People of the Longhouse(48)

Sindak had the overwhelming urge to tear his heart out.

Koracoo swung CorpseEye suggestively, which kept Sindak from carrying out his urge.

She continued, “Atotarho could have hired the finest Traders in the land. He didn’t have to go himself.”

Dawn’s gleam had started to shade the forest, blushing color into the black branches and the autumn leaves that blanketed the ground. As the air warmed, the scents of wet bark and moldering leaf mat grew stronger.

Finally, Towa said, “Perhaps it would help if you understood some things about Chief Atotarho.”

Koracoo nodded. “Anything you can tell me will be helpful.”

“He was once a great warrior, but about ten summers ago his joints began to stiffen.”

“That’s why standing is so difficult for him? I thought it might have been a battle injury.”

“No. Evil Spirits have crept into his joints. When he could no longer serve as a warrior, he became a Trader, and he was very good at it. He loved Trading. I suspect he didn’t think anyone could do a better job. That’s why he didn’t hire Traders. Ever.”

Koracoo continued to eat at a leisurely pace, filling her buffalo horn spoon, putting it in her mouth, chewing. She appeared to be totally absorbed by her own thoughts.

Gonda, on the other hand, was watching them over the rim of his cup, and his eyes had an alert glitter.

Sindak lifted his cup and angrily sucked down the last few bites; then he grabbed up a handful of leaves, wiped out his cup, and stuffed it back in his belt pouch. Koracoo’s questions had him thinking, which he hated. He always got into trouble when he tried to think something out. But … there was something amiss here. Even if Atotarho loved to Trade, he did know how dangerous the trails were. Undertaking the expedition was very perilous. First of all, it left the village with sixty fewer warriors, which meant it was more vulnerable to attack. Second, Atotarho could have waited another moon to undertake the journey. They had enough food for a moon, and raiding always died down in the winter, though the snow also grew deeper. What had been so important about the Trading mission that he felt obliged to risk his daughter’s life, and the lives of sixty warriors?

Towa set his half-finished cup of soup on the ground, as though no longer hungry, and laced his fingers over one knee. After several moments of hesitation, he said, “Let me see if I understand you, War Chief. Are you suggesting that Atotarho wanted his daughter to be captured?”

“That’s the only thing that makes sense to me, Towa.”

“He loved her. Why would he do that?”

Koracoo drank the last dregs from her cup, then turned it upside down on the frosty grass to drain and replied, “I don’t know.”

“When you spoke with him, did he seem genuinely concerned about his daughter?”

“He did. In fact, he seemed terrified for her safety.”

“Then her capture must have been an accident.”

Koracoo didn’t respond.

Gonda asked, “Where was War Chief Nesi when the girl was taken?”

Towa looked at Sindak. When Sindak shrugged and shook his head, Towa replied, “We were under heavy attack. We were trying to stay alive. I don’t know where he was.”

“Under heavy attack?” Gonda unlaced his belt pouch and tucked his cup inside. As he tugged the laces tight again, he frowned. “Who were they? How many warriors did they have?”

“I’m not sure.” Towa glanced at Sindak again, silently asking if he knew.

Sindak said, “Maybe eighty. Maybe one hundred. Some of them were Mountain People, I think. The rest, I don’t know. I didn’t recognize the designs they wore. Why?”

Gonda’s mouth pursed with disdain. He stood, lifted the boiling bag from the tripod, and walked around the fire to empty the final drops into Towa’s cup. “Who was assigned to protect the chief’s family?”

“Nesi and a hand-selected group of warriors.” He picked up his cup again and took another sip.

Gonda said, “How many hand-selected warriors were in Nesi’s group?”

“Five, I think.”

“You think?” Gonda’s brows plunged down over his flat nose. “You’re a warrior. You should know.”

“Well, I don’t,” Towa snapped.

Gonda stared down at him through slitted eyes. “Was the chief at the head of the expedition? Or was he walking in the middle, perhaps at the rear?”

“In the middle where he was surrounded by warriors.”

“And where were you and Sindak?”

“We were last in line.”

“So you didn’t really see much of what happened around the chief’s family?”