People of the Nightland(46)
“I’ll listen,” I answer breathlessly, my heart starting to pound. I long to have her close where I could teach her … and just talk to her.
I can feel his eyes on mine. “You love her.”
“With all my heart.”
“You know what happens when a Dreamer lies with a woman?”
“It could cost me my life.”
“Would you pay that price?”
“I … I …” Blinking, I shake my head. “It’s not that way.”
He watches me, and the silence stretches. Fear grows inside me.
“Raven Hunter?” I call in a voice smaller than I intend. “I try so hard to please you, but sometimes I feel stupid and inadequate.”
“You are all I expected you to be, Ti-Bish.”
His voice comes from farther and farther away, as though he is soaring down the tunnel toward the fiery lake. “Never forget that truth shines through the hurt eyes of everyone around you. Love everyone … teach everyone.”
“And you’ll take care of us?”
A spiraling black hole appears down the throat of the tunnel … .
Ti-Bish woke with a start, panting, soaked in sweat. His cape had become twisted and tangled with his long legs. He kicked them free and sat up.
“Spirit Dream,” he whispered.
When he started to stand, something tumbled onto the floor. He felt for it. As his fingers slipped across the soft leather, he knew what it was.
The bundle for Skimmer.
He clutched it to his heart, braced one hand against the wall, and rose.
The ice tunnel had a strange scent now, like falling rain. He breathed deeply, a gentle smile on his lips.
Eighteen
Supper consisted of the hind leg of a caribou that Bishka had managed to dart while scouting. The roasting meat was a welcome addition to Kakala’s dwindling supplies.
No one had spoken much during the meal. Too many times, Kakala caught his warriors glancing uneasily to the north. Thoughts of Brookwood Village lay heavily on all of their minds.
All but Goodeagle, of course. He had walked in, cut off a slice of meat, and stepped out beyond the boundary of the fire. Kakala could see him, a dark shadow perched on a partially exposed boulder. What would it be like to be that lonely and despised?
But then, he knew. He’d been in the cage, suffered the heaped insults. He’d watched his wife die, and had finally crawled out, back bent and aching—the hurt in his body no match for the pain in his soul, or the staggering sense of loss. Some said he’d been half-mad for years.
Kakala, belly full, extended his hands to the fire and looked up at the stars.
“I’m worried about Keresa,” Rana said. “She’s been gone too long.”
“Trust her,” Kakala replied, hiding his own concern. “She’s the best. No one else among us could sneak in so close to Headswift Village. If Windwolf is there, she’ll find him.”
“And then we go back?” Corre asked, glancing uneasily toward the spruce tree where Maga’s body lay.
“I’ll take the chance,” Bishka said before biting off another strip of steaming meat. He chewed, swallowed, and gestured with greasy fingers. “Handing over Windwolf’s head keeps us out of the cages.”
“I still don’t understand.” Rana shook his head. “It was as if Windwolf knew we were there. By the Guide’s balls, I’d swear the man can see in the dark.”
Kakala chuckled.
“You find that funny?” Rana gave him a flat stare.
“First, you should be careful how you speak of the Guide. What is said here will go no further, but should you slip before Karigi, or, Raven forbid, Nashat, the cages will look like a blessing compared to what they will do to you.” He paused. “Windwolf, however, does not see in the dark. No more than I do. He’s just a man.”
“Sometimes, I wonder,” Bishka muttered, ripping off another chunk of meat.
Movement at the corner of his eye sent Kakala scrambling for his weapons, only to relax as Keresa—wearing a Sunpath woman’s dress—stepped into the firelight.
“About time,” Kakala muttered, sighing with relief as he replaced his war club by his side.
Keresa dropped a rolled pack containing her war clothes to the ground. It landed with a thud. She grinned as she seated herself next to him. “My stomach is an open hole. That meat smells better than anything I’ve ever known.”
Kakala watched her fumble into the rolled pack to retrieve a hafted stone knife. Her nimble fingers quickly sliced a long strip from the thinning haunch.
“Well?” he asked.
She sank her teeth into the meat, making happy sounds as she chewed. Then, wiping her sleeve across her mouth, swallowed. “Windwolf is gone. I overheard that much.”