People of the Black Sun(145)

And now … now …

She reached beneath his hides to squeeze his warm hand, and sighed.

Across the fire, Towa and Sindak carried on a quiet conversation with Gonda and Hiyawento. To Gonda’s left, Tutelo listened. Occasionally, Tutelo’s young daughters asked her some question. Baji barely noticed when a messenger arrived from the darkness requesting to speak with Sindak, and he rose and walked away.

She concentrated on stroking Dekanawida’s hand. He’d been drifting from consciousness to unconsciousness throughout the night. Each time he opened his milky eye, he gave her a faint smile, and glanced down to make certain that Gitchi still slept on the soft blanket at the bottom of his litter. The old wolf always wagged his tail when Dekanawida woke and looked at him. As Dekanawida sank into sleep again, Gitchi’s luminous gaze returned to Baji, and his heart shone out of his eyes, as hers did when she looked at him.

Sindak returned to the fire, and said, “That messenger was from the Ruling Council of the reunited Hills nation. They ordered Negano to use his forces to help us. He was so thankful I thought he was going to faint. His warriors now consider him a great hero.”

Gonda replied, “I’m sure he thought he was going to be executed as a traitor … along with you.”

“He wasn’t the only one who thought that,” Sindak replied. “Gods, I hope the Landing People join us.”

Towa’s long braid sawed across his cape as he turned to stare at Sindak in disbelief. “Are you joking? Of course, they will join us. Look at the Landing People below! Once Sky Messenger’s followers return to Shookas Village and tell their stories of what happened today, how can they refuse?”

Sindak paused as though wondering. “Do you think the same will be true of the Mountain People?”

There was a moment of rustling shirts and shifting feet as they all turned to look northward to where Chief Atotarho and Chief Wenisa were being held in a heavily guarded camp. A small spruce-bough structure had been thrown up beside a campfire. Guards passed back and forth in front of the flames.

Gonda said, “I know Sky Messenger ordered that we release both chiefs, but I plan to spend some time talking to them before we do that.”

Towa added, “I’m no longer worried about Atotarho. High Matron Zateri and the Ruling Council will tend to him. But Wenisa is another question, I—”

“He won’t be a problem,” Hiyawento said. His eyes still glistened. A strange peace had come over him. “It will be the same thing as with the Landing People. By the time he gets back to his village, his warriors will have been there for a full day telling their stories. The Mountain People’s Ruling Council will have already made up its mind.”

They all went silent, staring at the fire. Tutelo’s youngest daughter, perhaps five summers, whispered something to her, and Tutelo kissed the little girl’s head and hugged her.

“Baji?” Dekanawida breathed her name, and exhaled a shallow breath.

“I’m right here. I’ve been here all along.” Baji laced her fingers with his, and a sensation of contentment filtered through her. He weakly squeezed her hand back.

“… I know.”

Hiyawento saw them speaking, and said, “Baji, ask Sky Messenger if he’s hungry or thirsty. We have plenty…”

A commotion suddenly rose from below. People ran across the meadow, and the singing stopped. Curious voices rose to replace it. Someone shouted. From the east, a large party, perhaps five hundred warriors, trotted into the firelight. Near the front, four warriors carried a man on a litter.

“Is that Chief Cord?” Hiyawento asked.

Baji’s gaze longingly clung to her father as he was carried toward Bur Oak Village.

Gonda said, “Yes, it’s the Flint war party. Let’s go greet them. The Ruling Council is going to ask Cord to address the entire village.”

He’ll tell the story of the ambush at Rocky Meadows.

Baji’s hands trembled.

Out in the trees the lonesome howls and the drumming of partridge wings were growing stronger, getting closer. Somewhere very near, just beyond the circle of firelight, deer hooves crackled through piles of old leaves, kneading the ground as though anxious to be on their way.

Dekanawida seemed to sense her tension. He opened his right eye, and peered up at her through the milky haze. As she leaned over him, making sure he could see her, her long black hair tumbled around his face. In the firelight, his eyes had a sheen like tears. “Not yet … please … stay?”

She blinked down through suddenly blurry eyes. “Do you hear them?”

“I’ve heard them … off and on … all day.”