People of the Raven(166)
It took Pitch a moment to recognize Cimmis when he hobbled out of the darkness. Could this be the same Cimmis who had scared the soul half out of him earlier? His face was a mask of worry, the eyes glittering as if lost. The man walked with a slight limp, his withered left arm hanging from his shoulder. He wore a blue shirt beneath a hide cape. He looked like an ordinary warrior. Nothing more. He’d even coiled his gray hair into a bun at the base of his skull—like every other warrior standing close by.
At that moment, War Chief White Stone came trotting at the head of a small party of warriors.
“Great Chief,” he called. “We have discovered what happened to the matron.”
Cimmis spun on his feet, crying, “What? Where is she? Take me to her!”
White Stone stopped short, his head cocked, puzzlement on his face. “Well, it seems that she has already left.”
“What? Left how?”
“Deer Killer was on guard at this same gate earlier today. He said that the great matron—carried on her litter by four warriors—passed through the gate.”
“I don’t understand!” Cimmis bellowed. “Was she a prisoner? Was she … Was her soul loose?”
A frightened young man stepped forward, visibly shaken. “Great Chief”—his voice quavered—“I swear, she was fine. She sat atop her litter and gave orders to the warriors carrying her. She seemed completely in control of her senses. She—”
Cimmis stepped forward and slapped the man across the face. “Why? Why did she leave me?”
The blow wasn’t that powerful, but the warrior collapsed to the ground. His voice was almost a wail when he shrieked, “I heard her say she’d see you at Wasp Village!”
Cimmis bent down over the huddled figure. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“She’s the Matron!”
Cimmis blinked, stepping back. “Yes. She’s the matron.” He shook his head in confusion. “Did she say anything else?”
“Yes! I heard her bid Fire Village farewell. But that’s all. I swear it on my life, Great Chief!”
Cimmis straightened, turning to White Stone. “Then let’s get this column moving. Someone inform my daughter.”
Where she stood beside Pitch, Dzoo leaned her head back. The sound of her laughter rising on the cold night air was unnerving.
“Separate them,” Cimmis ordered, flicking his finger between Pitch and Dzoo. Then he turned and stalked down the slope toward the muscular warriors who stood with the Four Old Women’s litters on their shoulders, awaiting orders to move. The old women resembled dark mounds of flapping hides. More litters lined the trail, loaded heavily with packs and roped with grass cords.
“I’ll see you later,” Pitch cried hopefully as Dzoo followed the shaken Deer Killer off into the night.
People stood alongside the Four Old Women’s litters, calling last words. Several wept openly and tore at their clothes.
The warrior called Thunder Boy hissed, “I swear it’s the end of our world.”
His companion, Ground Hog, a young man with wide blue eyes and copper-colored hair, shook his head. “Not yet. The reckoning is yet to come … when we meet Rain Bear.”
Wind Woman’s cold breath fanned Pitch’s hair around his shoulders. He took a deep breath and gave Fire Village one last look.
Fifty-eight
Hunter tried to look confident as he strode toward the gate. He could feel Dzoo’s presence, like a malignant wind, blowing a chill onto his back. His hair was prickling, as if someone rubbed a phantom foxhide over his skin. Of all the luck, why did Wind Scorpion constantly order him and Deer Killer to guard the witch?
The Raven People slaves milling around the fires hushed as they passed. They resembled lean hungry wolves. The few Raven People who’d decided to remain had already piled their belongings in front of the lodges they would be claiming and had posted family members to protect them, but he suspected there would still be fights. He could feel the tension in the air. When the elite were finally gone, there would be a great tumult of greed.
Dzoo’s soft steps padded behind Hunter as he walked through the gate. He glanced back to see Deer Killer, shaken and wobbly after his experience with the great chief. He was the last man who should have been assigned to this duty.
Soon, the three of them would be marching out in front of the procession like the triangular head of a snake. All night long, he’d been praying to every Ancestor Spirit he could think of that Deer Killer wouldn’t bolt, or fall first in the battle.
Blessed gods, what will I do if I suddenly find myself alone with her?
The thought must have stopped him in his tracks, because Dzoo walked up beside him. She stared him in the eyes for a long time, as though reading the path of his soul, before she walked ahead.