People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) (11 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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A cry lodged in his throat as he scrambled backward. “Oh, Blessed gods. It’s someone’s head. It’s … it’s Broken Sun!”
Pitch couldn’t turn his gaze from it.
Astonishment filled the wide, dead eyes, as though at the very last instant, Broken Sun could not believe what he was seeing.
E
vening Star chafed in the confines of the small lodge Rain Bear had ordered built for her. Round, with a bark roof and walls, it measured but three paces across.
Yesterday afternoon, dour-faced women had brought her supplies: blankets, food, cooking pots, even hair combs and drab but serviceable dresses. She’d stacked everything along the east wall. In the pale amber gleam of the flames, the place looked shabby, rude, and unfamiliar—the sort of thing a hunter would throw up as a temporary shelter.
Her anxious fingers caressed the fine buffalo calf leather of her formal dress. Sense would have dictated that she wear one of the others, but this one reassured her, reminded her of who she was, or at least had been. Dropping another stick of wood on the fire, she stared at the flames. “What am I doing here?”
Her Dreams had been tortured. All night long, she’d run through her burning village trying to find her husband, Toget, and their little daughter, Bright Cloud. Now that she was warm and safe, she couldn’t stop thinking about them. Couldn’t banish the memories of that terrible night. She kept seeing Toget’s head as Ecan lifted it in the light of burning lodges.
The knot of grief in her chest seemed to be strangling her heart.
Her marriage to Toget had been arranged by her clan. They had never really loved each other, but had gotten along given the roles
life had dealt them. He had been a good husband, as dedicated to Bright Cloud as he had been to his sister’s children. She would miss him not as a dead lover, but as the kind man he had been.
She shied away from thoughts of Bright Cloud—tried to block the scream that lingered in her ears. That memory was too painful.
She stared around the dismal little lodge, wondering what had induced her to ask Rain Bear’s protection.
“You should have kept running. You have relatives in the north.” Could she still go? Was that prudent, given the number of Cimmis’s warriors who would be on the trails looking for her?
She dropped her face into her hands. Long red hair fell around her. If she had only known how to find Dzoo. She might have avoided this dangerous and dingy place.
The wind moaned in the trees beyond the lodge. She lifted her head, wondering. Did she dare wait until night to creep away? She could travel north, avoid the war parties and scouts. Perhaps steal a canoe and paddle to some distant island.
“Stop it. You don’t have the strength, and you know it.”
She massaged her tight neck muscles. So much had changed. Two moons ago, she’d been looking forward to the day when her mother stepped down as clan matron and came to live in her lodge. Mother would have cared for Bright Cloud while Evening Star took over her fated clan responsibilities.
Now … none of that would happen.
Evening Star propped her chin on her drawn-up knees and gazed at the painted box of food that rested near the hearth. The box bore the intertwined images of a red killer whale and a blue cougar. Like her, they were animals out of their elements.
Why hadn’t she known that Cimmis was going to attack them? Why hadn’t Mother known? Naida’s web of spies rivaled anything Cimmis could arrange. Surely Mother had heard rumors.
She wouldn’t have believed it, no matter who told her. Cimmis was her brother. She loved him.
Cold hatred spread along her veins.
Cimmis, my uncle … my greatest enemy.
She picked up the wooden comb the women had brought her and began pulling the snarls from her wavy red hair. She’d bathed and washed her hair, but it was still damp and felt cool beneath her fingers.
When she’d finished, she opened the food box to find two neat stacks of dried berry cakes and a wooden cup covered with a bark lid. She bit into one of the cakes. The mixture of blueberry, coastal
red elder, and highbush cranberry tasted delicious. She finished three cakes before she picked up the wooden cup and removed the lid. The rich smell of salmon oil caressed her nose. Taking another bite of the dried, berry cake, she washed it down with a sip of salmon oil. The blend of flavors sent delight through her. The North Wind People made something similar: a dried cake of black huckleberries and bunchberries: they served the dish with warm bear grease. For the moment, this tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten.
Voices rose from outside, and a man called, “Evening Star? It’s Rain Bear. May I speak with you?”
She stood and smoothed her hands over her fancy calfhide dress. Olivella shells gleamed on the bodice, and expensive dentalium ringed the collar. In the fire’s wavering light, the shells glittered. “Come.”
Rain Bear ducked beneath the door hanging and looked around. “Is your lodge satisfactory?”
“More than I deserve, given the animosity between our peoples.” She smiled dryly. “And no matter what, Chief, it beats sleeping under a rotting log while cold rain drips on you.”
Rain Bear gave her a knowing smile. The otterskin cape he wore seemed to have been sculpted over his broad shoulders. Worry carved lines around his deeply set brown eyes. He propped his hands on his hips, revealing the long red shirt beneath. “I spent time last night consulting with the refugee war chiefs and the various elders of their clans.”
“And?”
A derisive smile came to his lips. “Most of them don’t believe you.”
“They think I’m lying to further my own ends?”
“No, they think you’re lying for Cimmis.”
Anger speared her veins. “That’s—that’s ridiculous! Cimmis burned my village and slaughtered my family! Why would I—”
He held up a placating hand. “Please, Matron. I’ve done a good deal of thinking since I first spoke with you. I can find no logical reason why you’d spy for Cimmis.”
But he
had
considered it. She crossed her arms defiantly. “So, you’re making plans to defend yourselves against Ecan’s attack?”
