People of the Masks(24)

Blue Raven smiled. “I know a wonderful canyon where the Echoers shout back and forth five times or more. I used to go there as a boy, to talk with them. Would you like to go?” He extended his hand again, leaning out as far as he could without risking doom. “I would be happy to take you. You will be surprised by the voices you hear. Each of the Spirits has a different tone of voice, like the unique sounds made by moving your fingers over the holes in a flute.”

Rumbler bit his lip. After a long while, he slid his bound feet toward Blue Raven.

“Good. That’s good. Don’t look down.”

The boy inched closer, his whole misshapen body trembling.

“Don’t be frightened. You are doing well. I can almost reach you.”

When the boy came within range, Blue Raven grabbed for his left hand, and Rumbler let out a small cry of pain or fear.

“I have you! It’s all right.”

As Blue Raven scanned the boy’s wrists, he understood Kit’s fatal decision. The ropes had cut deep gashes just above the boy’s hands. Shadow Spirits had been feeding upon the flesh, leaving festering trails of infection. Rumbler’s bound legs looked just as bad, bloody and swollen. The sight pained Blue Raven. How could two grown men do this to a child of nine winters? If they had been that frightened of this little boy, their presences shamed the Walksalong War Society! They should be driven out as cowards!

“I won’t let you fall, Rumbler,” he said gently. “Slide your feet closer a bit at a time, just work your way to me. I need to cut off those leg ropes.”

Rumbler’s black eyes narrowed, as if searching for trickery.

“I am reaching inside my cape to pull my knife from its sheath. I don’t want you to be concerned. I am only going to use it to cut your bonds. Do you understand?”

Blue Raven moved slowly, lifting the gray chert knife toward Rumbler’s legs. He sawed through the knot and the ropes fell away, plummeting toward the floor.

A small sigh of relief escaped Rumbler’s throat.

“There,” Blue Raven said. “Moving should be easier now. Come. We’ll climb down and find a warm fire to sit by.”

Rumbler tentatively reached out again, and Blue Raven grasped a tiny freezing hand.

“Good. Thank you, Rumbler.”

As he came closer, Blue Raven slipped an arm around the boy’s waist, and pulled Rumbler onto his hip.

“Hold tight as we climb down, you understand?”

The boy nodded.

Blue Raven began the descent. On the third rung, Rumbler buried his face in the folds of Blue Raven’s cape, hiding his eyes.

“We are doing well,” Blue Raven soothed. “Don’t be afraid.”

In response, Rumbler frantically groped through the opening in Blue Raven’s cape and grabbed a fistful of blue shirt.

When he stepped onto solid ground, Blue Raven said, “You can look now. See? I told you we wouldn’t fall,” and he set Rumbler on the floor.

The boy’s injured legs shook. He seemed to be trying to still the tremor by tightening his muscles, but it did little good. Finally, he spread his feet to brace himself. After several deep breaths, he bravely asked, “What will you do with me now?”

“I will take you to my longhouse. Where is your cape? Or did the warriors give you a blanket to keep you warm?”

Rumbler tucked a shaking finger into the corner of his mouth. As he sucked, an expression of solace slackened his features. Around his finger, he slurred, “I had only my shirt.”

“Surely the men who captured you gave you something to wear for the long journey.”

Rumbler shook his head. “They gave me nothing. No food, or water. They feared me. The second night, when we made camp, I told them I was going to kill them. After that, they didn’t wish to touch me.”

Blue Raven removed his own cape and draped it around Rumbler’s shoulders. “They had orders to take good care of you, Rumbler. They will be punished for their foolishness. I assure you.”

He tied the cape’s laces beneath the boy’s chin. “I think this will work.” Two hands’ worth of hem dragged the floor. “You might have to pull up the hem when you walk, so as not to trip over it, but at least you will be warm.”

Rumbler clutched the cape, and stood silently, watching Blue Raven. Finally, in a soft voice, he said, “I grant you your life.”

Blue Raven inclined his head in amused gratitude, but he felt oddly vulnerable. “I appreciate that, Rumbler. Are you ready?”

The boy turned to White Kit. He pulled a wet finger from his mouth and pointed. “She made sounds. Like the crackle of the night sky when the stars fall down.”

Blue Raven frowned. “Her voice crackled, you mean? Yes. She had seen almost seventy winters—”