People of the River(128)

And surely Hailcloud's battle sense had been responsible for what had happened at River Mounds, too. Nightshade had not been there to f(»esee their attack, so it must have been Hailcloud who had roused the village and gotten it ready.

Locust laughed, and Badgertail shifted to watch the dice game. Flute shook the decorated bits of clay in a hollow cane container, then threw them out across the dirt. Locust clapped a hand to her forehead, moaning, while the warriors around her chuckled and collected bets.

Vole woke at the noise. Badgertail could tell only because her shoulder muscles tightened. She kept her head down, pretending sleep.

"Wanderer," Badgertail asked, "where are Petaga's forces? Do you know?"

Wanderer regarded him inquiringly. "Don't you know?"

"No."

"You're the war leader, Badgertail. What makes you think I would know when you don't?"

"I was hoping you'd Dreamed something. You are, after all, a greatly renowned shaman—^I'm a warrior."

Wanderer's bushy gray brows lowered. "Dreams aren't the province of shamans alone, Badgertail. Why, Spider and Weasel are far greater Dreamers than most humans. Did you know that?"

"Wanderer, do you always answer a question with a question?"

"Don't be silly. What would make you think that?"

Badgertail irritably focused on the sky over the weathered rocks. The molten ball of the sun perched low on the western horizon. Streaks of scarlet light shot out from the fiery fringe, puncturing the deepening blue. All seemed quiet, peaceful. Shadows lengthened across the floodplain in the distance, sending charcoal fingers over the edges of every hollow.

Badgertail remmed his gaze to Wanderer and found the old man staring back at him. Then" eyes met like the clash of war clubs. Then, just as suddenly. Wanderer's eyes regained their amiable lunacy.

Badgertail lifted a brow. "You know. Wanderer, cycles ago, I used to wonder how much of your curious behavior was feigned and how much was real. You know what conclusion I came to?"

"No. What?"

"I decided that you are the consunmiate trickster, better than Coyote or Deer at circling and trotting back over your tracks to confuse your hunter."

"Badgertail, do you think I'm being dishonest with you?"

"Are you? I suspect that you'd do anything to mislead me about the Stone Wolf and Hailcloud."

"Well ..." Wanderer straightened indignantly. "Then why would you ask me about them?"

"I was hoping that I could send you back to the Sun Chief with a message saying you had helped us. The Sun Chief might show you greater leniency."

"Really?" Wanderer scratched his cheek thoughtfully despite the awkwardness of his bonds. "Well, that would be surprising, given that leniency isn't one of Tharon's more noticeable attributes. Besides, you're forgetting that Tharon has always loathed me. Even as a boy, he used to sneak up to poke me in embarrassing places with sharp objects. I doubt that he'd show much reluctance to do the same thing now. Since he's grown into an adult, I'm sure that his toys—^as well as his aim—have gotten more lethal."

Badgertail said nothing, remembering what Tharon had done to poor Shagbark with his handspike. And there had been other times when he'd been called to the temple to help remove the bodies of luckless servants.

"Wanderer, do you—" Badgertail's head snapped around. "What was that?"

Through the warriors' voices, he had heard something soft, the crunch of a sandal in the dry plants beyond the rocks, a sandal far too carefully placed to be one of his own warriors.

''Badgertail Locust shouted in warning as she lunged to her feet.

War cries burst the stillness, and an arrow smacked the rock behind Badgertail. He dove for the ground, rolling and coming up with his war club clutched in his fist.

The rocks came alive with racing men and women scrambling for their bows. Badgertail could see enemy warriors sprinting in from every direction, shooting as they ran. How many were they? Fifty? Sixty? No . . . more. And Badgertail had barely forty-five left.

"Southwind! Take ten people. Climb the rocks. Guard the south side of camp. Flute, you take the north. I'll—"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Locust whirl and drop into a crouch as she brought up her bow, aiming over Badgertail's head before she let fly. A shriek, and a man toppled from the jagged rocks, landing on top of Badgertail in a bloody heap.

Badgertail shoved the corpse aside and crawled for his own bow and quiver, resting where he had been sharpening his Stiletto earlier. Arrows fell around him. Warriors collapsed, thrashing and screaming where they'd sprawled in the dust. Clusters of dogwood blossoms erupted in a fine spray of white petals that pirouetted around people as they ran.