People of the Raven(32)

“I am.” He was eyeing her two guards, who had stopped several paces short of the canoe.

“May I accompany you?” She met his penetrating gaze as he tried to divine her motive. “Chief, I have been locked in that tiny lodge for too long. You said I could go where I wished.” She nodded at the boat. “I can think of no safer place than in a canoe with you. I certainly can’t spy out secrets, let alone communicate them to my bastard uncle.”

He shifted, his moccasin-shod feet sliding on the gravelly sand. “It’s a cold, gray day. This drizzle isn’t going to let up. It’s not likely to be pleasant.”

She knotted her fists, tilting her head to see him better from under the bark rain hat. “I want some time to be myself. I can’t do that while these guards follow at my heels. Nor can I find a moment’s relaxation when I am the center of everyone’s attention. Wherever I go, people stare, and I see fear in their eyes as they whisper behind their hands about me.” She pointed at the water. “No one will stare out there.”

He considered, his craggy expression betraying a deep-seated indecision.

“What?” she demanded. “Surely you’re not afraid of me.” She batted her sides with fists of frustration. “Search me if you like. I carry no hidden stilettos, no war clubs or spears. I give you my word, as matron of my clan, I won’t try to brain you with one of your paddles before fleeing to the far ends of the ocean.”

He gave the guards a wave of dismissal. “It’s all right. I’ll take the matron out. If she wants to suffer in cold misery, I do not object.”

The two youths nodded, gave her one last suspicious glance, and helped them push the heavy canoe into the waves.

Evening Star leaped in as the craft surged seaward with the receding surf only to buck as it met the approaching wave. She clambered to the bow and took up one of the pointed paddles, throwing herself into the task of driving through the breakers.

She grinned, let out a whoop. Her muscles corded and pulled as she took bite after bite with the paddle. It had been years since she—as the pampered daughter of Matron Naida—had been able to exert herself thus. As they cleared the last breaker, she found herself slightly winded, a warm tickle playing through her muscles.

Rain Bear’s canoe was made of split cedar planks. Caulked with pine pitch, it cut the waves straight and true, without listing to either side. She tilted her head, drawing the salty smell of the ocean into her lungs.

“Feeling better?” he called from behind.

“I am.”

“That was some war whoop you let loose.”

She turned, grinning, then glanced at the long poles on the canoe floor. “Where are we headed? Fishing? Are those spears?”

He chuckled. “I suppose you could say it’s fishing of a sort.”

“Do you always go out alone?” She cast a glance over her shoulder in time to catch the irony in his expression.

“Actually, I’ve been spending every waking moment building this alliance between the clans. It looked like a lull, so I thought I would get away before the next runner comes in to report Ecan’s whereabouts.” A pause. “I needed time to think without interruptions.”

“And then I came along.” She considered that, knowing full well what time alone could be worth to a leader. “Perhaps, Chief, I could help you think. And if not that, I would be willing to listen.”

“Listen?”

She watched the gulls as they glided past, craning necks to see if the long canoe offered any chance of food. “Sometimes Mother just needed me to listen. She would talk, rehash the problems she faced, while I just sat there weaving or twisting cordage. Sometimes I would ask a question and send her thoughts in a different direction. She used to tell me it helped.”

“It probably did.”

“I miss my mother. I miss the life that was taken from me. All of the lives.”

They paddled in silence then. She perched herself in the bow, easing into the rhythm of stroking with the paddle. She found solace in the constant motion of the sea, in the rise and fall of the murky brown swells and the soft whispers of water splashing off the bow.

“I fear that we are never going to live like we did,” he finally said. “Something has gone sour in our world. The council has given up wisdom for terror. The Four Old Women are afraid, and in their fear, they lash out. Now, in order to save ourselves, we must plunge our world into chaos.”

“Fear?” she asked.

“That’s what Dzoo told me. And after dwelling on it for half a moon, I suspect that she’s right.”

“What do they have to fear? They live behind the palisaded protection of Fire Village, surrounded by the finest warriors that have ever lived.”