The Councilor had no ears for Ti-Bish or his vision; he had been fixed on the people, his eyes gleaming with a delighted satisfaction, a cagey excitement betrayed by his cunning expression. Nashat kept knotting his fist, almost shaking it victoriously, the way a warrior would after a perfectly executed raid.
Then, at the end, when Ti-Bish finished, and before the people could crowd around, Nashat had bundled the man up, and hurried him away to the ice caves, claiming Ti-Bish needed time to think, to ponder, and commune with Raven Hunter himself.
That evening had changed everything. Four days later, the Council—composed of the four clan Elders, including Nashat—had called for war.
For two moons now, Nightland warriors, fueled by the Power of Ti-Bish’s vision, had waged war on the fiercely territorial bands of Sunpath People. It had been bloody, relentless, and increasingly savage.
And now we are here, about to spring this trap. She felt a wooden dullness around her heart. After this, there would be no going back. This wasn’t about valor, or glory, or defense; it was about the cold-blooded murder of a potential adversary.
The oaks surrounding the village hunched like old men under the heavy mantle of snow, their branches drooping as if in defeat. The thin streamers of smoke rising from the lodges seemed tired and resigned.
“I don’t like it,” she whispered loud enough for Kakala to hear. “Windwolf should have been here by now.”
Goodeagle almost winced, pain on his face.
Kakala shot a sidelong glance at Keresa. “He will come. When he does, he will walk right between our jaws.”
She was watching Goodeagle as she replied, “Windwolf can smell a trap as well as we can.”
Goodeagle stiffened, swallowed hard, and shook his head, as if to will away any misgivings.
Kakala sighed, saying softly, “Karigi’s warriors are hidden in the town. There’s nothing to give us away. Even if Windwolf suspects … he thinks his wife is down there. You know how he feels about Bramble. She is the center of his world. The man we both know will do anything to get her back.”
Keresa rolled her lip between her teeth. Could anyone love that much?
She thought about Kakala. He was her best friend. They trusted each other implicitly, and she would do anything to protect him. When he had appointed her his deputy war chief several years back, there had been winks, whispered insinuations, and even ribald jokes—all uttered behind her back, of course. But she and Kakala had never looked at each other with lovers’ eyes. The death of Kakala’s wife, Hako, stood between them like a great stone.
Is that what really keeps us apart? She frowned, wondering at the odd distance between them. No two people that she knew were as close, sharing fires, jokes, thoughts, and worries; but sexual attraction led her in a different direction. Her relationship with Kakala was more like a sister’s with her favorite brother.
Keresa returned her attention to the large lodge that dominated the center of Walking Seal Village. It was a huge thing, covered with mammoth hide. She wondered what Bramble was thinking. By now, Karigi should have had her safely away, guarded for her return to the Nightland caves.
Keresa could imagine the woman, bound, gagged, surrounded by Nightland warriors. She would be shooting frightened glances at her captors, wondering what fate lay in store for her when she faced the Nightland Council. News of her husband’s defeat would be like a hollow darkness torn in her soul.
Keresa experienced a moment of regret. She liked Bramble, had admired the woman’s good nature, mixed with practical expediency. In all of their dealings prior to the coming of the Guide, Bramble had been poised, responsible, and composed. Keresa had studied the woman on those occasions when they had shared an evening’s fire.
I always wanted to be just like her.
But now Bramble was Karigi’s prisoner, and that thought sent a shiver down Keresa’s back. Bramble, cunning enemy that she might be now, was too good to deserve that.
Keresa fought the urge to lift her lip in disgust as she shot a glance at Goodeagle. But for him—traitor that he was—none of this would be happening. She took a deep breath, stilling her disdain for the man.
It was war. The will of Raven Hunter’s vision, granted to the Guide. For whatever reason, Raven Hunter had come to Ti-Bish. His Dream was to return the people to the world beyond the ice. Before the Nightland People could return to that paradise, they had to ensure that no other peoples would follow their path.
Do I believe it? The question nagged at her. For years her people had followed the path of Wolf Dreamer, seeking order and the elusive quest for the One. As did the Sunpath and Lame Bull Peoples.
Now we are different, serving opposing visions of the Spirit World. And given the victories that had been so hard-won over the last two moons, perhaps Power actually did favor them.