People of the Raven(159)
“Thank you, Starwatcher.” She turned to peer about.
“Er, you are more than welcome, Great Matron.” He seemed confused over what she would thank him for.
“My husband was sending four warriors to carry some things. Where could they be?”
Ecan glanced at the packs. “Four warriors, for these?”
As she started to speak, she caught herself. By the Spirits of the night, was she that doddering? She took a breath. “Oh, I need not bore you, Starwatcher. I’m sure you have important things to do.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands.
Her litter was behind the door. But even if he’d seen it, he wouldn’t suspect. No one would. Not even her husband, who thought he had planned for everything.
The first sliver of sun glimmered on the eastern horizon. As Old Woman Above carried the glowing orb through the thin layer of clouds, yellow light lanced across the mountain slopes, falling in golden ribbons on the treetops.
Pitch had been rudely pulled from Dzoo’s lodge before he even had the chance to relieve himself. He was prodded past the Council Lodge, and up the path that led to Cimmis’s lodge. Slaves watched them pass with wide eyes.
“Where are we going?” Pitch asked the guards as they shoved him from behind.
The younger man prodded him with his spear. “Just keep moving.”
Pitch had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. From the instant he’d left Sandy Point Village, he’d feared being interrogated by Cimmis, or Ecan, or both. He wondered what it felt like to have someone cut a slit through his abdomen, reach inside his living body, and pull out a length of intestine. He knew that people screamed for hours as loops of their guts were slowly roasted. The sizzling sound was said to drive one mad long before pain and thirst could kill.
They halted before Cimmis’s lodge, and the guard announced, “He is here, my Chief.”
“Bring him.”
One of the guards pulled the door flap aside and gestured for Pitch to duck under. He stood blinking to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim reddish glow cast by the fire. A hissing sound came from the middle of the room. He tried to focus on it, and saw a black form shift.
Cimmis knelt beside the fire with a large basket, a plain wooden bowl, and two dozen spears resting on the floor beside him. He wore a knee-length buckskin shirt, and his gray hair hung loosely about his shoulders.
Cimmis said, “Come over here.”
As Pitch walked across the floor, Cimmis removed the lid from the basket, and the hissing grew louder. He reached inside, grabbed at something, and drew out a writhing snake.
Pitch jumped back.
Cimmis held the rattlesnake behind the triangular head, but its long body twisted as it wrapped around Cimmis’s arm. The tail made a constant angry shishing.
“Sit down. We must talk.”
Pitch forced a swallow down his tight throat and squatted. His hide cape spread across the hard-packed floor.
Cimmis deftly hooked the snake’s fangs over the lip of the bowl and worked its jaws to drain the venom. As the fluid trickled out, he said, “Who is the traitor?”
Pitch stared at him. “What traitor?”
“The man who carries messages between Dzoo and Rain Bear. He’s very clever. I almost had him twice, but he slipped away.”
Cimmis stood and dropped the snake back into the basket. Wild hisses and furious rattling rose. The basket rocked. How many snakes were in there?
“Ecan thinks it’s Red Dog.”
“I don’t know Red Dog.”
“No?” Cimmis smiled. “Well, perhaps he goes by another name when he is in your village. He’s an old warrior, gray-streaked black hair, bent nose. About this tall.” Cimmis held up a hand. “Have you seen him?”
“There are ten tens of refugees there. I can’t know them all.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the camps around Sandy Point Village are very large, and more people arrive every day, don’t they?”
“They do.”
He had the terrible feeling this was all staged, like the spring Kelp Dances. Cimmis knew the answer to every question he asked.
The old chief lifted one of the spears from the floor and dipped the obsidian tip into the poison. “I’m debating which of you to kill.”
Confused, Pitch asked, “Who? Me or this mysterious Red Dog?”
“I’ve already given orders to have Red Dog killed the moment he sets foot inside the palisade. I mean you or Dzoo.”
“Why should you kill either of us?”
Cimmis smiled, laid his spear aside to dry, and picked up another. “Because I don’t like being betrayed. Killing you sends a message to Rain Bear. Killing Dzoo sends a message to the Raven People.”