People of the River(20)

Locust slipped an arm beneath his shoulders and cautiously lifted him to a sitting position. The wound in Badgertail's forearm stung, but worse was the bitter acid of bile clinging to his tongue. It made his stomach want to heave. His vision swam, producing double images. "Quickly, what happened?"

Locust crouched beside him. Spatters of blood flecked her cheeks and warshirt. "When one hand's worth of time passed, we attacked. We overwhelmed Jenos' forces like wolves among fawns. I brought my war party directly here, thinking you might need help."

Badgertail nodded weakly as he touched Locust's arm in gratitude. "And Woodchuck?"

"He's killing as many warriors as he can, to pay them back for perfidy. Elkhom's raiding the storage huts to collect the Sun Chief's rightful tribute." Her jaw went hard as she cast a malicious glance at the other side of the chamber. "We caught Jenos and his Starbom trying to run for the river."

Badgertail's gaze lingered on Bobcat's dead body. Tears of rage and hurt welled in his eyes before he lifted his head to seek the man responsible. But only Locust seemed to take note of his pain. She rose and took a hesitant step forward before Badgertail shook his head to make her stop.

The blazing firebowls blurred into a connected necklace of amber stones. Beyond them, at the edge of the western wall, twelve priests and priestesses in red robes huddled in a semicircle around Jenos. Through Badgertail's hazy vision, they looked like fuzzy patches of flame. Only a very small priestess, with knee-length black hair, stood out.

He put a hand on Locust's shoulder and struggled to stand. She gripped his elbow to support him until he got to his feet. His knees wobbled as he half-staggered toward Jenos. He made it to the sacred pedestal and leaned heavily against it. "Moon Chief, where is Nightshade?"

Jenos' gray bun had come undone, and the ornate, double-lobed copper pin had vanished. Wisps of hair matted his cheeks. He shook his head wearily. "I don't know."

"She wouldn't have gone anywhere without telling you. Where is she?"

"She was grieving, Badgertail. I did not demand that she provide me with the details of her plans."

Badgertail's hand tightened on the cool wood of the pedestal. As his senses returned, his body howled for him to lie down. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he had accomplished this fmal task. He inhaled a breath to steady himself and almost gagged. The scent of urine pervaded the air here. Badgertail shifted to look around the pedestal. Mallow sprawled on his side. His intestines had been ripped out and strewn like gray ropes around him. His bladder must have let go at the last.

On that hot summer day not long past, Mallow had played chunkey on the side of Light, his muscles rippling as he hurled the polished stone disk down the court. Friends . . . they'd been friends.

Badgertail wiped a trembling hand over his sweat-drenched forehead as he spread his legs to brace himself. The impact of Bobcat's death began to sink in. He motioned to Locust. "The young priestess. Bring her."

The girl cried and fought as Locust dragged her out of the circle of the Starbom and unceremoniously threw her at Badgertail's feet. Terror tightened her pretty face.

"Who are you?" he asked, forcing his voice into a calmness that he didn't feel. He wanted Nightshade in his hands now, so that he and Locust—and Bobcat—could leave this forsaken village and go home.

"I am Goldenrod. Please, I've done nothing. Don't kill me!" She prostrated herself before him. "I've done nothing!"

"Where is Nightshade, Goldenrod?"

She shook her head so violently that a black shroud of hair tumbled over her face, half hiding her eyes. "She didn't tell any of us where she was going. Leader Badgertail. I swear it!"

Locust and four men eased up behind Badgertail. He could smell the acrid odor of their sweat, see the light glinting off the deer-bone stilettos on their belts. Locust had been through this same process with him half a dozen times. She responded automatically to the tone of his voice, the slight tilt of his head.

Badgertail extended a hand and commanded the young priestess, "Stand up, Goldenrod."

She hesitantly complied, glancing from Badgertail to Locust and back again. Her thin robe, woven from the soft inner bark of the sacred red cedar tree and so rare now, clung to the curves of her body, outlining her breasts and hips.

Badgertail did nothing for a time but gaze across the room at Jenos. He could make out Jenos' shaky intake of breath; the Moon Chief's jaw quivered before he clamped it tight. The holy members of the Starbom encircling him had backed away, as if abandoning their chief to Badgertail's wrath. In the weaving firelight, the painted images on the walls seemed to move and shift uneasily.