The only thing Horehound knew for certain was that Headswift Village could neither protect nor feed them all. Worse, as more and more refugees flooded in, Headswift Village would become an increasingly alluring target for Nightland warriors.
As if we wouldn’t have been anyway, once the Prophet’s warriors finished with the Sunpath.
He trotted out from under the trees. When the men saw him, a shout of alarm went up and four warriors sprinted toward him with their nocked atlatls up and ready to cast.
Horehound spread his arms wide, showing that all of his weapons were tied to his belt, and called, “I have a message for Deputy Silt from War Chief Windwolf! Is Deputy Silt here?”
A big ugly man with shoulders as wide a buffalo’s trotted up, eyed Horehound’s weapons belt, and kept his arm back, ready to drive the wicked-looking dart into Horehound’s chest.
Horehound sighed and repeated, “Is Deputy Silt here? I carry a message for him from War Chief Windwolf.”
One of the other warriors said, “He must be telling the truth, Bot. No man would just run in here like that unless he thought he was safe.”
Bot gave Horehound a murderous look, but said, “What is your name, warrior?”
“I am Horehound, from Headswift Village. War Chief Windwolf sent me to find you. I have been on the trail many days. Mostly because you never stay in one place!”
Bot scowled. “If we did, the Nightland warriors would find us, instead of us finding them. Were that the case you’d be talking to little bits of my liver right now. Which wouldn’t do you much good, would it?”
Horehound shook his head. He didn’t want to mention that standing here talking to Bot’s face wasn’t doing him much good either. “Is Deputy Silt here? The message I carry is urgent.”
Without taking his eyes from Horehound, the big man said, “Dogwood, fetch Silt.”
The warrior ran off down the trail. A short time later, he trotted back accompanied by a medium-sized man with shoulder-length black hair and dressed in a soot-stained mammoth-hide cape.
“I am Deputy Silt.” The man eyed Horehound severely. “What is this message you claim to carry?”
“Deputy, I am to tell you that Kakala has attacked Headswift Village. The attack may have been meant to kill Windwolf, but many of our people died, including our Sacred Storyteller, Mossy. You are to know that Lookingbill considers this but the first attack to be made on our people. The Lame Bull People welcome the Sunpath People as allies in our mutual war against the Nightland warriors and their accursed Prophet.”
Shouts went up. Some of the warriors actually Danced.
“And Windwolf?” Silt asked, grinning. “Is he well?”
“Yes, Deputy. Well, and beloved by our people. It was he who spoiled the Nightland attack on Headswift Village. At no small risk to himself, he saved Chief Lookingbill’s life, and probably that of our war chief, Fish Hawk, and many others as well.”
His statement was met with grins.
Silt was beaming. He clapped a hand to Horehound’s shoulder. “You bring good news, Horehound. News beyond our hopes.”
A feeling of delight shot through his breast. “That pleases me, Deputy. Also, you should know that Headswift Village is currently sheltering refugees. Though I do not know how long our food will hold out.”
“How are things in the north?”
Horehound spread his hands wide. “I have passed through nothing but burned camps and fleeing people. Most of the country is empty.” He took a breath. “And only yesterday I hid from a party of Northland warriors.”
“Headed which way? How many?” Bot demanded.
“Perhaps twenty, and five were badly wounded.”
Another of the warriors nodded. “We ambushed them here.” He gestured at the people beyond the village. “They were to be the slaves to carry loot and food north.”
“Twenty?” Silt mused. “Hawhak started this raid with more than fifty. Somehow, I don’t think Councilor Khepa is going to be pleased when his war chief returns home.”
“We could follow,” Bot suggested. “Hit them again. They won’t be expecting us to be so hot on their trail.”
Silt considered. “But we have no idea where Blackta, Kakala, and Karigi might be.”
Horehound interrupted. “Deputy, there is more.”
“Yes?”
“War Chief Windwolf told me this message was for your ears alone.”
Bot made a growling sound. “That doesn’t sound like Windwolf. He would never—”
“He might,” Silt corrected, “if he feared that the news would get around too quickly.”
Silt motioned for Horehound to follow him as he walked ten paces back up the trail. When Horehound glanced over his shoulder, he noticed that the warriors kept their atlatls nocked and aimed at his back. Even a poor warrior could hit such a big target from ten paces. His skin crawled.