People of the Masks(39)
The only feeling in her entire body was the powerful, rhythmic slamming of her heart. “I’m not going anywhere!” She took a step backward. “Except home!”
He lowered his hand to his side. “I’m sorry, Wren. Truly. I cannot stop it now. You will come with me. Power has chosen.”
Fear gripped her by the throat.
The boy took a step, spread his arms to her, and his chest wounds broke open. Blood poured over his stomach and down his legs. “It will be easier on you if you come now. Please come.”
Wren threw down her water bag and ran with all her might, screaming, “Uncle Blue Ra-a-ven!”
Blue Raven ducked into his mother’s longhouse, and gazed at the central fire where Frost-in-the-Willows, Starflower, Bogbean, and Beadfern sat on thick piles of hides. Beadfern wore a buckskin cape. The other elders had blankets around their shoulders. Starflower’s was red, Bogbean’s had blue and black stripes, and his mother wore a solid cream-colored blanket. Jumping Badger paced before them.
Blue Raven regarded his cousin for a moment. About half Blue Raven’s age, he had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His arm muscles bulged through the finely tanned buckskin shirt he wore. Long jet-black hair hung loosely over his shoulders, glinting in the firelight. He had a strong face, with a chiseled jaw, and dark eyes. He’d been married once. Nine winters ago. The only reminder was a white ridge of scar tissue across his throat. His wife’s blade had missed the major arteries. In the chaos of screams and blood, she’d fled. No one had ever heard from her again. Blue Raven had always thought that poor Hollow Hill had been the true victim. She had lost everything. Even her family.
As he strode forward, Blue Raven said, “Greetings, Matrons, cousin.”
Frost-in-the-Willows turned to look at him. “Have you heard about your niece?”
Blue Raven frowned. “No. Where is she? I thought she was here with you.”
“Bogbean caught her in another fight.”
“Oh, not again,” Blue Raven said with a deep sigh. Wren never seemed to learn. “What was her punishment?”
“Bogbean ordered her to carry all of our water bags down and fill them in Pipe Stem Lake. That should take a while. She’s been lazy this quarter moon. I suspect she had eight or ten to fill.”
“Well, we’ll discuss it later.” Blue Raven stopped and stood before the fire, across from Jumping Badger. “Are you well, cousin?”
“I am alive,” Jumping Badger replied, “which is more than I can say for Mossybill and Skullcap. Where is the child?”
“Staked out beneath the Sunshine Boy, but I am not certain he is to blame for their deaths. This is something we must discuss, after we talk about Paint Rock Village.”
“It was a great success,” Jumping Badger said and massaged his forehead as if fatigued. “There is little to tell. We attacked, stole the child, and burned the village. I—”
“You also hunted down the survivors. Or so Mossybill said. Is it true?”
Jumping Badger turned, and his eyes narrowed. “Yes. It was a small task. There weren’t very many.”
A grisly head leaned on a pole at the end of the longhouse. The stench filled the air. Blue Raven’s gaze locked with his cousin’s. “On what authority did you do this? I do not recall the matrons telling you to kill everyone in Paint Rock Village.”
“Did you want them here, cousin?” Jumping Badger asked. “In our village with their bows drawn? If a single person had been left to pursue us, don’t you think they would have? Which of your relatives would you have dead because they tried to rescue the False Face Child? Eh? Name him, or hold your tongue!”
“I—”
Starflower held up a hand. “Please. Blue Raven, take your seat beside your mother. Jumping Badger, sit here beside me. Have a cup of mint tea.” She gestured to the pot hanging from the tripod at the edge of the flames. Extra cups rested near the hearthstones. “This has been a long day for all of us.”
Blue Raven calmly lowered himself next to Frost-in-the-Willows, and watched Jumping Badger crouch beside Starflower. The man’s gaze had turned icy.
Blue Raven took one of the cups and dipped it full of tea. Jumping Badger had risen to the rank of war leader by audacity. It still served him. In his first battle, after his sixteenth winter, he’d killed four enemy warriors. Since then, another twelve had fallen to his bow and warclub. He seemed fearless, even reckless, when it came to war. Each exploit fed his reputation.
“Forgive me, cousin,” Blue Raven said. “I should have begun differently. Your raid was successful. For that your people are grateful. Were you injured during the fight?”