People of the Mist(15)
“Barnacle has brought news,” Corn Hunter had told him. “Hunting Hawk, of Greenstone Clan, has promised her granddaughter to Copper Thunder. As we speak, the girl is becoming a woman. You will take warriors and go north. See if what the Trader tells us is true.”
Shocked by the news, Winged Blackbird had asked, “How soon, my chief?”
“Now. Tonight. Make sure that Hunting Hawk knows that this marriage will displease the Water Snake.”
“Tonight? But I’ll need several days to collect my warriors. Some are hunting, others are fishing. It—”
“Tonight, War Chief!”
“And what am I to do? Just tell her she can’t marry off her granddaughter?”
“I leave that to you. You are War Chief. You may pursue the matter as you think best, but this marriage must not take place.”
Winged Blackbird had managed to pull together two tens of warriors. What he could do with such a tiny force remained to be seen. The first part of his plan was to arrive unexpectedly at Flat Pearl Village—posing as a hunting party that just happened to be in the area. A peaceful visit, that’s all.
Hunting Hawk was smart. The old woman hadn’t held her position and maintained her independence all these years by being a fool. She’d see the subtle threat. His greatest challenge would be the artful delivery of the message so as not to threaten overtly, but to imply dire consequences should the marriage proceed. “We are getting close,” he told his warriors. “Be alert.”
Not a stick of fallen wood lay on the forest floor, and some of the stumps had been chopped down with stone axes. Beneath the nut trees, the soil lay beaten down by the collectors of hickory, pinaquin, and walnuts.
So far, so good. With luck, he and his warriors could just walk up to the palisade and call out a greeting. A little more luck, and Hunting Hawk would receive him politely, and provide a feast. He’d be hurrying south by nightfall, his message delivered.
Just as he decided he might have a glimmering of a chance, a man stepped out from behind a thick tree trunk to block his way.
Winged Blackbird held up his hand, bringing his warriors to a halt. His heart skipped as he recognized that short figure, the bandy legs, and muscular arms. The famous ash-wood bow was strung, and Nine Killer had an arrow nocked.
“Greetings, War Chief,” Nine Killer called out. “What are you doing skulking around in Flat Pearl country?” He cocked his head skeptically. “Not a raid, I hope?”
Winged Blackbird gestured the “hold” command to his nervous warriors. Nine Killer couldn’t be alone out here, could he? Anticipation raced in Blackbird’s veins. If he could take Nine Killer’s head home to White Stake, they would sing honors in his name for moons. He’d prepared for this, ready to kill any lone villagers before they could raise the alarm—but Nine Killer, that would be some trophy!
“A raid, great Nine Killer? No, we are a small hunting party. Since we were just south of your lands, we thought perhaps we would come and visit. A gesture of our goodwill to let you know that we were in the area, and not the cause of alarm.”
Nine Killer gave him a brazen smile. “I’m glad to hear that, noble Winged Blackbird … but I’m puzzled. Why didn’t you come down the main trail?”
“It was out of our way,” Winged Blackbird lied, and gave the subtle signal for his men to fan out.
If Nine Killer understood the shifting of warriors, he gave no sign. Rather, he seemed very sure of himself. A sickening premonition grew in Blackbird’s gut.
“Out of your way? On this narrow neck of land?” Nine Killer drew his arrow back. “That’s far enough, Winged Blackbird. If your warriors take another step, I’ll drive this arrow through your heart and into that tree behind you.”
“A man alone shouldn’t make threats, War Chief.”
“Make a move, War Chief, and you’ll be the first to die.”
Someone hissed from behind Winged Blackbird, and he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Flat Pearl’s warriors stepped out from behind the trees, each with a strung bow, surrounding his small party.
His mouth went dry. If this went wrong, his party would be caught in a crossfire, wiped out to the last man.
“Nine Killer, I come in peace, wishing nothing more than to speak with Hunting Hawk.” He lowered the butt of his bow to the ground, smiling in what he hoped wasn’t visible bravado. “Had I come for war, do you think I’d have brought but two tens of warriors with me?”
“If you came in peace, would you come with your faces painted for war, strung bows, and arrows ready to be released?” Nine Killer slowly shook his head. “What am I to do with you?”