“For example,” Keresa said in a silken voice. “We had Walking Seal Village surrounded. When Windwolf’s warriors ambushed us, it was a terrible battle. But in the midst of all the killing, he ran straight for the ceremonial lodge—abandoning his warriors. Why?”
Goodeagle’s breathing came in shallow gasps now; sweat stung his eyes. If he could get to his knees, he might be able to take her. He considered it. No, no, even if he managed to take Keresa, Kakala would probably kill him out of some bizarre sense of loyalty to his deputy. “To rescue Bramble.”
“I don’t believe that. He’s too good a war chief to endanger his warriors simply out of—”
“You’re a fool, Keresa.” Goodeagle shook his head, chuckling hysterically. Maybe he could talk his way out. “I’d have thought you’d know this by now! Windwolf has some fundamental flaws. He’s a cool calculating war chief only up to a point. He can recover from any surprise, but if he takes a blow to the heart, he stumbles. He loved her!”
“Let’s discuss Bramble. Try to imagine, Goodeagle; try to see what her last discussion with Windwolf must have been like. He let her go into a situation where he knew she might die.”
He shook his head. “I—I never really liked her. I don’t—”
Her arm pressed coolly into his windpipe. He swallowed convulsively, belly threatening to empty itself. “He … He probably said something about how dangerous it was. And … And she told him he was too valuable to risk … that she was the right choice.”
Keresa asked, “Would she have discussed you? Women tend to be more perceptive about people than men. She had suspicions you weren’t the loyal friend Windwolf thought, didn’t she?”
“Bramble and I never got along. She was always so fanatically dedicated to Windwolf that it sickened me. I couldn’t even have a decent argument with him without her tongue—”
“But he let her take the risk?”
“You didn’t know Bramble like I did.”
“And how was that?”
“She was strong-willed like a man. How he could love a woman like that …”
Keresa released him and stood. She glared down, disgust and hatred marring her normally striking face. Her full lips pursed as though she wanted to spit on him. “I’ve heard enough.”
Kakala nodded. “Go. I need to question him for a time longer.”
She briskly strode away.
Goodeagle collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and rubbing his throat. “Kakala, if you push Windwolf, he’ll head straight for the Nightland Elders. None of them will be alive when he leaves.”
“And how will he accomplish that feat of magic? Did the two of you ever plan such an attack?”
“Yes. Many times, and in great detail.” Goodeagle rolled to his stomach and wiped sweat from his eyes, trying to catch his breath. “But before I tell you, I need water. Bring me some water!”
A few heartbeats later, a water bag sailed through the tunnel and thudded on the floor.
Forty-seven
Nashat rolled his hips, enjoying the pressure of Blue Wing’s pubis against his. The woman had her long legs wrapped around his buttocks as he had instructed the first night he’d taken her. Some deep-seated comfort filled his chest, augmented by the sensations of his shaft moving inside her. He liked full-breasted women, and pressed his chest into hers.
When the tingle began in his loins, he stiffened, eyes closed. As waves of pleasure spasmed, he gasped, “Gods, yes, Keresa, yes!”
He lay spent, then lifted himself on an arm, looking down at the woman.
“I am Keresa again?” she asked emotionlessly.
“It’s an expression among my people.” He rolled off her, then watched as she stood, wiped herself, and listlessly pulled a dress over her head. He watched her breath fogging in the cold, wondering if it reflected the disgust in her soul, and added, “I would take it as most inappropriate if I heard that you made mention of such things among the slave women.” He smiled. “And I will know.”
She nodded, the defeated expression on her lovely face sharpening.
“Oh, come, Blue Wing. At least you’re fed … and alive.”
“Is that what I am?”
“Would you rather have remained in the pen with the others? I hear the wolves have even taken the bones.”
She gave him a dull look, as if she didn’t really know.
And to think the Guide just told her to go home?
He dressed as she ducked out through the hanging. He shivered, stepping over to the woodpile and tossing three pieces onto the coals. Would he never be warm again? Glancing at the pile, he noticed how low it was. What were the slaves doing on their half-moon-long trips down to the forests and back to keep him supplied?