“My Chief, I hope you will take into account that I was not personally in charge of the Yellowtail defense. If I had been—”
“Do you think it makes me feel better that more than six hundred warriors would be alive if you’d had the good judgment to lead the defense yourself?”
Negano swallowed hard, but said nothing. Was he searching for a response?
“Answer me!”
Negano spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “In the future, I will not trust such situations to anyone else. I will assume the duty myself.”
Atotarho gritted his teeth and looked out over the camp. No one slept. Every warrior who could stand was on his feet talking. The drone of their voices had a low angry timbre. Their discontent had been growing. Every day his warriors seemed a little more surly and rebellious. As the scent of their friends’ and relatives’ rotting bodies strengthened, more and more people clamored to go home. Their truculence would be worse after tonight. Much worse.
Atotarho’s eyes slid back to Negano. “I saw the hunting parties return today. How much food did they shoot?”
“Not much, my Chief. Bur Oak Village has been here a long time. All of the nearby game was hunted out long ago. Tomorrow I’ll dispatch more hunting parties to go further a field, hoping—”
“How much food did today’s party shoot?” he repeated with lethal exactness.
Negano clenched his fists at his sides. “Enough to feed our army for two days.”
Atotarho’s grip tightened on his walking stick, as though strangling the life from it. “And what do you think High Matron Kittle is doing right now?”
He appeared mystified by the shift in subjects. “I—I can’t say.”
“Well, I can. She’s a leader. She’s out stripping the bodies of our dead for food and weapons. She’s refilling every empty pot and bag with water.” His voice went hoarse with restrained emotion. “Now she has another three or four days that she did not have this morning. The spirits of her villagers are running high. My hopes of starving her out in less than one-quarter moon are gone.” He extended a finger that resembled a knobby twig and stabbed it at Negano’s chest. “Because of you.”
In an unnaturally high voice, Negano said, “Chief, as I said, I know I am at fault. If possible, I would like to discuss our attack plan for tomorrow. We need to take our revenge quickly. To hearten our warriors. If we do not, I fear—”
“Tell me your plan.” Atotarho lowered his hand to grip his walking stick again. “It had better be good, War Chief.”
Thirty-one
As the garish halo of firelight swelled over Bur Oak Village, the longhouses turned burnt orange and seemed to slip in and out of existence, light then dark, as though tugged at by the winds of nothingness.
In the shifting smoke, Jigonsaseh found Sindak standing to the left of the Bear Clan longhouse porch, speaking with his warriors. He’d lost four in the battle, and another five had been wounded. Thirty-one crowded around him, their expressions somber. Distinctive clan symbols decorated their painted capes. She could make out the wings of the Hawk Clan, bear claws for the Bear Clan, and interlocking green-and-blue rectangles for the Snipe Clan. All had mourning hair. Sindak had not yet changed out of the clothes he’d worn in the marsh. His black shirt clung wetly to his body; wet clothing made a warrior’s movements awkward, sluggish.
Jigonsaseh walked up behind him, gripped CorpseEye, and in one powerful swing, struck Sindak in the backs of the knees. He landed with a grunt that knocked the breath out of him. She didn’t give him time to respond, but leaped on top of him, straddling him, with CorpseEye jammed down across his throat.
Shocked cries of outrage erupted from his men. Several jerked stilettos and clubs from their belts.
Sindak’s eyes widened when he looked up at her, then widened even more at something over her shoulder. He choked out, “No! Lower your weapons!”
She allowed Sindak to push the club away from his throat enough that he could speak, and he casually asked, “Have I done something to offend you, Matron?”
“I gave you a direct order that anyone who fell behind was to be left behind. No trying to rescue friends. I told you I didn’t need dead heroes, I needed living fighters. Yet you went back for Gonda.”
“I apologize. It was arrogant of me, not to mention dangerous and stupid. In this village, you give the orders.”
She paused with her eyes narrowed. “You practiced that, didn’t you?”
“Well, I knew I was going to have to use it at some point.”
Jigonsaseh climbed off him and rose. Sindak’s warriors’ expressions were a combination of indignation, disbelief, and killing rage. She watched them from the corner of her eye. In a voice filled with deepest respect, the kind of respect she reserved only for her own war chiefs, she said, “Sindak you are one of the finest warriors I’ve ever known, but if you ever disobey my orders again, it will be the last time.” She tied CorpseEye to her belt, and extended a hand to him.