People of the Longhouse(33)

I do not know what to say to this. Our people have a legend that foretells the coming of a half-man half-Spirit False Face. It is prophesied that he will don a cape of white clouds and ride the winds of destruction across the land, wiping evil from the face of Great Grandmother Earth. We have to memorize the story by the time we’ve seen eight summers.

Tutelo makes a strange hiss, like a snake. It startles me. I stare down at her. As Grandmother Moon continues her journey above the branches, a silver slash paints the middle of Tutelo’s pretty face, leaving one eye in darkness and the other glowing like a frosty ball of ice.

She hisses again.

“What are you doing?”

Tutelo presses her forehead against my arm. “He told me I must never cry, or they’ll kill me.” But with tears in her voice, she says, “Do you know that clouds cry in the voice of the rain?”

A curious numbness spreads through me. These are not her words. Where did she hear them? From one of the other children? I haven’t seen her speaking with anyone. We are all so frightened, we’ve spoken very little, and we are never together during the day. Gannajero sends one or two of us off with different warriors; then we meet again at nightfall. I don’t even know the names of most of the captives.

“Rain,” she says in a hiss.

And I realize, finally, that the hiss is not a snake sound. It’s rain falling through the forest.

“Are you a cloud, Tutelo?”

She nods.

I kiss her forehead. She has found a way to cry without being beaten. I wrap my arms around my sister and hold her tightly.





Thirteen

Sindak spread his feet and yawned. Grandmother Moon stood straight overhead. Their watch was almost over. Akio and Ober should be coming to replace them soon. He let his gaze drift over the silvered darkness that cloaked Atotarho Village. The warriors on the palisade catwalk resembled slender pillars of moonlight. Twenty paces away, a happy dog trotted through the night with a half-chewed packrat dangling from his jaws.

Towa whispered, “Where are Akio and Ober? They should be here by now.”

“Akio is probably sound asleep. You know how he is. All he does is eat and sleep.”

“Yes, but Ober takes responsibility seriously. And one of them better get here soon, or I’m going to faint from hunger. Do you realize we haven’t had supper?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry? When I knew I was going to be on sentry duty today, I stuffed my belt pouch with food.” He untied the laces on his pouch and pulled it open.

Towa leaned sideways to look inside. His waist-length black hair swung out like a dark curtain. “What did you bring?”

Sindak pulled out jerked venison, wild rice cakes—hard enough to cause brain injury if thrown—and a chunk of half-rancid bear fat. He tore off a piece of jerky, worked it into a gummy mass, then used his teeth to rip off a hunk of bear fat.

Towa winced. “I can smell that fat from here. It’s gone bad. Don’t eat that.”

“It just smells bad. It tastes fine.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“My wife used to say that.”

“Please, do not tell me why.”

Sindak knelt, picked up a rock, and smashed the rice cake to bits. He scooped up the crumbs and ate them. Around a mouthful, he said, “If you chew these up together, it tastes a little like quality aged pemmican. I discovered that one night on guard duty.”

Towa’s brows lifted. “You are truly the bravest man I know.”

Sindak grinned and handed him a piece of jerky. “Here. Try it. Eat the jerky first.”

“No, thanks.”

“Then you are not starv—”

Sindak straightened when he saw Akio and Ober emerge from the Wolf Clan longhouse. Ober towered over the pudgy Akio. Both wore knee-length capes and carried war clubs. He could hear them talking softly.

“It’s about time,” Towa said. “I’m tired.”

“How can you even think about sleeping? That story about Gannajero will keep me awake for days. I’m going to go back to my longhouse, wake everyone, and find out what each person knows about her.”

“That should make you a hero with your relatives.”

“Well, think about this: If Gannajero is bold enough to steal Chief Atotarho’s daughter, she is bold enough to steal anyone’s.”

“I doubt Gannajero knows that Zateri is Atotarho’s daughter. She probably doesn’t ask who the children are or where they’re from.”

“Why not? That could be useful information. There could be rewards out for a child’s safe return.”

“I suspect no reward can rival what she earns from allowing outcasts to mistreat them.”