“Are Jaron’s warriors far enough away?” Kakala asked.
“I think so.” Keresa stared off into the distance. “Bishka, keep a watch for us.”
“Yes, Deputy.” He trotted off around the curve of the enclosure.
Windwolf laid his darts to the side and began sliding the poles off the rocks on which they’d been braced. To those closest to the opening, he said, “These are your orders. You will walk out with your belongings. You are to head straight south. No one is to speak; no one is to laugh or shout.You must be across Lake River by no later than four days.”
“Who are you?” a man asked.
“I am called Water. The Council has decided that they have no need for captives.” Then he added, “But that could change at any moment. If you’re going, go. Anyone who lingers might be called back.”
People rose, filing past him. He watched as they hurried along, slipping out into the night, heading back south.
Windwolf stepped back and turned to Kakala. “Thank you for this, War Chief.”
Kakala nodded, an anxious set to his shoulders. “You’re not finished yet, Win … Water. They only have a night’s head start. Karigi will be after them as soon as he discovers the escape.”
“Hopefully, he’ll be too anxious to follow the Guide.”
“We can hope.”
A woman paused. “There are some who cannot walk.” She gestured. “Back there.”
“I’ll see to them.” Windwolf nodded, and watched the trickle of people passing by.
“I’ll come, too.” Kakala turned. “Keep watch, Keresa.”
“Of course. I think our people are fidgeting to get home.”
“Dismiss them. Tell them I will speak with them later.”
“Yes, War Chief.” She turned, trotting away.
Sixty-five
As he entered the compound Windwolf caught the stench of feces, urine, and human fear. “How did we come to this?”
“Arrogance,” Kakala muttered, “and Nashat’s poison.”
They walked into the enclosure, peering around. A hide-covered hut sat in the back, a low fire burning before it.
Kakala prodded a human form on the ground. “Come on, get up.” Then he bent down, fingering the body. “Dead,” he said. “A young woman. Club wound to the head.”
“Nightland honor?” Windwolf asked.
“Karigi’s sort,” Kakala replied, failing to take the bait.
Several more dead lay here and there; two of them, Windwolf noted, were children. Kakala said nothing as they passed.
The hide-covered hut was a low-domed thing made of willow stems bent over and tied together.
Windwolf stepped up to the fire. In the feeble light it cast, he could see three naked women and a little girl. They sat, backs to the wall, hunched over for warmth.
A warrior lay sleeping opposite them, his body covered with a bearhide robe.
The little girl stared up with horrified eyes, and said, “Not again. Please?”
Kakala asked, “Again?”
Not realizing it was a question, the little girl crawled out onto a filthy hide, settled on her back, and spread her thin legs. Windwolf’s heart sank as he watched the child, no more than eight summers of age, opening herself to the next man who demanded her.
“By Raven Hunter’s balls,” Kakala growled. “Put some clothes on, child.”
The warrior blinked, sat up, and yawned. As he stretched lazily, the women lowered their heads, doing anything to avoid the man’s attention.
“Come for your turn?” the warrior asked muzzily. “I recommend the woman on the right to start with. She’s—”
“My turn?” Kakala asked, stepping forward. “How does this work?”
Windwolf cast a sidelong glance at Kakala, surprised by the deadly calm in his voice.
“We each get a couple of hands’ time.” The warrior rolled his shoulders as he stood up. “Compensation for having to do this stinking duty. Most of us have taken a turn or two already. Sorry for the leftovers.”
“And the child?” Windwolf asked in a mild voice.
“She’s tight. You’ll have to spit on your shaft first.” The man was ducking through the low doorway.
Windwolf sensed Kakala’s bunching muscles, heard the whistle and crack as Kakala’s war club crushed the back of the man’s head.
The warrior dropped with a hollow thud, his limbs twitching. Kakala stood over him, raising the club and bringing it down again and again on the back of the man’s head. The body jerked with each sodden impact.
“Worried he might still get up, War Chief?” Windwolf asked dryly as Kakala raised himself for another blow.