People of the River(54)

"Are you hungry, Lichen?" her mother asked.

"No, I'm only tired."

"Why don't you try to sleep? Wanderer and I are just going to talk for a short while."

Wanderer's absurd grin faded. He hung his head. "Yes, you sleep, Lichen. We won't be long."

Lichen wiggled deeper into her hides, frightened by the hurt expression on Wanderer's face, but she kept her eyes slitted to watch what happened.

Her mother knelt beside Wanderer and offered him a nutcake, which he accepted gratefully. "Thank you. Vole. It's been a long time since I've had one of your cakes." He took a bite and smiled wanly. "They're as good as I remember. . . . Thank you," he repeated.

They stayed quiet for a time, and Lichen felt the tension rise between them. Finally Meadow Vole said, "Wanderer, I wanted to talk to you about something that's happening. I don't understand it."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"Well, it has to do with Cahokia and with Tharon's mad attacks on the surrounding villages. Did you know he attacked River Mounds a few days ago?"

"No, I . . . I thought I felt something, but . . . what happened?"

Her mother ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not sure. I heard that Jenos refused to deliver the tribute that was owed to Cahokia and that Tharon went crazy. He—actually, it was Badgertail. Badgertail killed Jenos and took his head to Tharon."

"Oh," Wanderer said so softly that Lichen almost didn't hear. Grief twisted his face. "Jenos was a good man, and a good chief. I've never forgotten his kindness to Nightshade when I asked him to take her in after Tharon banished her."

"You did that?"

"Oh, yes. She had nowhere else to go, and I knew that Jenos needed her and her Powers."

Lichen's mother lowered her eyes uncertainly at the word "Powers," as if she expected Wanderer to shout at her for not having any Powers herself. "Well, the worst part is that rumors say Petaga has gone crazy, too. He was at Hickory Mounds yesterday, raving about joining forces with all of the surrounding villages and waging battle against Tharon. It's silly. Redweed is so small, yet he sent runners to ask us to join him. Tharon has too many warriors. Even if we all banded together, I don't—"

"Where's Nightshade?"

"I've heard that she was captured and returned to Cahokia, but I'm not certain that's true. I got the story from a trader who was passing through yesterday. He could have been wrong."

Wanderer sat so still that his dark eyes caught the firelight and held it as unwaveringly as mica mirrors. "Tharon must be crazy, all right. Either that or he's looking forward to having his heart cut out in his sleep."

Lichen's mother extended her hands pleadingly. "What are we going to do. Wanderer? Tomorrow we're meeting to discuss whether we should join Petaga or not. Do you think we should?"

He sighed. "If you asked me here because you hoped I'd Dreamed something, I haven't. I'm sorry. I didn't know about any of this. Except . . ."He took another bite of nutcake and chewed it thoughtfully. "Except that I keep hearing Nightshade call me, as though she needs help. But I don't know where she is, and no matter how hard I try to find her, I can't. It's as though she's lost herself, and I can't grasp onto anything to follow." He methodically finished his cake and brushed the crumbs from his hands onto the hard floor.

Her mother rose to pace before the fire. Orange flickers played in her hair. "Well, thank you anyway. If you do Dream anything—"

"I'll tell you inmiediately."

"I'd appreciate that."

Wanderer's eyes flared disconcertingly for a moment before he said, "There's something else I'd like to talk to you about. Vole."

"What is it?"

"It's about Lichen. Do you know she's been having Dreams? Powerful Dreams."

Her mother frowned in bewilderment. She swung around to stare at her daughter, but Lichen quickly closed her eyes to avoid that wounded look. It made Lichen feel bad inside, but she couldn't have told her mother. Vole always made fun of her Dreams, that or told her to go outside and play. Wanderer was the only grown-up she knew who listened to her seriously.

"No," her mother said quietly. "She didn't mention them to me. What sort of Dreams?"

Wanderer's lips pressed into a tight line. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that she's old enough now to start learning how to manage them, and . . . and I'd like to teach her." He glanced up hesitantly. "Will you let me?"

"Well, I . . . I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

Wanderer stood up and faced her. "Every time I've ever heard you say that, it meant 'no.' If that's the case, tell me now. Vole."