People of the Masks(164)
Jumping Badger shoved the staff into the ground, and jerked out one of the stilettos made from the murdered baby’s leg bones. Panic seared his veins. He screamed, “You joined the army of ghosts, is that it?”
Voices hissed at him, coming from the waves, and the wind. Laughter and shrieks.
There were so many of them now! Hundreds!
He clenched the stiletto in his sweaty fist. “Well, come on! Come after me. I’m here! Right here! Let us end this!”
Elk Ivory came up beside him. She wore the heavy buffalo coat. Its lower half, once painted with green hawks, had turned solid black from Blue Raven’s blood. Her eyes bored into him as she gripped Jumping Badger’s shoulder and shoved him backward.
“Have you lost your souls?” she demanded to know. “Or did you just decide to tell everyone in Sleeping Mist that we are here and about to attack them again?”
Jumping Badger blinked and stumbled. The ghosts had vanished. His eyes searched the sand and sky.
Elk Ivory’s fist slammed his shoulder. The nostrils of her broad flat nose flared. “Are you able to lead this attack, Jumping Badger? Do you wish me to—”
“I wish you to shut up, old woman!”
Jumping Badger sucked in a breath. All day she had found things to slow him down, nonexistent tracks in the woods, fire pits days old, snapped twigs and white fox hairs that she claimed must have been left by the Turtle Nation people. Each required attention. Each cost him time.
When all this was over, he promised himself, he would find a way. He couldn’t kill her outright. Not and maintain his position as war leader. The matrons wouldn’t stand for it. He needed a reason. Rides-the-Bear and Shield Maker hated her, too. Together, they would concoct something. Plant evidence of treason in her bedding.
Elk Ivory turned, and her gaze affected him like a blow to the head, numbing his senses. “The village is close,” she said. “What now, War Leader?”
Rides-the-Bear moved up behind Jumping Badger. Sweat beaded his ugly triangular face. He ran his tongue through the gaps created by his missing canine teeth, and glared at Elk Ivory.
In response, Acorn and Buckeye came forward to stand at Elk Ivory’s shoulders. Little Wren, her hands tethered to Acorn’s belt, immediately dropped to the ground, trembling from fatigue. Long black hair fell around her face.
The burly Acorn looked diminutive next to Buckeye. The giant towered over them all, forcing Jumping Badger to look up into his squinted eyes. Two short braids framed Buckeye’s heavily scarred face.
“They can’t see us,” Buckeye whispered, “but they know we are here. Should we abandon the attack?”
Acorn rubbed the bristly ridge of hair that ran down the middle of his head—a nervous habit that irritated Jumping Badger. Acorn said, “Something’s wrong. The dogs should have scented us long before the … the noise. We haven’t even heard a bark.”
“No, we haven’t,” Elk Ivory whispered, and her face tensed. “War Leader, I suggest—”
Rides-the-Bear interrupted, saying, “We should spread out, War Leader, and surround the village as we did last time.”
“No,” Elk Ivory said. “We can’t risk thinning our forces. We don’t know what we might be facing. If we divide—”
“We can cover more ground,” Jumping Badger said. “The weak survivors of this village can’t put up much of a fight, old woman.” He looked up at the masked head of Lamedeer, and frowned. The dead man had been strangely silent for the past few hands of time. The crow’s-head mask shimmered wetly in the diffused light. “I think we should send out warriors in groups of two. That will give us six groups to surround the village, plus one larger group to enter from this trail.”
Acorn tugged on the rope fastened to his belt, and Little Wren glanced up. Misery twisted her dirty face. “What shall we do with the girl, War Leader?”
The useless prisoner bit her lip, waiting as if for a sentence of death.
Jumping Badger said, “Elk Ivory will guard her.”
Elk Ivory peered at him with dark sober eyes. She knew as well as he that with the girl around her neck, and no warriors at her shoulders, she had meager chances of surviving. Jumping Badger smiled.
Acorn said, “Why can’t we just tie the girl to a tree somewhere, and come back for her later? Wasting Elk Ivory’s skills is—”
“No.” Elk Ivory nodded to Acorn. “Untie the girl. I’ll take her.”
Acorn gave Elk Ivory an imploring glance, but did as she’d instructed, drawing his knife and cutting the rope from his belt. He handed the frayed end to Elk Ivory.