“As long as it takes,” Whistle replied. “Now, here is the final thing: On the day before the attack, each of the clans needs to send a small party of fighters around the base of the cliffs below Pinnacle Great House.”
“Why?” Red Water asked. Firelight gleamed in the white streak in her hair. “They’ll be able to see us from above.”
Whistle clapped his hands. “Precisely.” He turned to the war chiefs. “You are to order these scouts to retire immediately after being spotted. Do you understand?”
“No,” Dead Bird muttered. “That’s as crazy as a stone-struck grouse. They’ll know we’re coming.”
Whistle said, “Of course. Pay attention. We want them to know that we know the rim is guarded. We want them to think that because of those guards, we have no other option but to try and force our way past Guest House and onto the ridgetop.”
White Eye asked, “Does the war chief really think this will work?”
Whistle spread his hands wide. “Elder, in war no one can know.”
“Precisely!” a voice called from the kiva entrance.
Whistle turned, seeing a familiar figure enter. It took him several heartbeats to realize this man spoke in First People’s tongue. And then the red shirt, dark in the firelight, sent a stab of fear into his heart. As the man approached the stunned elders, his face caught the firelight.
“Leather Hand!” Whistle’s heart skipped, his gut sinking. He raised his war club, dropping into a crouch. He had a fleeting glimpse of the elders, the war chiefs, all frozen as if thunderstruck, expressions of panic on their faces.
Even more warriors were pouring into the kiva, spreading out, bows drawn, arrows nocked and held for release.
Leather Hand’s white moccasins flashed in the firelight. “No one need die here,” he said in Made People’s tongue. One of his warriors repeated the words in First Moon language. “You may leave this place, alive, and accompany my warriors up to the great house. There you will remain for the duration of the Moon Ceremony.”
“What then?” Whistle’s voice cracked with sudden understanding.
“Well …” Leather Hand shrugged. “We will see. Your futures will depend upon the obedience of your people.” He grinned. “If the Moon Ceremony proceeds peacefully, you may be allowed to return to your clans. If it doesn’t, who knows? Perhaps my warriors and I shall toss your bones down the slope after we roast your bodies.” He made a face as he inspected wizened old Black Sage. “Much too tough. We might have to seek out some of your younger kin to fill our pots.”
The grim red-shirted warriors chuckled at that.
“So?” Leather Hand asked. “What will it be? Live, or have your souls devoured by my human wolves?”
Whistle leapt, bringing his war club up.
He wouldn’t have believed it. Leather Hand blocked his blow, pivoted, and before he could recover, hammered a blow into Whistle’s rib cage.
The pain was agonizing. A second blow smashed his hip, tumbling him to the dirt. Then Leather Hand dropped, his knee spearing the center of Whistle’s broken chest.
“Now,” Leather Hand said softly, “let’s you and I talk about Ironwood.”
He bounced his weight on Whistle’s sternum. The resulting scream might have split the sky.
From the screen of the trees, Ripple stared out at First Moon Valley. The twin pillars of rock dominated the great mountain. From this angle, Pinnacle Great House remained hidden behind the mountain’s shoulder. He could feel the place, like a darkness on his souls. The First People waited there—waited for him.
“Smoke,” Bad Cast said as he walked out of the trees.
“What’s on fire?” Ironwood asked as he led the rest of the warriors to the tree line.
“The Dog’s Tooth,” Ripple replied, seeing it in the Dream. “The kivas are gone; bodies lie broken and mutilated on the slope.”
“What?” Bad Cast cried, stepping beside him, a hand on Ripple’s arm. “You saw this?”
Ripple nodded sadly. “It is as it must be.”
“Must be?” Bad Cast cried, grabbing his other arm, shaking him violently. “Why didn’t you warn us?”
Ironwood’s hard hand clamped on Bad Cast’s shoulder, tightening, fingers digging into the nerves. “Let him go.”
Bad Cast’s hands fell away, but he kept his frantic eyes on Ripple’s.
“I’m sorry,” Ripple whispered. “Bad Cast, do you think this is easy? It’s not! It’s tearing me apart, wounding my souls, but it’s got to be this way!”