People of the Longhouse(107)

Sindak exhaled hard and got to his feet. “Later,” he said.

He walked up the trail to the east. Only Koracoo’s head moved when she saw him coming. Her black eyes fixed questioningly on him.

Sindak stopped a pace away and folded his arms tightly over his chest. “War Chief, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”





Forty-six

Gonda’s gaze shifted between watching the western trail and watching Sindak and Koracoo. They spoke in low ominous voices twenty paces away. Talking about what? Sindak was supposed to be asleep. Everyone else was dreaming by the fire. Though Towa kept flopping and twitching, the children looked innocent and peaceful.

Gonda checked the western trail again. The wind had blown a thick cloud of smoke over the top of them. There was no light except for that cast by the tiny blaze, and it flickered weakly, on the verge of going out. He couldn’t see more than thirty paces up the trail. If he was going to stop any intruders, he’d have to hear them, not see them. He tried to concentrate on the sounds of the night. Wind sighed through the plum trees, and the few shriveled fruits that clung to the branches rattled. Limbs creaked. Old leaves rustled as they whipped around the forest.

And Koracoo’s soft steps patted the trail behind him.

He turned. Short black hair blew around her cheeks, and he could see the tightness around her dark eyes.

Sindak walked back to the fire and rolled up in his blanket near Towa.

Before Koracoo stopped, he said, “What’s wrong?”

She swung CorpseEye up and rested the club on her shoulder. After she’d ground her teeth for several moments, she said, “Towa thought he saw Atotarho in the warriors’ camp tonight.”

“Impossible. He was mistaken.” Gonda examined her face. “But … you don’t think so, do you?”

“Hehaka told Sindak that his long-lost father owned a gorget like the one Towa wears.”

Gonda shook his head lightly, trying to figure out where she was going. “Who’s his father?”

Koracoo’s gaze lanced straight through him. “The boy is eleven. He was captured when he was four.”

“So, seven summers ago …” He regripped his war club. “What?”

“Sindak told me that’s when Atotarho’s only son was captured in a raid.”

Gonda felt suddenly as though he were floating. “Are you saying … wait … I don’t understand. Are you suggesting that Gannajero is targeting his family? First his son? Now his daughter? Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know, but I have an idea.” She turned toward where Sindak lay rolled in his blanket by the fire. “Let’s go ask some questions.”

Sindak heard them coming and sat up with his blanket still draped over his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Koracoo knelt in front of him. “When we were in your village Atotarho told us a story. He said that when he was a child, his older brother and sister were captured in a raid. Do you know anything about that?”

Sindak shook his head. “No. However, everyone in our village knows that when he was twenty summers, his younger brother and sister, twins, were captured in a raid.”

Gonda glanced at Koracoo. Her eyes had started to blaze. “He lied to us. Koracoo … he lied. What’s he hiding?”

“Sindak, how old were the twins?” Koracoo asked.

Sindak blinked his tired eyes. “Eight summers, I think. It was devastating for his clan. If she’d lived, his sister would have become the most powerful clan matron in our village.”

“What would have happened to Atotarho?” Gonda asked.

“As is customary, he would have married and moved to his wife’s village.”

“And,” Gonda said softly, “the gorget that Towa now wears would have passed to his sister when she became clan matron.”

Sindak’s gaze suddenly darted between Koracoo and Gonda. “Are you suggesting that maybe she did not die?”

Towa had wakened and lay on his back, listening with his dark eyes narrowed. He said, “If she’s alive, why hasn’t she returned home to claim her rightful position among our people?”

Koracoo’s face suddenly went slack, as though a horrifying thought had occurred to her. She slowly rose to her feet and stared down at Sindak. “Maybe that’s why Towa has that gorget. He’s supposed to deliver it to her.”

Gonda, Sindak, and Towa gazed at her in silence.

Across the fire, Odion sat up. He didn’t say a word. He just stared at them as though he finally understood something.





Forty-seven

Green water had been rippling by all night, scalloped here and there with starlit foam that spun off the paddle strokes of the warriors. Gannajero sat in the bow of the lead canoe, snarling at anyone who dared to speak to her.