People of the Raven(13)

“Rotted dogs,” Dogrib growled as he sprinted ahead. “I should have thought of that myself.”

Rain Bear took a deep breath and used the moment to look around, searching for anything out of place. He nodded to people who bowed to him and continued toward the Council Lodge.

Twice as large as an ordinary lodge, the circular Council Lodge measured six body lengths across. It sat at the eastern edge of the village in a copse of leafless alders. The winter-brown leaves were spongy beneath his feet as he approached the entry.

“I took a quick look inside,” Dogrib said, and drew the leather door hanging aside for Rain Bear to enter. “No one is here but the woman.”

“I thank you, my friend.”

A freshly built fire burned in the central hearth and cast a pale amber gleam over the soot-coated walls. Power Boards leaned side by side around the circumference. These were elaborately carved planks painted with the image of a clan totem or family’s Spirit Helper. Every family in Sandy Point Village had a board here. Rain Bear preferred the huge carving of the Light Giver, Raven. In this depiction, Raven had obsidian-bead eyes that glinted in the light and a painted beak as long as Rain Bear’s arm.

She stood at an angle to him, her face half obscured by a thick wealth of wavy red hair that fell to the middle of her back. He instantly understood Pitch’s comment about her jewelry. Her many bracelets clicked with her slightest move, and her abalone shell pendant was huge, a full hand across. Immaculately carved, the pendant might have been the finest Creation Maze he’d ever seen. Creation Mazes told the circuitous story of how Song Maker had pulled different threads of music from the fabric of his own garments and woven them together to make the world.

“You are Chief Rain Bear?”

“I am. And you?”

She turned to face him, and her polished copper earrings flashed bloodred in the light. Had he ever seen such a beautiful woman? She had bright blue eyes and a perfectly sculpted heart-shaped face. “Where is Dzoo? I am here to see her.”

“Dzoo’s away … on a Healer’s journey. I don’t think she’ll be back for several days. If you’ll tell me who you are, and what you want, perhaps I can help.”

The news struck her like a physical blow. The haughty air slipped; her face paled. “Dzoo is gone? Where? Please, I—I have come a long way to find her.” Her struggle to hide the desperation in her voice touched him. Was she ill? Is that why she’d Come? “The last we heard, she was among the Cougar People—at Chief Antler Spoon’s village. A strange fever broke out there. Some time ago, they sent a runner to beg her to come Heal them.”

Rain Bear crossed the floor toward the fire, knelt, and checked the teapot hanging on the tripod. Empty. There was no Council meeting scheduled, and no one had thought to make tea for her.

The young woman took three quick steps toward him. “Chief Rain Bear, forgive me, but once I explain, I hope you will understand my fears. I am Evening Star, daughter of Matron Naida, of the Ash Fall Clan of the North Wind People. My mother—”

“Is dead. Her village was destroyed over two moons ago, on her brother, Cimmis’s, orders. If you are her daughter, you were taken slave by Ecan. A lesson to the other matrons who might be inclined toward disobeying Cimmis’s orders.” He rose to his feet and studied her. “But I am curious. Your name—it’s not one of the North Wind People’s.”

Evening Star nervously wet her lips. “My mother spent most of her life among Raven People. When I was born, it was a different time. Attitudes were different. Evening Star was a friend to my mother, a woman who helped her in a time of need. I was named in her honor. Matron Naida taught me your language and something of your beliefs and manners as a way of preparing me since I would be responsible for the Raven People in my territory. She had great respect for your people. I think that’s why she’s dead. Neither the Council nor my uncle could allow her such traitorous extravagances.”

A log popped in the fire, and the sudden wavering burst of light painted her stunning face and sent fiery threads through her hair. It was the color he imagined a dye master could achieve if she blended red coral with polished copper.

“Why would your uncle spare you? With your mother gone, you are the next matron of the Ash Fall Clan, are you not?”

She nodded, and glistening red waves fell over her shoulders. “I would be, if I had a clan.”

“How many survived the attack?”

“I think a few of my kinsmen escaped. I don’t know how many. No word has come to me of where they might have gone.” She glanced at him, a wary curiosity in her eyes.