“Well … no.”
Gonda rolled up the boiling bag and tucked it into his pack. “Did the attack come from the rear?”
“The bulk of the warriors struck the center and stole the chief’s daughter, but at least thirty warriors attacked the rear. Both attacks happened simultaneously.”
Koracoo gracefully rose to her feet, and Gonda stood up beside her. Instinctively, Sindak gripped his club.
In a low voice, probably meant for Gonda’s ears alone, Koracoo said, “It was well organized. That’s why they were chosen.” Then she turned and headed across the clearing toward the place Gonda had indicated earlier, the place where they’d seen the children’s tracks.
Gonda started to follow her, but Towa lunged to his feet and caught Gonda’s arm as he passed. Gonda stopped and, eye-to-eye, they stared hard at each other.
“What did she mean?” Towa asked.
Gonda glanced at Koracoo, apparently to make sure she couldn’t overhear them, then softly replied, “You’re here because you were too far away to have played a role in the kidnapping. You are also young fools. You actually believe Atotarho sent you along with us to help rescue his daughter.”
“Why else would he have sent us?”
Gonda pulled loose from Towa’s grip. “I want you to think long and hard about that.”
He walked away, leaving Sindak and Towa standing by the fire.
Sindak propped his hands on his hips and glowered after Gonda. “You should have slit his throat. He’s an arrogant fool.”
Towa reached up to massage his wounded shoulder. It must have hurt, because he squeezed his eyes closed. In a pained voice, he said, “Gonda is not a fool.”
“Of course he is. The chief sent us to help rescue his daughter. Nothing more.”
Towa adjusted the strap of his quiver and expelled a breath. “Sindak, how many warriors in Atotarho Village are better, more experienced fighters than we are?”
“What difference does it make? The chief chose us.”
“Yes, but why?”
He gestured lamely. “He trusts us.”
Towa murmured, “I don’t think so. I think he chose us because Chief Atotarho fears there’s a traitor in his midst—a very powerful man who has the loyalty of many warriors. But you and I are not among them.”
Sindak shifted his weight to his other foot. “What are you talking about?”
Towa smiled and bowed his head as though surprised it had taken him so long to figure it out. “I’m talking about two young fools who are not part of that ‘inner circle.’ Young fools who still believe what their chief tells them.”
“But if Atotarho doesn’t trust us, why would he give you his sacred gorget? He wouldn’t risk losing that!”
Towa placed his hand over the gorget and looked down. “I don’t understand that part yet.”
“Even if you and I are the only two warriors Atotarho doesn’t suspect of treachery, the gorget is too precious to risk on fools. He must trust us.”
Towa murmured, “It’s possible. But I doubt it,” and walked toward where Koracoo and Gonda knelt, scooping leaves from the trail and piling them to the side.
Sindak stood rigidly for a few moments. If there was a traitor, a man who commanded the loyalty of many warriors, the logical choice was Nesi. But Sindak did not believe Nesi capable of such treachery. He’d fought at Nesi’s side for five summers and seen only an honorable, if touchy, man striving to protect his people. Why would Nesi betray his chief?
“If not Nesi, then who?”
Sindak heaved a frustrated breath and walked toward Towa.
Twenty
Odion
In the dream, I wake to the sound of Father’s hushed voice … .
“I’m going,” he says. “Who will watch your back? There’s no one else—”
“I need you here, Gonda,” Mother answers softly. “I want you to be in charge of defending Yellowtail Village.”
I sleepily blink at the firelight reflecting from the bark walls of the longhouse. Almost everyone else is asleep. Someone close by is snoring softly, and I hear my little cousin, Ganahan, mewling as Aunt Tawi fusses to get her to nurse. Grandmother Jigonsaseh is muttering softly in her dreams. I smile. These are pleasant sounds, the sounds of early morning in the Bear Clan longhouse.
I yawn and roll to my back. Forty hands above me, tied to the roof poles, ears of corn, whole bean plants, pawpaws, squash, and net bags of puffballs and mushrooms hang. They were picked a moon ago and already have the black coating of soot that protects them from mold and insects. Through the smoke holes, I see a few of the campfires of the dead glittering.