’t certain what to do; if she withdrew the gourd, she might offend him. But she had begun to shake so badly that she was afraid all the water would slosh out, or that she would drop the gourd.

Slowly he reached out and took the gourd. His fingertips brushed hers, and she jerked. His mouth drooped as if in displeasure. She tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. Her mouth felt as if she had drunk deeply of dust, not water.

He silently drank, watching her. The four little people piled onto her lap, Titiania stroking her fingers as if for comfort. Then Titania curled up like a cat, singing to herself.

Oneko saw none of that.

“Mahwah,” he said. He began speaking to her in a low, steady voice. She didn’t understand a word, but she listened hard. It was no good. Tears welled; she was tired and frightened and she wished Wusamequin would come back. Had she been placed in Oneko’s care? What was happening?

He stopped speaking. She didn’t know what to do. She had already been criticized for staring at him. She didn’t know if he wanted her to answer him, or perform some task, or simply sit there.

Titania sat up and looked at Isabella. “Mahwah,” she said, and pointed to her wounded thigh. Then she gestured to her own dress of leather and fringes
and rolled up the hem, exposing her upper leg.

“Oh.” Isabella flushed crimson. Surely he did not wish her to show him her wound! It would be so unseemly.

Titania repeated the motion and jumped out of Isabella’s palm. Isabella took a breath and reached for the hem of her dress. Titania gestured eagerly for her to continue.

Dutifully, she rolled up the hem and pushed down her legging, so embarrassed she could barely breathe.

He leaned forward, studying it. She saw that he was examining the packing and the stitches. He looked most intrigued. Then he sat back, and spoke to her again.

Titania stretched her arms toward the tent flap. Footfalls thudded outside, and there was talking. Isabella inhaled sharply, and the man spoke to her again.

“Wusamequin?” she asked hopefully. Had he told Oneko he no longer wished to endure her company? Was someone coming for her? Someone … else?

The tent flap opened and a brave she didn’t know poked his head in and spoke to Oneko. Before Isabella had a chance to react, Oneko came forward and scooped her up in his arms. As he did so, Titania screeched, clinging to Isabella’s palm as she was jostled to and fro. The little men also scrambled for purchase, rolling in the valley of her dress as Oneko carried her out of the tent.

Outside, four braves in leather jerkins and leggings
waited with a litter, which had been constructed of a rectangle of leather bound around two long, straight tree branches. Oneko deposited her on it. She tried to tuck her legs beneath herself but her thigh hurt too much, so she kept that leg extended while she bent her knee and slipped her ankle under the other knee. Then she leaned back on her hands.

One of the braves glared at her, showing his teeth like an angry dog. She looked questioningly back at Oneko, who had not seen. He waved his hand and the four braves moved off, walking toward the fire rings she had seen the night before. There were only embers now, and many of the tents had been taken down. Women and men were in the process of dismantling the ones that still stood.

Her small procession caused a stir as Oneko led the way past the busy villagers. She wondered why he hadn’t ordered her put back in her
travois.

Birds sang; the tall pines trembled with movement as squirrels capered along the branches. Clouds hung in an azure sky.

After a few minutes, a mighty rush of water soon overpowered all other sounds; to her right, a waterfall far more massive than the one she had seen on the forest path cascaded in a horseshoe, rushing and tumbling into whitewater that shot past boulders and overhanging trees. She had never seen such a sight, and despite her situation, she leaned over the side of the litter, caught up in the display of nature’s might. Surely the Creator of such
thunderous wonder could look after one as small and defenseless as she.

The braves continued to the right. There was a series of rocks that jutted out like the steps of a stairway, and they carefully bore her down them. She saw that the steps descended halfway down the side of the cliff… and that approximately fifty feet below them, someone was emerging from behind the falls.

It was Wusamequin, and as he appeared, he looked straight up at her. Her heart leapt; and before she could stop herself, she lifted her hand in a gesture of greeting.

He did not respond. He continued to gaze in her direction, almost as if he didn’t see her. Afraid-of-Everything trotted up behind him, stationing himself against his master’s leg as the medicine man folded his arms, watching as the braves brought her toward him. The force of the air tossed his long hair as the falls tumbled to the depths below. His features were shadowed, but she could easily make them out. She had learned his face by heart.

Once at his level, he gestured for them to follow. From her new vantage point, she saw that a ledge extended from behind the falls; and the water arched in such a way as to make walking on the ledge possible. The stones were wet, and sheened with moss and slime; and Isabella looked with apprehension at the brave who had glared at her. He was grinning at her as if to say, I
wonder what would happen if I slipped. It seems to me that you would be catapulted into the falls.

She sincerely doubted that anyone would survive such an ordeal.

Her fingers grew numb as she worked her hands into the leather upon which she sat. The four Makiawisug chattered among each other, quite animated. Then Oberon jumped to his feet, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed at Wusamequin.

Immediately, Wusamequin turned around. Isabella raised her brows. It should have been impossible for Wusamequin to hear the little man’s voice, and yet obviously he had. As Wusamequin cocked his head, Oberon pointed at Isabella and nattered on. Wusamequin walked toward the litter, and Isabella licked her lips, at once both anxious and eager for him to draw near.

He spoke to the brave who had glared at her. The man flashed the shaman a guilty look, then moved aside. Wusamequin took his place at the litter, wrapping his hand around the tree branch, and spoke sternly to the others.

The litter moved forward. The displaced brave stomped back toward the rock stairway. Titania darted to Wusamequin’s hand and happily petted the back of it with both her tiny hands. Oberon grinned up at Isabella, nodding his head. No one else took the slightest notion of them. They were invisible to everyone except her and Wusamequin.

They warned him that I was in danger from that brave
, she realized.
They are his friends.

They are my friends. I wonder if they would help me escape.

The thought made her dizzy. She had no idea how she would manage to ask them, or if they would tell Wusamequin, or what he would do if he found out. But she said in a heartfelt voice,
“Wneeweh.”

Perhaps it was her accent, but they fell to giggling, and would not stop until Wusamequin spoke sharply to them. Then the quartet sat straight up, legs crisscrossed and arms folded across their chests. They were like naughty schoolchildren who had been called to order by their master. Or so Isabella assumed; she had never gone to a school. She had been tutored at home.

Wusamequin spoke to the three other bearers, and the litter turned to the left. There was an opening in the rock face behind the falls broad enough for perhaps six men to enter if they walked shoulder to shoulder.

They carried her through the opening and into a tunnel that extended for perhaps twenty feet. Then it opened up into a vast cavern that had been illuminated with two or three dozen torches. Rock formations hung from the cavernous ceiling like chandeliers; others fanned across the room like the pipes of an organ. Sections of the walls shimmered in the firelight as if they had been created from crystal. They were multicolored—pink and jade and a bluish gray. In the ground, mud of rainbow hues bubbled in small pools—purple and crimson and midnight blue.

The place was of such exquisite beauty that Isabella cried out aloud. She startled the men; one of them chuckled, but was silenced by a look from Wusamequin.