Pitch held his breath, listening.
Ecan’s deathly quiet voice called, “Well, well, Red Dog, imagine finding you here.”
Pitch rose to his feet, but Dzoo stopped him short when she asked casually, “Tsauz said Ecan would die?”
He frowned. It took him a moment to understand; then he replied, “Poor little boy, he’s frightened half to death for his father.”
“Why didn’t Tsauz ask you to tell Ecan?”
“I—I think he was afraid.” Pitch shrugged in mimic. “How does a boy like that tell his father he’s going to die?”
“But if Ecan is going to die before he gets to Wasp Village, something must happen on the trail. Is he killed in the fighting?”
Pitch tried to decide what to say next. Outside, an unearthly silence had descended. Ecan’s ears must be trained on their voices. “Tsauz didn’t tell me, Dzoo.”
She lowered her voice and said, “Death has already wrapped its tendrils around Ecan. That cannot be changed. What of Tsauz? Does he survive?”
They continued talking for what seemed a long time, making up this and that.
“You’ve heard enough,” Ecan growled outside. “Get out of here, Red Dog. And don’t go spreading their poison, or I’ll slice your liver out of your body.”
Steps sounded as Red Dog left, followed shortly by the wavering of Ecan’s departing torch.
When the same two guards returned to their door, Pitch slumped to the floor, breathing hard. He whispered, “I don’t understand. What is—”
Dzoo clenched a fist to order silence. “You must be exhausted, Pitch. Why don’t you try to sleep?”
So. Even at a whisper, it was not safe to discuss Red Dog. Pitch’s thoughts twined around that fact.
Dzoo paced back and forth in front of the fire, clearly distressed. Firelight sparkled across her beaded dress.
Pitch curled up on the buffalohide, but his heart pounded like a drum at a ceremonial.
“So much at risk,” Dzoo whispered to herself.
Fifty-one
“Those were her exact words?” Kaska asked.
“Yes.”
She stood beside Sand Wasp outside her lodge in Salmon Village and gazed up at the glittering Star People who arced like a giant wheel around the cone of the mountain.
When she’d been notified that Sand Wasp had returned, she’d risen straight from her husband’s arms. She must look it. She was barefoot, and long red hair streamed over her cape. “Do you think Rain Bear can do this?”
Sand Wasp braced his hands on his hips. “With enough warriors, he and Evening Star can do anything, Matron.”
The soft hum of conversations radiated around Salmon Village. She could hear children crying and dogs barking. Old Woman Shuffling Feet snored loudly, as she had for as long as Kaska could remember.
It was so hard to imagine anything but this. Where would she go? What would she do? She had taken for granted that her two-summers-old daughter would grow up as she had: beloved and respected, with everyone knowing she would eventually be the matron of Salmon Village. She loathed the idea of telling little Sotic that instead of being one of the most powerful women in their world, she was going to spend the rest of her life in hiding, trying to scratch out a living with her bare hands. Assuming, that is, that a band of bloodthirsty Raven People didn’t smack the brains out of her little skull first.
“How many warriors does Rain Bear have?” Kaska asked.
“Ten tens at most. Those are his trained warriors. In addition he has plenty of hunters, fishermen, old men, and boys. They’re mad enough to fight, but probably won’t stand when they see their best friend shot through the guts with a spear.” The long scar that slashed Sand Wasp’s forehead gleamed whitely when he turned to her. “If we add our warriors to his, however, we’ll even the odds. If not, he will be badly outnumbered.”
Wind Woman rushed up the slope, and the hem of Kaska’s cape flapped around her legs. Her toes were quickly turning to ice. “What is your advice, War Chief?”
“I cannot advise you, Matron, beyond telling you that joining an alliance of Raven People to make war on North Wind People makes me most uncomfortable.”
“A bit like sleeping with a rattlesnake, isn’t it?”
“Very much so, Matron.”
Kaska smiled wanly. On the night of Gispaw’s murder, her mother had told her, The North Wind People are doomed, my daughter. Leave now. Take your family and run. Kaska had, of course, vehemently disagreed.
That was two moons ago.
After her mother’s murder—and so many others—she had begun to fear that Mother may have been right. If the Raven People didn’t kill them, her people would murder each other just for spite.