People of the Nightland(162)
Washani nodded. “I know.” He rubbed his jaw, eyes on the piles of loot and the uneasy people who stood by them. “Tensions are rising.”
Degan crossed his arms. “My family wanted to bring a mountain of things. I told them no. It didn’t make my wife happy.”
Klah shuffled his feet uneasily. “Since I have been home, it is as if I were a stranger to my family. They have changed, grown fat and lazy.”
Goodeagle looked around. “Who’s going to carry all this?”
Washani smiled uneasily. “With the Sunpath captives gone, I’d say most of it is going to be left behind.”
Klah’s expression soured. “Think of how many good friends died to obtain this. And now it’s going to be wasted?” He shook his head. “On the war trail I longed to be home. Now, home, I long for the war trail.” He lifted a skeptical brow. “Even seeing stinking Goodeagle is a relief.”
Goodeagle gave him a weak smile. “Well, I won’t bother you with my stink.”
He turned, walking toward the great cave. The way threaded through packed people. The odor of their sweat, the smell of urine, and piles of feces almost gagged him. He could see the stewing resentment on the Nightland faces.
“When is the Guide going to call us!” kept echoing in his ears.
He wound through the mass, doing his best to ignore the swell of humanity. He raised his eyes, looking up at the thin arch of ice overhead. He could see boulders up there, frozen in place, but ready to fall.
What kinds of lunatics live in a place like this?
It made his skin crawl, and he had a sudden longing to be outside, in the air, where the world was still fresh.
Instead he forced himself through the crowd to where Bishka stood beside Rana, a war club in his hand. The warriors were glaring out at the crowd, who glared back at them.
“Good day,” Goodeagle greeted.
“Is it?” Bishka asked. “I’ve been on my feet keeping the people back since before dawn.” He shot Goodeagle a hard look. “Is it true that Karigi’s chasing down Kakala?”
“It is.”
Bishka glanced at Rana. “We should be out there, protecting our war chief.”
Rana muttered, nodding in agreement.
“What of your duty to the people?”
Bishka gave him a dark shrug. “The people? These same ones who are cursing us because we won’t let them go search out the Guide?”
Rana growled. “We’ve been out dying for them for moons. Now they would as soon split our heads as look at us.”
Goodeagle looked back at the crowd. The gazes were hostile, but none of the fishermen, hunters, and women had quite mustered the courage to press the warriors.
“Where’s Nashat?”
“No one knows,” Bishka whispered. “No one has seen him for three days.”
Goodeagle considered leaving, but hated to face the mass of humanity again. “I heard warriors are searching the tunnels. I’ll go see if I can learn anything, and I’ll let you know.”
Either the ruse worked, or Bishka could care less anymore. He allowed Goodeagle to pass.
Winding his way along the gravel-packed floor, Goodeagle marveled at the grandeur of the great ice caves. In his warrior’s shirt, no one bothered to ask his business.
He saw the woman first, recognizing her as she hurried down the gavel path. His first instinct was to ignore her; then, screwing up his courage, he turned to intercept her.
Blue Wing carried a pack slung over her back, a desperate expression on her face. She kept peering back over her shoulder, as if expecting a shout at any moment.
“Blue Wing,” he greeted as he stepped into her way. She glanced up, startled, and he watched her fear turn to loathing.
“Goodeagle.” A resignation filled her voice. “My life is truly cursed.”
“What’s happening back there?” He indicated the deeper caverns.
“Why should I tell you?”
He gave her a ruthless smile, remembering how soft her body had been against his when he’d taken her during the long march north from Nine Pipes territory. “Because I’m ordering you to.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m Nashat’s now.”
“And where is he?”
She gave a terse jerk of her head toward the rear. But he saw through her bravado, could sense the panic in her.
“Taking the opportunity to run?” he guessed.
The widening of her eyes betrayed her.
“Come, into this side cavern. Let’s you and I talk.”
She slumped in defeat, gave a nod, and walked slowly into the side tunnel.
Goodeagle lifted a hide flap, finding a storeroom in the ice, and motioned her in. She entered, staring about in the gloom. The place had been emptied in advance of the great journey to the Long Dark.