“All right, Lady. Service has brought me this far. Let’s see just how much farther it’s going to take me.”
Sixty-three
After having tossed Sun Wing outside to safety, Seven Skull Shield coughed and batted at the falling embers as he went back in search of Blue Heron. The inside of the palace was filled with smoke, the heat unbearable. And most horrifying, he could smell human flesh cooking as sections of roof burned through and dropped onto the dead and dying warriors scattered around on the mat floor. Some were Tula, others Four Winds, but they all burned and screamed and smelled the same as their flesh crackled, hissed, and popped.
Columella had managed to get to her knees beside the Keeper. Together with Flat Stone Pipe they worked futilely to free the children.
Seven Skull Shield, seeing their fumbling attempts, shouted, “Go! Get out. We’ll get the children.”
Each child had been bound separately, making the task that much more difficult. And worse, they were hysterical, screaming, kicking, throwing themselves against the ropes. And once untied, their bloodless arms and legs wouldn’t support their weight. Each one had to be carried to the door and literally pitched outside like a sack of cattail roots before going back for another.
“We’re not going to get them all!” Blue Heron screamed at him where she tried picking one of the tight knots apart that held a ten-summers-old girl.
Seven Skull Shield ducked instinctively as another section of roof let loose in the back and slammed into the floor with a thump. An explosion of sparks shot upward in twisting fire.
“Aragh,” he growled, “enough of this.”
“We can’t leave!” Blue Heron cried. “They’re children!”
He shot her a soot-streaked grin. Positioning himself over the bench, he filled his lungs with the smoky air and gripped the outside pole that ran between the supports. Bowing his back, he bent his legs and heaved, bellowing, “Worthless shit-infested pus-sucking wood! Give! You foul worm-riddled piece of dung-dripping.…”
With a crack, the length of bench broke free, Seven Skull Shield and the children tumbling loose. Instead of trying to free them, he simply roared, threw his back into it, and dragged the whole mess backward. He could see the Keeper, doing what she could, tugging on the last child in line.
He blinked, coughing, ever more desperate for breath. Every muscle in his body might have been pulled in two; sweat was dribbling soot and blood into his face. Then he was in the cool rush of air from the door. Almost a gale, it blew in to feed the flames.
Hard hands grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged, and with the help, he was through, warriors pouring past him, grabbing hold of children, lifting.
Together they staggered out into the blessed rain, a line of men carrying the children—still bound to the pole—down the long ramp stairs.
Seven Skull Shield gasped, coughing black phlegm from his throat and using his fingers to blow soot-laden snot from his nose. In the process, he finally noticed his lacerated elbow; inspecting it, he plucked one of the Tula’s broken teeth from one of the bleeding punctures.
A tug at his hunting shirt made him look down. Flat Stone Pipe, his too-round face smeared black, was looking up at him.
“He’s not worth it, probably. But High Chief High Dance is still in there. I can’t get him by myself.”
“Come on, then.” Seven Skull Shield reached down, wincing as he lifted the little man to his shoulder. On wooden legs he started up the stairs, feeling the trembling in his muscles. “I swear by big swinging breasts and fat bouncing buttocks, I’m going to sleep for a quarter moon when this is finished.”
“I’ll find you the bed,” Flat Stone Pipe agreed. “And put the woman in it for you.”
They’d made the top, finding two warriors standing just back from the door, arms up against the heat.
“You’re not going back, are you?” the older one asked.
“Chief High Dance is in there!” Flat Stone Pipe pointed with his short arm, his stubby finger out.
Seven Skull Shield made it to the door, had just started to look in, when the whole of the roof came crashing down.
No matter how exhausted the rest of him was, his instincts were still quick. Even as he turned and ducked, he had Flat Stone Pipe’s small body shielded.
As a gale of fire, sparks, and smoke jetted from the doorway a single terrible scream could be heard. And as quickly, it ceased.
* * *
As she made her way down the narrow cut, Night Shadow Star carefully placed each foot, testing the wet soil for purchase. For the moment she wished she were barefoot like Walking Smoke, whose toes found better grip in the slick mud.