Blue Raven gripped Rumbler’s hand harder. To Acorn he said, “What of Skullcap? Is he—”
“Alive,” Acorn responded. “But I don’t know for how long. He’s very ill.”
“I want you to find Bogbean. Tell her to get her Healer’s bag and meet me at Beadfern’s longhouse.”
“Yes, Elder.”
Blue Raven picked up the False Face Child, and rushed up the hill. When he reached the top, he handed the dwarf boy to Frost-in-the-Willows. “Please, Mother, take care of the boy until I’ve had a chance to—”
“I don’t want it!” Frost-in-the-Willows lurched backward. “Get it away from me!”
“Mother, just until I’ve—”
“No!” She slapped at the boy.
Blue Raven pulled Rumbler back and turned to the assembly. “Who will care for the boy while I—”
“I will!” Wren said, shoving through the crowd. “You go and see about Mossybill, Uncle. I’ll watch the False Face Child while you are gone.”
Wren reached out hesitantly as if sticking her hand in a dark hole, and grasped Rumbler’s tiny hand. She looked up at Blue Raven with terrified eyes, but she didn’t let go.
“Thank you, Wren.” Blue Raven set the boy on the ground, and touched Wren’s cheek in pride. “Take him to our longhouse. I’ll send four warriors with you. I will be there shortly.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Blue Raven pointed to four of the older warriors and they fell in around Wren.
She started off fast, then slowed her steps to match Rumbler’s shorter stride. He could hear Wren talking to the boy, her voice shaking.
Blue Raven shouldered past the onlookers and hurried for the gate in the palisade, then trotted across the plaza toward old Beadfern’s longhouse, Mossybill’s wife’s grandmother. The entire village followed behind him, their shuffling feet like the hissing of cougars.
The longhouse sat at the opposite edge of the village, near the northern palisade gate, and the trail that led down to Pipe Stem Lake. Five shadblow trees, ten times the height of a man, created a half-moon behind the house. The short branches formed narrow round-topped heads. Birds perched in the trees, their feathers fluffed for warmth, but none dared chirp with the frenzy in the village below. Several young people and children huddled together outside the longhouse.
Blue Raven walked to the door curtain and called, “Beadfern? It’s Blue Raven. May I enter?”
“Yes! Come!”
Blue Raven stepped into the house. The stench nearly overpowered him, sickly sweet, like a mixture of vomit and long-dried urine. A single fire burned in the middle of the floor, and six people crouched around it, their taut faces gleaming orange. Old Beadfern watched Blue Raven with wide eyes. Near her, two bodies lay covered with hides. Four men and one woman knelt beside the closest man, holding him down while he thrashed and groaned. Only one person sat beside the other man.
Blue Raven strode forward. “What happened?”
Mossybill let out a hoarse cry when he saw Blue Raven, and strings of saliva flew from his mouth. He struggled to sit up, but the four muscular warriors holding his arms and legs forced him down. His wife, Loon, threw herself across Mossybill’s chest, clawing at his arms, weeping. “Talk to me! Mossybill, tell me what happened!”
Mossybill’s glazed eyes darted feverishly, but kept coming back to Blue Raven’s face. He gnashed his teeth, and tossed his head from side to side, as if trying to speak.
Blue Raven knelt by Mossybill’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Mossybill.” He tried to soothe the man. “Bogbean is coming with her Healer’s bag. She’ll be here soon, but we need to know what made you ill, Mossybill. The boy said—”
Mossybill shook his head violently, as if the mention of the False Face Child terrified him. Blue Raven glanced at Loon. “Has he said anything?”
She pressed a hand to her lips to still their trembling, and nodded. “Yes. When he staggered into the longhouse, he said, ‘The boy! The boy!’ That’s all. Then he collapsed on the floor, and I covered him with hides, and sent Acorn for you.”
“Good. That’s what you should have done. I only wish he’d—”
Mossybill lurched against the hands that held him, and snarled like a beast.
Blue Raven tried again. “Mossybill, if you can, tell me about the boy. Did he—”
The scream that erupted from Mossybill’s throat made Blue Raven sit back. Loon started sobbing. Mossybill fought with all his strength, writhing and twisting. Garbled words accompanied the foam that dripped from his jaws: “Boy! Boy!”