“We are.” But he tilted his head as though uncertain about something. The firelight shone on his high-arching cheekbones and drew a line of gold along his strong jaw. “Before we proceed, however, I have a few more questions.”
She said wearily, “I’ll tell you whatever I know.”
Rain Bear frowned down at the open food box beside the fire. His eyes fixed on the half-empty cup of salmon oil. “Forgive me for disturbing your breakfast. If I could, I would come back later, but I must attend a Council meeting shortly.”
“You are not disturbing me, Chief.” She gestured helplessly at the small lodge. “My universe is no longer the pressing place it used to be.”
He paused. “Did you sleep well?”
“Does knowing how I slept help you defend against Ecan?”
He walked around to stand on the opposite side of the fire, looking suddenly self-conscious. “I just thought you might want to spend a few moments talking about something that didn’t matter.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “Then my nightmares are
not
a good subject. What’s the weather like this morning?”
“Foggy and cold. Not a fit day for humans or animals. Wear your mittens when you go out.”
“I can go outside?” She enjoyed a sudden leap of hope.
“Go anywhere you like. But I want your guards to be close at hand.”
Evening Star arched a challenging eyebrow. “Ah, indeed? Worried about my safety, are we?”
The earnest look he gave her left her oddly unsettled. “Yes, Matron, I am. And not just because some of my people might wish to cause you harm. I suspect that if Ecan can’t take you back by force, the Wolf Tails will be sent sniffing.”
A sudden chill went through her. To change the subject, she said, “Ask your questions, Rain Bear.”
He folded his arms. “You said Ecan had perhaps ten tens of warriors.”
“Yes.”
“He’s split his forces. Eight tens of them are headed toward Antler Spoon’s village. I’ve also heard that Ecan’s son was with the war party.”
“Splitting his forces is a diversion.”
“Perhaps.”
“He must know that I’m here, warning you. It’s a game, Great Chief. Strategy to keep you off your guard.”
“And the boy? Why is he along?”
She seemed puzzled by his concern. “Kenada spoke of that. It’s the boy’s first War Walk. What difference does it make if his son is there?”
He slowly walked around the fire toward her. She tried to read his expression, a combination of unease and hope. “Under the right circumstances, it might make a great deal of difference. How old is the boy?”
Comprehension edged through her. “Ten summers. But Tsauz will be well guarded. I suspect that capturing him will be more difficult than defending your village.”
“Tsauz? That’s his name?”
“Yes.” She gave him a curious look. “He’ll have ten or more guards around him. Do you know why?”
“Because he’s Ecan’s only son, isn’t he?”
“The little boy is blind, Rain Bear.”
“Blind?” His surprise was complete. “Scan took a
blind
boy on a War Walk?”
“Apparently.”
“Why haven’t we heard, this? Surely one of the traders would have mentioned that Ecan’s son was blind?”
“His blindness is recent. He lost his sight in a tragic fire. His mother—and most of her family—was burned to death. That Tsauz was rescued otherwise unharmed by a passing warrior was a miracle.”
Through a long exhalation, he said, “Well, that does complicate matters. What about Ecan? Is there a chance we might be able to capture him? Does he have any curious behaviors, like bathing alone, or walking out by himself for morning prayers?”
“He insists on placing his lodge in the very middle of the camp so that he’s surrounded by warriors, but he only goes alone up the cliffs to deliver the morning prayers because he has to. People hate him, and he knows it.”
Rain Bear seemed to be staring at her hair. At the way the light glittered through it when she moved. Absently, he said, “Every man is vulnerable, Evening Star. Is there anyone else he cares about? Perhaps a relative in one of the nearby North Wind villages?”
She lifted a shoulder, perplexed by the softness in his eyes. “I don’t think so. He seems to hate everyone except his son. And I’m not even sure about that. I’ve heard that he beats the boy.”
As he had beaten her. Evening Star glanced away as a flashback of Ecan stabbed through her memory. She remembered the ripping sound as he tore the fabric dress off her body, and she could feel his hot flesh against hers as he pried her legs apart. Flickers of firelight in her lodge mixed with those of a burning village. An unbidden shiver ran up her spine.
“Matron, I must go, but I thank you for speaking honestly with me.”
She jerked a nod. “If I can be of help again …”
He inclined his head, said, “I will,” and walked for the door.
Thankfully he was gone before her knees went weak and she sagged to the floor. Behind her clamped eyes, memories ran free and terrible.
 
 
R
ain Bear stepped out into the fog and looked around. Bark lodges wavered in the mist. On either side of him, Evening Star’s guards cast curious glances his way. They undoubtedly questioned his sanity for granting asylum to such a potentially dangerous woman.
Although he’d almost convinced himself she wasn’t a spy, he couldn’t be absolutely certain. Was he supposed to be attracted to her? Was that the trap? Well, may Fishing Eagle strike him dead, he was. He just couldn’t get the image of her odd blue eyes out of his head, and he had been dazzled by the firelight shooting burnished copper glints through her luxurious hair. He’d fought with the desire to reach out and touch it. Touch her.
When she moved, he had to make a conscious effort to keep from staring at the way her dress conformed to her round breasts and slim waist. Her soft and slim body had begun to insert itself into his waking Dreams. Those he could control. How long before her image invaded his sleep to tease his manhood?

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