“And we will meet them after ensuring that Pearl and the Water Fox didn’t double back.” Grizzly Tooth thought about it. “It will work. Even with the survivors we find. If we do this correctly, we can still win.”
“Exactly.” Wolf of the Dead grinned to cover the futility that drained his soul. “What other choice do we have? The Ilini must think that our warriors survived—and that we’ll be coming back.”
Grizzly Tooth watched the water with dull eyes. “It’s my fault. I brought Pearl upriver.”
“No, my friend.” Wolf of the Dead placed a hand on his blood kin’s shoulder. “You did as I asked. We’ll survive this.
The Ilini told us that this Water Fox is headed for a place called the Roaring Water, on the eastern side of the Fresh Water Sea.
We’ll follow him there and kill him and the woman. On the way, back, we’ll do a little raiding, accumulate all the wealth and slaves we can handle, and return. That way, the Ilini will see triumph—and we can tell them that our warriors are holding new lands that we have taken on the other side of the Fresh Water Sea.”
Grizzly Tooth was playing with the sand again, scooping it up and letting it run through his fingers like escaping dreams.
“Do you really think it will work?”
“We must hope so. I can’t see any alternative.”
Grizzly Tooth threw his last handful of sand down and stood, smacking the clinging grains from his legs. “Then come, let us build a signal fire. Any survivors will be looking for that. To keep the damage to a minimum, we will tell those who arrive that others have already gone on. As long as we keep them from panicking, we can maintain our leadership.”
Wolf of the Dead nodded and took one last look at the shining water. How could that smooth body of water have betrayed him and his people so thoroughly?
“Do the ghosts of my drowned warriors look up as I am looking down? Do they weep?” As I shall one day weep … unless I can avenge their deaths.
Otter had awakened several times during the day to stare around with a half-opened eye and then drop back into exhausted slumber, reassured that everything was all right. He’d resettled several times, cramped on the wedged packs but fully aware of Pearl’s warm body conformed to his body. All else had faded into the oblivion of a man too long pushed to the edge of his endurance.
When the wind had finally dropped and the water had turned from terrifying to simply unsettling, he and Pearl had taken shelter under a blanket while the unabated rain continued to fall.
Relentless lightning flickered through the clouds before thunder rolled across the sundered heavens. Arms around each other in camaraderie, laughing about the danger and the fear they’d shared, they’d nodded off to the staccato of drops on the blanket and the whisper of rain on the waters.
Otter’s bladder finally forced him to full wakefulness. He yawned and ran his tongue around his mouth. The taste reminded him of moldy, mouse-soiled blankets left too long on the dirt floor of an abandoned hut.
What a vile thought! But, Otter, isn’t it great to be alive to think it? He chuckled at himself, gazing at the marred gunwale of his canoe. The cypress wood had been bumped and bruised over the years by countless impacts of the paddle. Nevertheless, his sturdy canoe had survived its greatest trial. He reached out to run gentle ringers along the wood. Did he sense the canoe’s satisfaction?
Pearl stirred in his arms, and he paused to stare up at an evening sky. Scattered clouds were scudding to the east. In the bow, Black Skull paddled mechanically, heading eastward, and the Contrary lay curled on the packs. Catcher slept in the hollow of Green Spider’s stomach.
Otter spun a strand of Pearl’s hair between his fingers. How soft it felt after the rain. Her smell was pleasant, that of a healthy woman. For the moment, he could imagine savoring that scent for the rest of his life. He could enjoy all of this, the rocking of the boat, the feel of the woman against him. The satisfaction of having shared danger and, together, having triumphed.
He recalled how she’d laughed in defiance, daring the storm.
How she’d whooped when Wave Dancer dropped into the depths, to splash and rise again. Sne’d saved them all. Her knowledge of deep water and sv.-e-Is, her skill and resources, had kept him f, :,m making mistakes that would have swamped them in the cb-x. less.
Pearl, you don’t know what a wonderful gift you gave me last night.
An old, farr. iiiar sensation, that of contentment, lingered in his breast. He hadn’t felt this way since his early days—days on the river with Uncle. Since Uncle’s death, that sense of ac550 Kathleen O’Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear complishment had been but a shadow. Now it burned bright again. They’d beaten the storm! He wanted to laugh, to shout with joy, but instead, he kept it all hidden—a secret exultation saddened only by the speculation that when she awoke, that special camaraderie they’d shared in the midst of the storm would have evaporated like the puddled water on the packs.