The drill was placed to the Tula’s forehead, and this time, Takes Horn actually had to begin grinding it into bone before the Tula wailed, “The warehouse! Just west of where the thief caught me. Some chief owns it!”
“War Duck?” she asked, and the name was translated.
“The fool sells us his warehouse even as we work toward his destruction!” The Tula’s frantic eye darted back and forth. “But you are too late! Two-Footed Smoke is drawing in the strands of Power that will trap you all! There is nothing for you, only death from which you will never be resurrected!”
Forty-five
A half-throttled shriek brought Fire Cat fully awake. He’d dropped down to sit propped in Night Shadow Star’s doorway, a position where no one could pass. That he had fallen asleep was a sign of how weary he’d become.
Now he winced as he raised himself, seeing slanting daylight from a high sun through the gaps in the door. The household staff was huddled in a far corner, doing something on the matting. Gambling with gaming pieces, he realized. And probably hoping all the while that their lady had fallen into an endless slumber and would never come back to order them around.
A croaking sound reminded him of what had brought him awake. He winced and stood as his cramped and stiff muscles complained. The armor had bitten into his flesh, and now prickled where blood flowed.
He stepped into her room, peering down in the gloom. She lay curled on the floor before the altar. He’d thrown a blanket over her in the night, but it lay twisted into a knot at one side.
The choking sound was barely audible now. Her mouth was open, lungs sucking desperately for air she couldn’t find.
Bending down he lifted her limp head, seeing her eyes rolled back behind slitted lids. Her frantic mouth struggled for air.
“Lady? Wake up. You’re not breathing.”
Her lungs continued to heave. He pulled her long hair back, ensuring that nothing was tied around her throat.
“Night Shadow Star! Wake up.” He shifted her onto his lap, patting the soft curve of her cheek. Her entire body now jerked in the battle for breath. But what on earth was restricting her airway?
“I said, wake up!” He slapped her hard enough to send a tremor through her.
At the sound of voices behind him, he turned, seeing the wide-eyed household staff.
“Green Stick! Go! Fetch Rides-the-Lightning. Get him here! But by the souls in your body, do it with discretion. I don’t want half the city running here to gawk and gossip. Do you understand me?”
The man nodded, stopped short, and cocked his head. “Who are you to order me around? You’re nothing but a slave yourself.”
Like a striking copperhead, Fire Cat shifted Night Shadow Star from his lap, leaped, and clamped a hard hand around Green Stick’s throat. As the man clawed to get free, Fire Cat lifted him until he perched on tiptoes. Glaring into the slave’s frightened eyes, Fire Cat said through gritted teeth, “When I give you an order, you piece of two-legged shit, you obey. Now, get your limp and dragging self to Rides-the-Lightning, and get him here without alerting half the town. If she dies in the meantime, I’ll cut you apart to feed the crows!”
With that he turned the man loose, and bent back to Night Shadow Star. The woman’s gasping attempts to breathe were weakening; her eyes quivered in panic behind twitching lids. The way her mouth opened and closed reminded him of a dying fish.
“What are you going to do?” one of the slave women asked.
“Save her … I hope.” But how?
He hesitated, uneasy at laying hands on her naked body, then placed both of his palms on her breast bone and pushed down.
A gurgling came from deep in her throat, but nothing seemed to dislodge. He could feel the frantic beat of her heart as it hammered her rib cage.
“Come on, Lady. If you die on me, who will I have to hate?”
Growing frantic, he gave up pressing on her chest, shifted, and dragged her by the head onto his lap. Supporting the back of her neck with one hand, he pinched her nose shut, made a face, and took a deep breath.
Covering her mouth with his, he exhaled with all his might. Something gave, her chest expanding. He pulled his head back, feeling her purling breath as she slowly exhaled and coughed. Her next breath was shallow, and rasped in her throat, but she was breathing.
Sighing relief, he laid her back on the floor, crouching so he could press down on her breastbone each time she exhaled. If he could just get the old air out of her, keep her breathing, at least she’d have a body for her souls to return to.
The frantic beat of her heart began to slow from a panicked race to normal.
“Well, at least now I know you’ve got a heart, black and wicked though it might be.” He gave her a relieved smile.