People of the Longhouse (12 page)

Read People of the Longhouse Online

Authors: W. Michael Gear

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Native American & Aboriginal

BOOK: People of the Longhouse
12.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
K
oracoo stood across from where Gonda knelt warming his hands over the oil lamp. He watched her in the dim light. Her beautiful face and chopped-off hair glowed faintly orange.
“What are you thinking?” he finally asked.
“I was just wondering what I would do in Atotarho’s place.”
“Well, I can tell you what I’d do. I’d pick a warrior I trusted to deliver my message exactly. This is going to be very delicate. One wrong word could bring disaster.”
She folded her arms beneath her red cape, and the hem swayed around her long legs. “The simple solution is to pick someone who fears him.”
“You mean a man who is terrified of what Atotarho will do to him if he fails?”
“Of course. Anyone who is afraid of being executed in front of his beloved family will probably do as instructed.”
Gonda got to his feet and expelled a breath. “That’s why you are war chief. You’re pitiless.”
Koracoo’s expression hardened. “I’m practical. I remember the lessons old Faru taught me.”
“Faru, the Healer? What lessons?”
Koracoo hesitated. She toyed with her sleeve, smoothing it. “When
I first exited the Women’s House, she sat down with me to tell me my duties as a new woman. Her first lesson was about men.”
“Really?” The rituals that introduced new women to the world were reserved exclusively for women. It was forbidden for a man to ask anything about them—but since he had the opportunity … “What did she say?”
“Faru told me that if I truly wished to unravel the knot in the hearts of men, I had to live their deaths every waking moment.”
Gonda frowned at her. “What does it mean?”
“I’m still working it out. But one thing I know: Every time I look at one of my warriors, I live his death. On the fabric of my souls, I see through his eyes as he’s captured, tortured, killed. It reminds me of my duty to keep him safe.”
“But what does that have to do with unraveling the knot in the hearts of men?”
A faint smile turned her lips. “For most men, the knot is fear. It’s what ties their afterlife souls to their bodies; it keeps them alive. Keeps them sane. If you grasp what a man is afraid of, you can either kill him, or save his life.”
He thought back to their earlier discussion. No wonder she would choose a man who feared her. If that’s what tied his soul to his body, he would follow her orders exactly and come home alive.
A gust of wind penetrated the house, and the lamp’s flame wavered, throwing multiple shadows across the walls and ceiling.
Gonda stared at her. From the first instant he’d fallen in love with her he’d been doing the reverse: He’d been
dying her life.
She had endured so much, lost so many loved ones, and suffered greatly while serving as war chief. For the past thirteen summers, every shimmer of tears in her eyes had been a little death for him.
He said, “What are you afraid of, Koracoo?”
She cocked her head as though she couldn’t believe he had asked. “You know my fears.”
“A few of them, yes, but I don’t know the fear that ties your soul to your body.”
Koracoo opened her mouth to respond, but hushed voices erupted outside.
Chief Atotarho’s voice ordered, “Open the door, Sindak.”
The locking plank thudded as it was lifted, and the door swung open. Grandmother Moon’s gleam was so bright Gonda had to squint against it.
Atotarho stepped inside. The circlets of human skull on his black cape shimmered. He appeared wide awake. Perhaps he hadn’t slept at all since they’d seen him last.
“I understand that you have decided to accept my offer.”
Koracoo replied, “Yes, Chief. And we would like to leave as soon as you can arrange it.”
The lines around Atotarho’s eyes deepened. He nodded. “I will be sending two men with you. It will take them perhaps a half-hand of time to gather their things.”
Koracoo dipped her head. “We’ll be ready.”
Atotarho stepped outside again, and the door swung closed.
The warriors went silent, as though waiting for the chief to speak.
Atotarho said, “Sindak, Towa, you will both be accompanying War Chief Koracoo and Deputy Gonda. Gather whatever you will need. Then I want Towa to meet me at my longhouse as soon as possible.”
