“Really?” The rituals that introduced new women to the world were reserved exclusively for women. It was forbidden for a man to ask anything about them—but since he had the opportunity … “What did she say?”
“Faru told me that if I truly wished to unravel the knot in the hearts of men, I had to live their deaths every waking moment.”
Gonda frowned at her. “What does it mean?”
“I’m still working it out. But one thing I know: Every time I look at one of my warriors, I live his death. On the fabric of my souls, I see through his eyes as he’s captured, tortured, killed. It reminds me of my duty to keep him safe.”
“But what does that have to do with unraveling the knot in the hearts of men?”
A faint smile turned her lips. “For most men, the knot is fear. It’s what ties their afterlife souls to their bodies; it keeps them alive. Keeps them sane. If you grasp what a man is afraid of, you can either kill him, or save his life.”
He thought back to their earlier discussion. No wonder she would choose a man who feared her. If that’s what tied his soul to his body, he would follow her orders exactly and come home alive.
A gust of wind penetrated the house, and the lamp’s flame wavered, throwing multiple shadows across the walls and ceiling.
Gonda stared at her. From the first instant he’d fallen in love with her he’d been doing the reverse: He’d been dying her life. She had endured so much, lost so many loved ones, and suffered greatly while serving as war chief. For the past thirteen summers, every shimmer of tears in her eyes had been a little death for him.
He said, “What are you afraid of, Koracoo?”
She cocked her head as though she couldn’t believe he had asked. “You know my fears.”
“A few of them, yes, but I don’t know the fear that ties your soul to your body.”
Koracoo opened her mouth to respond, but hushed voices erupted outside.
Chief Atotarho’s voice ordered, “Open the door, Sindak.”
The locking plank thudded as it was lifted, and the door swung open. Grandmother Moon’s gleam was so bright Gonda had to squint against it.
Atotarho stepped inside. The circlets of human skull on his black cape shimmered. He appeared wide awake. Perhaps he hadn’t slept at all since they’d seen him last.
“I understand that you have decided to accept my offer.”
Koracoo replied, “Yes, Chief. And we would like to leave as soon as you can arrange it.”
The lines around Atotarho’s eyes deepened. He nodded. “I will be sending two men with you. It will take them perhaps a half-hand of time to gather their things.”
Koracoo dipped her head. “We’ll be ready.”
Atotarho stepped outside again, and the door swung closed.
The warriors went silent, as though waiting for the chief to speak.
Atotarho said, “Sindak, Towa, you will both be accompanying War Chief Koracoo and Deputy Gonda. Gather whatever you will need. Then I want Towa to meet me at my longhouse as soon as possible.”
The chief’s steps softly moved away.
After another twenty heartbeats, Sindak hissed, “Blessed Spirits! Why us?”
“Oh, stop it. You’re not the one he asked to meet him at his longhouse,” Towa said. “I wonder what he wants?”
The two other warriors chuckled, and it sounded like men slapping each other on the backs. “Lucky you,” someone said. “You have the chance to prove your valor to your chief in a way few men ever have.”
“What are you talking about, you imbecile? If we fail, he’ll roast us alive and eat us.”
“I want your liver,” another man said drily.
Sindak replied, “That’s not funny, Akio.”
Towa said, “Come on. We don’t have much time to get ready.”
Two men trotted away, and the new guards took up their positions on either side of the door. They continued to chuckle. Akio whispered, “Gods, I’d hate to be them.”
Koracoo smiled wryly, walked to the wall, and sank down. As she leaned back against it, she closed her eyes, trying to get a few last moments of rest.
Gonda knelt in front of the oil lamp and held his cape open over the flame, letting the heat rise up and warm the inside of the buckskin.
Softly, Koracoo said, “I fear the same thing you do, Gonda—that I will fail to protect my family.”
His hands quaked. He lowered his cape and let the warmth seep into his flesh while he squeezed his eyes closed. He tried not to sound like he was strangling when he asked, “Blessed gods, how did you know that was my greatest fear?”
The smiling faces of Odion and Tutelo reared inside him, and he longed to get up and run back to the place where he’d seen the children’s moccasin tracks.