“Understood,” Deru said.
“Yes, Matron.” Wampa nodded respectfully to her, and wearily walked toward the ladders.
Deru gave Jigonsaseh a quizzical look. “What about you? Are you planning on sleeping any time soon?”
They’d been friends for twenty summers. He knew how she thought. “We’ve seen some terrible battles together, haven’t we?”
“Don’t try to distract me. You have to sleep.”
“I will. I give you my oath. There’s just … much to be done. What kind of shifts are you planning for your warriors?”
Deru used his bow to scratch his chin. “I’ll have blankets brought up to them. They can sleep on the catwalks. But I was thinking I’d keep one hundred on duty at all times.”
“Good.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “You were brilliant tonight, War Chief. The way you targeted the piles of debris in the plaza, then when Negano’s forces arrived and you hit them squarely the instant they rounded the palisade wall…” A proud smile twisted her lips. “No one could have done it better.”
He nodded briefly. He’d always been uncomfortable with praise. “Every warrior, even the children, performed exceptionally. They know the survival of our nation is at stake.”
Deru seemed to be considering his next words. Finally, he said, “I was just wondering what you plan to do about Sindak?” He gazed at her through slitted eyes, as though he expected to be reprimanded for asking.
“What do you mean?”
“He disobeyed your direct orders. You told Sindak and the others to leave the wounded behind and get back to the gates as soon as they could. Even though everything worked out, it sets a bad example.”
“Worried that other warriors may now think they can disobey me, too?”
“Our warriors, no.” He shook his head. “But his?”
If Sindak’s warriors disobeyed her at a critical moment…? If Sindak was close at hand, she’d no doubt they’d obey him. But what if Sindak wasn’t at hand?
“You’re right, Deru. I’ll speak with Sindak about it.”
“Thank you, Matron.”
As she walked away, heading for the Bear Clan longhouse, she pulled CorpseEye from her belt.
Thirty
Seething, Atotarho gripped his walking stick, longing to use it as a club. He glared at Negano and Nesi as they strode toward his camp on the hilltop. Both men kept coughing, their lungs struggling to get rid of the thick acrid smoke they’d inhaled at Yellowtail Village. The gaudy glare cast by the fires illuminated their tall, muscular bodies. Gray ash coated their shoulders and hair, and filled the lines in their faces, making both appear to be much older men.
Atotarho’s jaw hurt from clenching his teeth. War Chief Negano hadn’t looked at him yet. The man had seen thirty-two summers pass—many as the head of Atotarho’s personal guards. He had little actual battlefield experience. Elevating him to his current position had, perhaps, been a grave error.
When the two men arrived at his fire, Nesi dipped his head respectfully to Atotarho, and split off from Negano, leaving the war chief to face Atotarho alone.
Negano stiffened his spine, and braced his feet. “My Chief, I—”
“How did it happen?” Atotarho asked in a chilling voice.
“No one knows yet. Tomorrow, we will question the survivors. All I can say is that Joondoh must have missed something.”
Atotarho repositioned his walking stick and gripped the antler head with both hands. His knees and hips throbbed in agony. “Is he dead?”
“I haven’t seen him, so I assume he is.”
“Well, then, he’s lucky, isn’t he?”
Negano’s eyes tightened. He did not look away, which demonstrated true bravery … or perhaps foolishness. He coughed again, then choked out the words, “Joondoh was a loud-mouthed fool. I should never have placed him in charge of the Yellowtail defense.”
“It’s a little late to realize that.”
“Yes, my Chief.” Negano sounded truly apologetic, almost obsequious.
“How many did we lose?”
Negano started to answer, but bent forward suddenly, hacking and wheezing for several moments before he gained control again. A shiver ran through him.
“Forgive me.” He straightened to his full height, but his expression was that of a man fighting a sudden and consuming nausea. “The fires were so intense and the smoke so thick we couldn’t count tonight. However, maybe around six hundred fifty. Perhaps a few more.”
“Six hundred…!” Atotarho’s veins seemed to be on fire. “You killed one-third of our forces?”