The chief’s steps softly moved away.
After another twenty heartbeats, Sindak hissed, “
Blessed Spirits!
Why us?”
“Oh, stop it. You’re not the one he asked to meet him at his longhouse,” Towa said. “I wonder what he wants?”
The two other warriors chuckled, and it sounded like men slapping each other on the backs. “Lucky you,” someone said. “You have the chance to prove your valor to your chief in a way few men ever have.”
“What are you talking about, you imbecile? If we fail, he’ll roast us alive and eat us.”
“I want your liver,” another man said drily.
Sindak replied, “That’s not funny, Akio.”
Towa said, “Come on. We don’t have much time to get ready.”
Two men trotted away, and the new guards took up their positions on either side of the door. They continued to chuckle. Akio whispered,
“Gods, I’d hate to be them.”
Koracoo smiled wryly, walked to the wall, and sank down. As she leaned back against it, she closed her eyes, trying to get a few last moments of rest.
Gonda knelt in front of the oil lamp and held his cape open over the flame, letting the heat rise up and warm the inside of the buckskin.
Softly, Koracoo said, “I fear the same thing you do, Gonda—that I will fail to protect my family.”
His hands quaked. He lowered his cape and let the warmth seep into his flesh while he squeezed his eyes closed. He tried not to sound like he was strangling when he asked, “Blessed gods, how did you know that was my greatest fear?”
The smiling faces of Odion and Tutelo reared inside him, and he longed to get up and run back to the place where he’d seen the children’s moccasin tracks.
Koracoo looked up at him. “The only question that matters now is what does Odion fear? If we know, we may be able to save his life. He—”
“He fears he won’t be able to protect Tutelo.” Gonda hated to say it. “And he won’t. He’s not a fighter. We both know that.”
Odion feared everything: wolves howling in the distance, unfamiliar sounds in the night. The first time Gonda had taken the boy hunting, Odion had seen six summers. As nightfall descended upon the forests, the boy had started crying, and no matter what Gonda said to comfort him, Odion would not stop. He loved his son with all his heart, but Odion was timid and girlish.
“Fortunately, Wrass is there. That boy is a born warrior.”
Koracoo’s face tensed. She looked away, and he realized she must have thought his comment was meant as an insult to their son or his upbringing. Because their people traced descent through the female, Koracoo’s children belonged to her clan, not his. While a father might be concerned about his children’s upbringing, it was none of his business. He was responsible only for bringing up his sister ’s children.
“Koracoo, I didn’t mean to intrude or suggest—”
“No one is born a warrior, Gonda,” she said stiffly, and frowned at the flickering oil lamp. “We are made warriors by suffering, anger, and hatred. You fear that your son will never become a warrior. I fear that he will.” She squared her shoulders, as though bracing herself for a calamity. “I fear that his training started five days ago.”
S
indak waited for Towa just outside the Wolf Clan longhouse. He had a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his left shoulder, and carried a knife, war club, and two deerbone stilettos tied to his belt. Inside his belt pouch, he’d stuffed as much food as he could. And in the pack he wore on his back, he’d placed his cup, a horn spoon, and boiling bag, as well as an antler tine for resharpening stone tools, a blanket woven of twisted lengths of rabbit hide, and an extra pair of moccasins.
He sighed and looked around Atotarho Village. In Grandmother Moon’s glow, the frost-coated walls of the longhouses glittered. It was cold tonight, and getting colder. He longed to be on the trail. When a man was walking, he could keep warm. He rubbed his arms beneath his cape and shivered.
From inside the longhouse, he heard Towa say in a low voice, “Yes, my chief.” Then, “Yes, I will.”
Towa ducked beneath the curtain that covered the longhouse entry and marched toward him. Sindak frowned. Towa’s face had a sober, vaguely lost expression.
Towa passed Sindak, said, “Let’s go,” and continued on toward the prisoners’ house.
Sindak trotted to catch up. “What happened in there? It took a long time.”
