“Yes?”
“I must speak with Evening Star.”
“This is not a good time, Tsauz, but I’ll see if I can arrange something for later. Will that be sufficient?”
Tsauz let out a shaky breath. “Yes.”
Evening Star had waited out the worst of the crowd’s vitriol. She raised her hands, waving until the babble died down. Her voice called loud and clear: “My people! Listen to me!”
“We’re not your people!” an old woman shrilled.
Rain Bear threw his head back. Rides-the-Wind saw the tendons and veins standing out in his neck as he screamed the most bloodcurdling of war cries.
Silence fell over the crowd as Rain Bear’s bellow died out. “Listen to her,” he said into the awkward silence. “Hear her, as I did.”
Evening Star pushed her way forward, passing Dogrib’s line of guards as she stalked up to the old woman and shouted, “Yes! You are my people—as I am yours!” She whirled, pointing from face to face. “What binds us together is our hatred for the Council! For what they have done to us!” She lifted a clenched fist, her sleeve falling down to reveal a pale arm. “Cut this flesh, and my blood runs as red as yours does! My soul bled as yours did when the Council ordered my family’s murder! As they have killed your relatives, sons, and daughters, they killed mine!”
She glared at them, pacing from person to person, her anger a burning and brilliant thing. Rides-the-Wind grinned at the authority radiating from her.
“I killed Kenada when I could stand no more abuse!” She raised her hands, pale fingers shining in the firelight. “With these hands I cut his throat!”
A low muttering of approval passed through the crowd like a lapping wave.
“Coyote,” she cried, “offered me the choice of betraying you in return for little Tsauz and the promise of safety!”
Rides-the-Wind felt the boy tense.
“I refused!” Evening Star told them vehemently. “And because I did, he has sworn to kill both me and the boy!”
A muted bellow was born in the press, a rekindling of the old hatred and injustice.
Evening Star thrust her hand out, pointing at Rain Bear. She was standing among them now, one of them. “In poor murdered Hornet’s name, I tell you: There is salvation for all of us! To live, we must join forces with Chief Rain Bear, and break the Council once and for all!”
Shouts and whistles of approbation broke out, people shaking their torches, howling their support.
Rides-the-Wind watched, fascinated. “She has won them,” he noted, more for himself than for Tsauz’s benefit.
But the little boy looked up, his blank eyes like pits of pain. “I’m scared, Rides-the-Wind. If I don’t stop it, lots of people are going to die.”
“You think you can stop this?” he asked carefully.
“I must try.” The boy nodded frankly. “I’ve seen it in a Dream. But if I do, I may die a terrifying death.”
Forty-one
Tsauz heard Rides-the-Wind add more wood to the small fire the old man had built in front of his lodge. With the light drizzle, the evening had turned cold and damp. Thick mist blew through the firs, coating his face and hands. Water dripped from the brim of the bark rain hat he wore.
“I’m sure she’s coming, Tsauz.”
Tsauz twisted his hands in his lap. “But she’s late, isn’t she?”
“Her meeting with the chiefs probably took longer than she’d thought. That’s all.”
“What do you think they are discussing?” Tsauz straightened his black-and-white cape. He couldn’t seem to keep his fingers still.
“They’re probably trying to decide how to stop the assassin.”
Tsauz sensed Rides-the-Wind’s movement when he leaned toward the tea bag hanging on the tripod over the fire. It creaked as he dipped up a fragrant cup of fir needle tea.
“I could hear behind your voice, Rides-the-Wind. You don’t think Coyote can be stopped.”
“Not by guards, no.” A pause. “Here.” Rides-the-Wind tucked the cup into Tsauz’s hand. “Drink this. It will soothe your heart.”
Tsauz took the cup, smelling peppermint, but didn’t drink. He stared blindly in the direction of the trail Evening Star would take when she came home.
“You heard Evening Star. Coyote will be coming to kill me next time. If the guards can’t stop him …” He had to swallow the rest, unable to state what lingered in his soul like a festering barb.
“Then I will.” Rides-the-Wind’s voice was barely audible.
“You?”
“This isn’t a battle fought by warriors, Tsauz. Coyote will either be defeated by Power, or by his unwholesome appetites. Time will tell. And you’re not the only one he’s hunting.”