People of the River(113)

"What are you talking about?"

"Trade . . . mostly. Greed for exotic goods drives the Sunborn. You've seen it. You know what I mean. To get a shred of lace from Yellow Star Mounds, Tharon will kill babies for a five days' walk around Cahokia so that he can steal enough com to pay for it. Surely this is not new information to you?"

Black Birch lifted a shoulder impatiently. "What if it's true? Badgertail and I are fighting for the Commonborn, not for the Sunborn."

"Are you? Who will benefit most?"

"Blessed Father Sun!" Black Birch shot to his feet in anger. "The Commonborn will. They'll be alive, won't they?"

"Some things are more terrible than death."

Black Birch snorted derisively. "For instance?"

Wrenwing lowered his eyes and studied the crackling dance of the flames. "Dishonor. Sacrificing dozens of strong people so that two or three may have copper ear-spools to wear—or to keep the war leader inside his plush mound-top house inside Cahokia's palisade. My people are villagers, Black Birch. We're all Commonbom. Perhaps we can see more clearly as a result. Our eyes aren't clouded by living near the Sunbom, who find the lowest class expendable. I want to see my sister's children grow up and make lives of their own. Our clans here have to rely on each other to survive."

"What does that have to do with—"

"Don't you see? If I send my forty warriors to fight with you and they're all killed, then I will have murdered my village as well. Those forty warriors are fathers, farmers, and fishermen—not professional warriors. They are the heart of Bladdemut Village. We can survive without trade, without membership in Tharon's chiefdom, but we can't survive without our forty warriors."

"I suspect that Bluebird and Paintbrush felt the same way, young chief. That's why they're dead."

Wrenwing pinned Black Birch with worried eyes. "And if we don't join you. Black Birch, what are your orders?"

He fidgeted nervously, refusing to answer. The guards had unfolded their arms and were holding their war clubs at the ready. Their eyes glistened in the mauve shadows, making Black Birch wish he were anywhere but here. Outside, in the open, he might have a chance. The idiots. If they know that dissent means death, why don't they at least pretend to go along?

"My orders are to move south, with or without your help," Black Birch said ambiguously.

Wren wing steepled his fingers over his lips. "I see. I take it that means that Bladdemut is dead, no matter whose side we choose." Black Birch held his tongue. Then Wrenwing inquired, "Will you kill my people, Black Birch? In the same way that Petaga murdered yours? What if I promise not to take up arms against Badgertail? Hmm? If I give you my word that my people will scatter to the winds until this madness is over and then return to their homes only with the Sun Chief's approval . . . what then?"

In a low voice, Black Birch responded, "You would let your sister villages be destroyed without lifting a finger to help them? What kind of chief are you, Wrenwing? Are your people cowards? Can't you understand that unless we all pull together—"

From outside came a frantic shout. "Black Birch! Black Birch, quickly! They're coming!"

Whirling breathlessly, he faced the door as an elderly bald-headed warrior, named Bucktooth, dipped beneath the hanging. Panting, Bucktooth explained, "The enemy came up from the south, following our trail. It's surely Petaga."

Black Birch ducked out into the moonlight. Flaming arrows laced the sky like a perverted meteor shower, landing in the roofs of houses and in the parched brush. Blazes crackled to life everywhere. When Wrenwing came out. Black Birch pointed and yelled, "See! What did I tell you? Petaga has no cares for your people! If you don't join us, you're condemning all of them to—"

But Wrenwing darted away into the darkness, his guards following in a semicircle. Black Birch saw their shapes flit down toward the southern end of the village to the mouth of a small drainage. There, dozens of other shadows joined them. All vanished into the blackness beyond.

Had Wrenwing had his village ready to flee all along? Was that the only way out that the young chief had been able to see? Black Birch shook his head.

"Bucktooth, run and find Wasp. Tell her to take twenty and lead a drive along our attackers' right flank. Then find Beehive. I want him to take his men and flank them on the left side. I'll lead what's left of our forces down the middle."

When the old man hesitated, Black Birch shoved him so hard that Bucktooth fell to the ground with a soft grunt. "But, Black Birch, maybe this is just a diversion to draw us—"

"I'll do the thinking! Get up, old man! Hurry! You can see where the arrows are coming from. Petaga's forces are still bunched. If we can surround them before they disperse, we'll have them!"