Towa flipped up the hood of his cape. “The chief just wanted to make sure I understood my duties.”
“I assume those are also my duties, so what did he tell you?”
Towa glanced at him. He’d pulled his hair back and braided it. The style made his face look leaner, more dangerous. His unblinking eyes resembled moonlit holes. “We are to find his daughter and bring her back. No matter the cost.”
“It would have taken five heartbeats for the chief to tell you that. What else did he say?”
Towa shook his head, indicating that he couldn’t repeat a word of it.
“Are you telling me he gave you secret orders?”
Towa looked away.
“But I’m much braver than you and a better warrior. If anybody was going to be trusted with secrets, it should have been me.”
Towa glared at him. “I didn’t
ask
for this burden. I’d gladly give it to you if I could.”
“Burden? What burden?”
Towa focused his gaze on the prisoners’ house, where Akio and Ober stood guard on either side of the door. Both friends were watching them with wide, expectant eyes. As Towa and Sindak came closer, they started whispering to each other.
Akio called, “Is the chief coming?”
“No,” Towa answered. “You are to release the Standing Stone warriors and open the palisade gates for us.”
Suspiciously, Ober said, “On whose authority? Yours?”
“Yes, mine.” Grumbling, Towa jerked a magnificent carved gorget from his shirt and let it swing before their eyes.
“Blessed gods,” Ober hissed. “The chief gave you his sacred pendant? That means he grants you his authority. Whatever you say comes as if from the chief’s own mouth.”
Sindak stared openly at the pendant. Very few people had ever seen it up close. It was not a thing for ordinary eyes. He could feel Power pulsing around the hideous False Face, representing Horned Serpent, and the falling stars that filled the background. It was big enough to cover half of a man’s chest. Legend said that at the time of the cataclysm, two pendants had been carved by the breath of Horned Serpent. One belonged to the chief. The other to the human
False Face who would don a cape of white clouds and ride the winds of destruction across the face of the world.
Sindak whispered, “Put it away, Towa. Our eyes should not look upon such a Powerful thing.”
Towa tucked it back into his shirt and gestured to the door. “Open the door to the prisoners’ house, Ober. In the meantime, Akio, tell the guards on the catwalk that the chief has ordered the palisade gate to be opened.”
“Yes, Towa.” Akio waddled up to the palisade gate and shouted, “Bostum? The chief has ordered that the gate be opened so that War Chief Koracoo and her party may leave.”
“What?”
Bostum shouted back. “You’re just a fat boy, Akio. I’m not going to listen to you. Where’s Nesi? I want to hear it from him.”
Akio turned back to Towa, obviously thinking Towa would bring out the pendant again. Instead, Towa said, “Go and fetch Nesi. The fewer people who know about the gorget the better.”
“I’m going.” Akio hurried across the plaza and ducked into the Hawk Clan longhouse.
As Ober lifted the locking plank and swung open the door to the prisoners’ house, Sindak waited beside Towa. His friend was breathing hard, as though the weight of the pendant resting on his chest was suffocating him.
Sindak whispered, “How’s your belly?”
Towa gave him an askance look. “Why would you want to know?”
“Not even a hint of weasels thrashing around in there, trying to get out?”
“Well, small weasels …” He halted when War Chief Koracoo and Deputy Gonda walked out and stood quietly in the brilliant moonlight. Koracoo adjusted her cape, then tied her belt more securely around it.
“Towa. Sindak.” She looked both of them straight in the eyes. “Are you ready?”
Towa answered, “Yes, War Chief. You should know that Atotarho has instructed us to obey your orders as we would his.”
Gonda’s heavy brow wrinkled. He glanced suspiciously at Towa, then Sindak, and finally said, “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
“What do you mean?”
Gonda grimaced as he walked past, heading toward the palisade gate.
Koracoo looked at Towa. Her chopped-off hair fell in uneven
lengths around her beautiful face. “As I understand it, Towa, you are the chief’s personal representative. You are carrying his sacred gorget, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Towa shifted uncomfortably.
