Webworm stepped back. “You couldn’t know …”
“It was a Powerful Dream, wasn’t it?” The old woman put her head back and laughed. “You call for me when the nightmares become too real. Then, and only then, will we Dance, you and I.”
At that, Webworm turned, hurrying away. He almost kicked over a pile of firewood that a young barbarian had packed in to Trade.
“Blessed Sun?” Wind Leaf called as he hurried after.
“Stupid old hag,”Webworm growled under his breath. “Thinks she can scare me, does she? I’ll show her.” To Wind Leaf he said, “Unpack. If she thinks she can drive me out of my own great house, she’s sadly mistaken.”
Wind Leaf slowed to a confused halt. Behind him in the cage, he heard the witch chuckling.
A southwest night wind had blown the smoke pall away. Powerful gusts moaning through the trees had awakened Bad Cast. He blinked after rolling in his blanket, and looked up at the midnight sky. The stars were haze-grayed, Sister Moon nearly full. He could see a ring around her, as if some sort of storm were coming.
Bones and stones, it was a storm indeed. He made a face, sitting upright in his blankets. If this went wrong, the Red Shirts would take it out on his family. Somehow he had to get word to Soft Cloth and his kin.
Several paces away a single fire still burned, the flames whipped this way and that by the capricious winds. Ironwood sat like a bowed god, his scar-filled face illuminated by the flickering light.
Bad Cast unwrapped from his blanket, picked his way past sleeping men, and squatted opposite the war chief.
“You should be sleeping,” Ironwood said softly. The wind pulled at his hair, slapping it around in a wild display. The patch over his eye made a black streak across his deeply lined features. The shadows cast by the fire lent him a terrible expression.
“So should you.”
“A great many things are on my mind.”
“Mine, too.”
Ironwood’s single eye gleamed in the light; his scars interrupted the lines on his face. “Oh?”
“My family. If the First People discover who is leading you up the mountain, they will hunt down my brothers, sisters, mother, and uncles. They will find Soft Cloth, and my daughter, and who knows how many others.”
Ironwood reached out, dropping another broken pine branch into the deeply dug fire pit. “That is a possibility.”
Bad Cast waited, watching the war chief as he stared into the flickering fire. His broad shoulders sagged.
When he finally spoke, he didn’t meet Bad Cast’s eyes. “I will make a bargain with you.”
“A bargain, War Chief?”
“Once you lead us up the back side of First Moon Mountain, you may go. Find your people, and warn them. Tell them not to take part in what’s coming, but to pack and leave. Personally, I’d take them east to the Great River. There’s good land there.”
“But what if you need me?”
“If we do not completely surprise them, Bad Cast, my warriors and I will have no need of anything.” A faint shrug of his shoulders. “Your presence will not affect the outcome.”
Bad Cast frowned. “Somehow, it doesn’t feel right just leaving you, Yucca Sock, Firehorn, Right Hand, and the rest. I would always wonder if my being there might have made a difference.”
“Ah, so you’re a man with a conscience. It’s a terrible thing to have.” He rubbed his face with his large bony hands. “But in your case, I am going to play on this conscience of yours, and ask you if you will do something for me.”
“Of course, War Chief. It will be my honor.”
“When I dismiss you before the attack, go and warn your people. Then, when the fighting plays out, I want you to return to my settlement and tell Night Sun and Orenda what has occurred. I need you to make sure they are safe.”
“I don’t understand. Why won’t you send one of your warriors for them?”
He ignored the question. “Your people know this country; you have kin that you can count on to hide them, keep them safe. If the worst happens and we are all killed, the Blessed Sun may have warriors searching under every bush. You might have to move them around, travel by night until Webworm gives up. When things finally quiet down, please promise me you will take Night Sun down to Cornsilk and Poor Singer. Chief Jay Bird will know where they are.”
“You can take care of her yourself.”
Ironwood turned his head, looking where Ripple had lain his bed. Bad Cast followed his glance. He would have sworn Ripple’s eyes were open, that he was listening. “When you bargain with the gods, they expect you to keep your word. From the things both Nightshade and Ripple have told me, I know that I must suffer something terrible. No, don’t protest, Bad Cast. I’ve done unspeakable things during my life. Being granted the few summers I’ve had with my wife and daughter are more than I deserve.”