"I'll find one."
Checkerberry nodded her gratitude. "I thank you. And I'd like to warn you about something."
"What?"
"Tharon murdered Tickseed. If you came up from the west—"
"I did." A cold well grew in his belly. "Is that why the Horn Spoon section of the village is empty? How could two thousand people move so swiftly? Where did they go?"
Checkerberry readjusted the bundles on her arms, and a baby began to mew like a hungry wolf pup. She shushed it and rocked it gently. "I fear, Badgertail, that they went to join Petaga."
Forty
By the time Badgertail returned to the west gate, evening had given way to night. Sparkfiies blinked in the grass. The tip of Moon Maiden's face thrust above the temple like a glowing claw of bleached white. Bands of light shot through the spikes on the palisades, scattering the ground with a fringe of silver triangles. Badgertail strode swiftly toward the gate, exchanged a few pleasantries with the guards, and entered.
The mounds loomed quiet and still. Pale amber gleams fell from windows, pooling in the dead grass, but little movement caught his eye. Except for the constant motions of the guards on the shooting platforms, the sacred ground protected by the palisades had the feel of an already empty village. Had the elite fled? The great merchants and wealthy traders who lived here? The Starbom, of course, would have been forbidden that luxury, but the others might have gone, seeking safety until the war had exhausted itself.
As the logs grated back into place behind him, Badgertail searched the darkness for Elkhom and saw him standing with some others in the long shadows at the base of the stairs that led up the temple mound. Five people? Their clothing melted into the night, giving their movements an unreal quality, like lost souls materializing out of thin air; an arm waved here, a foot stepped there, occasionally a gleam of light would flash from a face.
When he walked into that gauzy blanket of darkness, he recognized Flute standing next to Elkhom and Bud worm. Wanderer stared at Badgertail through wide, inquiring eyes that verged not on madness, but on panic. Despite the chill breeze. Wanderer's wrinkled face glistened with sweat. Dark splotches showed around the collar and beneath the arms of his red shirt. Yet the old man shivered.
"What's the matter with you?" Badgertail asked.
"Power is loose on the night," Wanderer whispered. "Can't you feel it?" His eyes tipped to the moonlit heavens.
Badgertail followed that gaze, but all he saw were a few bats darting through a maze of sparkflies.
Vole edged closer to Wanderer and slipped her arm through his, not so much in affection, it appeared, as to support Wanderer's wobbling legs.
"Badgertail," Vole said, "Elkhom claims that a little girl came through the gates earlier today. I think that was my daughter. Could we hurry, please?"
"Your daughter . . . Lichen? The one with the Stone Wolf?"
Grudgingly, she answered, "Yes."
Surely, Tharon would have snatched the girl up to take the Wolf from her, but after that . . . Badgertail wondered. Tharon would have had little use for another child in the temple.
Badgertail evaded Vole's request by turning to Elkhom. "Locust and her family will be moving into my house. Assign two warriors to help them."
"Here?" Elkhom asked dubiously. "You invited Locust into the palisades?"
"Yes, and I want you personally to go to the other clan leaders and ask them to bring their clan councils here, too. I'll have to receive permission from Tharon first, but I think he'll agree that they deserve our best protection. We may need them to reorganize people after Petaga . . . when this is all over."
Elkhom caught the dread in his voice and gave Badgertail a thorough inspection. "I'll take care of it. What will you be doing?"
"I have to deliver these two—" he gestured to Wanderer and Vole "—to Nightshade and then speak to Tharon. After that, I'll be on the shooting platforms. Preparing our warriors."
Badgertail motioned to Wanderer and Vole. "Follow me. It's going to be a long night. Flute? Please accompany us."
The young man fell into line behind Wanderer and Vole while they walked up the log steps.
As they climbed, Badgertail glanced out over the jagged teeth of the palisade wall to where moonlight gleamed on the strips of creeks and tiny awl-points of ponds. Tormented longing rose within him. Thirty cycles ago, those ponds had been lakes. Why am I still here? Nothing that I loved in my youth is left. I should have run away. For an instant, the brilliant colors of the Forbidden Lands called to him in silent promise.
They stopped in front of the temple entrance, and Badgertail bowed to the Six Sacred Persons, then stepped aside to allow Wanderer, Vole, and Flute to do the same. While they made their obeisances, he looked up at the sky. Skeletal fingers of clouds drifted through the bodies of the Star Ogres. They pointed southward, as though beckoning him away from this madness.