Koracoo searched his eyes, and Towa must have felt her scrutiny like a blow to the stomach, for he stopped breathing. “Very well. It’s after midnight. Let’s get as close to the clearing where we found the baby as we can; then we’ll eat and try to rest until we have enough light to track.”
Without waiting for a response, she led the way to stand beside Gonda in front of the gate.
“They must want to be out of here badly,” Sindak said.
“Wouldn’t you? They took their lives in their hands when they brought the baby here.”
“They must have thought that baby was very important,” Sindak commented. “We should have killed them. They’re our enemies.”
“Well, keep that to yourself. The chief says that in this one instance, they are our allies and we are to treat them as such.”
“Until they prove otherwise, you mean.”
Towa tightened the laces on his leggings. “Atotarho told me our first duty is to protect Zateri, then ourselves, and finally the other children.”
“He gave no orders about protecting Koracoo or Gonda?”
“They can protect themselves, and he knows it.”
Sindak turned when Nesi stalked forward with Akio trotting behind him. In the darkness, Nesi looked like a wounded giant. The scars on his face might have been a tangle of white cords.
He marched straight to Towa, placed his hands on his hips, and barked, “Who gave you the authority to tell the guards to open the gate?”
Towa turned so that Koracoo and Gonda could not see the pendant, and drew it out for Nesi. Nesi’s face slackened. For several heartbeats, he seemed confused as to what to do about it. Sindak thought Nesi might even be thinking that Towa had stolen the sacred gorget.
Finally, Nesi said, “Why do you have that?”
“The chief is sending us out on a special mission with War Chief Koracoo to find his daughter and bring her home safely.”
Nesi’s scars twitched. “Why you two? You’re the last two warriors I’d choose.”
Sindak shrugged expressively, and Towa said, “You should, perhaps, ask the chief.”
Anger, or maybe suspicion, flared in Nesi’s eyes. He looked up and lifted a hand to Bostum. “Open the gate, Bostum. Let them out, then close it up tight.”
“Yes, War Chief.”
Nesi glanced hatefully at Koracoo and Gonda, gave Sindak and Towa a final unnerving appraisal, and stalked back toward the Hawk Clan longhouse.
Towa put a hand to his heart and sucked in a fortifying breath. “Blessed Spirits, I thought for a moment he was going to tackle me and rip the gorget from my throat.”
“So did I. He seemed very unhappy that we had been chosen for this task.”
“Well, he does think we’re useless. Maybe he thought the chief would select him. Who knows?”
Sindak pointed to Towa’s wounded arm. “I notice that you removed your sling. I assume that’s so it’s not as obvious that you’re useless.”
“Exactly.”
“You should have left it on. Koracoo and Gonda are going to find out soon enough anyway.”
“Thanks. I feel better.”
They headed toward the gate. By the time they got there, Bostum had removed the locking plank and pulled the heavy gate open wide enough for one person to pass through. Koracoo went first, followed by Gonda, Towa, and lastly, Sindak.
Only the faint whisper of frozen leaves underfoot filled the night as they walked out into the forest.
They’d gone perhaps fifty paces when Koracoo stopped beside a sassafras tree. Clusters of blue fruit clung to the tree branches.
“What’s she doing?” Sindak asked.
Towa shrugged.
Gracefully, Koracoo knelt, reached behind the tree, and pulled CorpseEye from beneath a bed of leaves. The legendary club glowed in the moonlight.
Sindak stared openly and hissed, “There it is. Blessed gods.” He fervently hoped that in the days to come, she would not have an excuse to use it on him.

Other books

Twisted River by Siobhan MacDonald
Platonic by Kate Paddington
Deception by Margaret Pargeter
Run Away Baby by Holly Tierney-Bedord
FM for Murder by Patricia Rockwell
The Castrofax by Jenna Van Vleet
Kaki Warner by Miracle in New Hope
My Lady of the Bog by Peter Hayes