He shot her a glance from the corner of his eye. “We just got here. There’ll be plenty of time for that after the council.”
“I love optimists.”
He was puzzled by her, and still more than a little off balance by what had occurred that night in his lodge. He hadn’t been prepared for the passion of their lovemaking—either for his reaction, or for how she had clung to him as her body tensed and undulated under his.
Nor was that all. Since their coupling she had changed. He’d been surprised by the emergence of a cutting wit and subtle but dry sense of humor. He had heard her laugh, and periodically, a sparkle lit her blue eyes.
A terrible longing grew within him. More than anything, he just wanted time to learn her moods, see her laugh. From somewhere came the memory of Cimmis’s offer: He could leave. Take this marvelous woman, load his canoe, and paddle off into the north with his family. They could build a lodge on one of the small islands, fish, pick berries, and live out their lives.
If only … if only …
Dogrib reemerged from the lodge; his long white hair blazed in the morning’s yellow gleam. He waved Rain Bear forward. At that moment the other chiefs emerged from the trees, maintaining the fiction that they had all arrived together.
Rain Bear nodded to this one and that, wondering if the old lodge would hold them all. Before he could enter, Dogrib grasped his arm and whispered, “There is a new war chief here: Brush Wasp. Says he’s Gray Owl Clan from Trailing Raspberry Village. I don’t believe it.”
“Why not?” Rain Bear whispered and glanced at the two guards.
Dogrib’s eyes bored into Rain Bear’s. “Look at his earrings.”
Rain Bear followed the others under the flap into the council.
Nearly two tens of chiefs packed themselves in two concentric circles around the fire. The chiefs formed the inner ring while their war chiefs knelt behind them. Rain Bear knew Brush Wasp instantly. The rough-looking young man sat cross-legged to his right, alone. He had seen perhaps twenty summers, but the battles he’d fought showed on his face. A long scar cut across his forehead, as though someone had almost succeeded in scalping him. He obviously had no chief here. His appearance would have meant little were it not for his earrings. They had been beaten from copper nuggets.
Copper was the property of the North Wind People. The rare nuggets were jealously guarded and only given to Raven servants for the most meritorious of service.
Had Brush Wasp simply forgotten he was wearing them?
The grizzled old Talon nodded as Rain Bear walked around the circle. He and Evening Star took seats beside Goldenrod, Dogrib settling close behind them. They made a stark contrast. Goldenrod was twenty-six and wore his black hair coiled in a stern bun over his right ear. Evening Star, on the other hand, had left her long hair loose. It fell over the shoulders of her elk suede dress in glossy red waves. It seemed that all eyes were upon her.
Goldenrod whispered, “The warriors outside are growing restless.”
Rain Bear raised his hands to the assembly. “I pray that the Ancestors will watch over us today and grant us wisdom. We have many decisions to make.”
Chief Black Mountain leaned forward. His bulbous nose and shoulder-length graying black hair shone, as though freshly washed. “Let’s begin with the boy’s ‘vision.’ We have all heard the stories. It is said that Ecan’s son flew on the back of Thunderbird. That Thunderbird told him how to stop the war. Do you believe it?”
Whispers eddied through the lodge. Several chiefs shook their heads in doubt.
Rain Bear looked around the room, meeting each pair of eyes. “Rides-the-Wind believes it; so, too, does Singer Pitch. As to whether I believe it? Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve always placed more faith in the actions of men and women. But I was there for part of it. Something happened to the boy. I watched him prepare, and I saw him after he came out of the lodge. Much of what happened to him cannot be explained. How did a boy inside a lodge get soaked while the rest of the lodge remained dry? How did he get the scratches that he said were from branches?”
“I saw him at the Moon Ceremonial,” Talon said reverently. “A shaft of white light fell only on him. He seemed to glow in the night.”
“His little dog took a message to the gods,” old White Flicker added. “The Soul Keeper himself saw the dog rise like smoke.”
Several grunts of assent followed this. Rain Bear said nothing, but wondered at the awe in so many of the chiefs’ eyes. They wanted to believe.
Black Mountain was among the skeptics. “What was in this vision, Great Chief? What did the boy say? That he can do what? Turn himself into a shaft of white light and burn the Council away, or send his Spirit Dog to rip Ecan’s throat out? Or will he simply walk up to Fire Village and order Cimmis to leave us alone?”