Silt said, “What is this message?”
“Windwolf sends his regards, and an order that he wishes you to follow, though he knows you will not wish to.”
Silt spread his feet. “Why am I not surprised?”
“He orders you to gather as many Sunpath people as you can and head west to the Tills in the lands of the Southwind People. He said he will be sending more warriors to you.”
“What are you talking about? We’re not running!”
The deputy had raised his voice loud enough that his warriors could hear.
Horehound deliberately kept his words low. “He said he knew you would not wish to obey him—”
“I have never disobeyed one of his orders,” Silt said through gritted teeth. “But … but this … It makes no sense! Why would he give such an order? Did he explain?”
Horehound spread his arms. “He said you would ask. His answer to you is that the Tills are easily defensible. The rolling forested Sunpath lands are not. He asks that when you arrive, you make a study of the high points, figure out the best way to defend them so as to kill as many attackers as possible.”
“We’re going to defend the Tills? When our own lands are here?”
Horehound nodded. “Those who are not laying traps for pursuing Nightland warriors are to hunt, but in small parties. Windwolf wants you to rest, fill your bellies and packs, and be ready when he sends for you.”
“Ah!” Silt’s smile returned. “He is planning something?”
“He is. And, no, he did not tell me what. But he did say to tell you that trying it with exhausted, half-starved warriors … as he put it ‘would not be wise.’”
Silt was frowning. “And the Lame Bull People?”
Horehound took a deep breath. “Some of our warriors will be sent to join yours in the Tills. Others will come at the last moment, meeting at a place Windwolf determines.”
Silt looked at him from lowered eyes. “I’m just supposed to trust him?”
“He said I should tell you these words. He made me memorize them: ‘Tell Silt that Walking Seal Village taught me he is the only man I can trust. Tell him that I beg him to trust me in return.’”
Silt’s grave expression slackened. He looked away and his gaze drifted over the forest. Wind Woman’s touch was calm and cool today, barely stroking the pine boughs.
Finally, Silt asked, “Where is he? Still at Headswift Village?”
“He was when I left.”
Silt walked a short distance away and, more to himself than to Horehound, whispered, “The Tills lie ten hard days’ run to the west. Why not someplace closer?”
Since Horehound didn’t figure that question had been aimed at him, he kept silent.
Silt’s head swiveled, and the look he gave Horehound cut like a stiletto to the heart. “I have a message for Windwolf.”
“What is it?”
“Tell him I will meet him at the Tills, but if he is not there in two moons, I’ll come looking for him.”
Horehound nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
Silt gestured to the north. “We may know that Hawhak is scurrying home with his tail between his legs, but Kakala, Blackta, and Karigi are still out there somewhere. If you fall into their hands, and they make you talk … Well, it wouldn’t be pleasant.”
“War Chief Silt, by nature I’m a cowardly man. You can bet I’ll take special measures to keep my hide in one piece.”
Twenty-two
The magnificent Nightland Council chamber had a spongelike quality. The walls were as porous as a wasp’s nest. Some of the cavities twisted back into the ice like wormholes, going in every direction and disappearing into blackness. And it was huge. It arched ten body lengths over Nashat’s head and spread fifty paces across.
Two of the precious pine torches, carried all the way up from the Sunpath lands, burned in the center of the chamber. The pale yellow gleam danced across the high ceiling and glittered on the black wolf hides that covered the thick gravel floor.
Nashat pulled the sleeves of his heavily painted buckskin shirt straight and glanced at Ti-Bish. The Guide stood on the far side of the Council chamber, watching War Chief Kakala from the corner of his eye. The war chief was a big, heavy-boned man who wore his long black hair in a single braid. The bloodstains on his gray bearhide cape had turned brown from age, and almost looked like painted symbols. He had a raw strength about him that women reputedly found irresistible. Nashat wondered how they got over his scarred, ugly face.
Nashat said to Ti-Bish, “Blessed Guide, Kakala has not been able to capture War Chief Windwolf. I know this will disappoint you.”