People of the River(89)

"She's been hurt, Badgertail. By Tharon, I'm almost certain." Nightshade lifted her eyes to gaze at the wall behind him.

Uneasily, he turned to examine the space himself. The square of moonlight that penetrated the doorway had transformed her shadow, changing it into an amorphous creature, dark, huge. Badgertail suppressed a shudder, worried that it might not be a shadow after all, but her Spirit Helper, Mudhead. He had listened many times to Old Marmot whisper about the enormous demon with the twisted face who followed Nightshade everywhere. Old Marmot, the great and powerftil priest, had feared that Helper as though his own soul were in jeopardy any time it appeared.

Nightshade said, "So, Badgertail, you called me here to ask me about Petaga's war plans."

"I'm not asking you to betray him, Nightshade."

"No? What are you asking?"

Badgertail met her stem gaze and noticed for the fost time the puffiness of fatigue that encircled her eyes. Had she been walking the floor at night worrying, as he had? "Tell me how to stop the killing. Can you? Do you know how I can save the chiefdom without . . . without doing what Tharon has ordered me to?"

"No."

He paused. "You don't know—or you won't tell me?"

"I don't know."

Badgertail frowned into his tea. "How can you not know? I mean, I don't understand very much about Dreaming, but I thought—"

"You thought right. I should have been able to dive through the Well of the .Ajicestors and walk the path in the Underworld to ask First Woman."

"And you haven't?"

"No."

"Can I ask why not?"

She ran a hand through the wealth of her black hair. "Apparently First Woman has closed the Underworld . . . out of anger."

"At us?"

"Yes. For destroying the land. And in punishment for something that Tharon has done. I wish I knew more, but I don't."

Nightshade shifted sideways to bring up her knees so she could prop her cup on them. Moonlight fell over her face, silvering each curve, highlighting the shadows of her cheeks and nostrils. She seemed frail and half-afraid. Her face touched something deep inside him, some illogical need to hold and pet her.

"Nightshade," he said, ""if you can't get in, who can?"

"A woman whom Wanderer is teaching. I don't know her name, but she's Powerful. More Powerful than I am."

"I didn't know there was anyone more Powerful than you."

She fumbled insecurely with her cup, as though his words had wounded her. He couldn't imagine how. Bulrush? Had he said something that reminded her of Bulrush? Or perhaps it was just being alone with a man for the first time since her lover's death.

"And that's why you want me to bring Wanderer here? So we can find out who this woman is?"

Nightshade nodded. "Yes. She's the vital link."

"To what?"

"To stopping this war."

Badgertail exhaled in relief. "That's all I needed to know from you, Nightshade. Thank you for telling me. I'll bring Wanderer here as soon as I find him . . . and I'll guard him with my very life."

Nightshade took a long drink of her tea, and Badgertail expected her to set her cup down and leave. But she didn't. Instead, she pointed to the falcon pot. "May I have more tea?"

"Of course," he said in surprise and refilled her cup, then poured his full again, too.

She smiled, and the softness of it built a warmth under Badgertail's heart. He noticed that her breathing had gone shallow. The red fabric over her breasts rose and fell swiftly.

"I also didn't know that you feared anyone," he said softly. "Least of all, me."

"If I feared anyone, it ought to be you, my kidnapper."

Badgertail looked down at the scars on his wrists. "I didn't do it out of malice, Nightshade. Old Marmot had Dreamed that you and the Tortoise Bundle could bring Mother Earth back to life."

"He didn't understand the problem here."

"You mean that his Dream was wrong?"

She set her cup on the floor, where it cast a long shadow. "Not wrong, just . . . incomplete. He didn't see far enough, or he would have known that I wasn't the one he needed. And he would have seen that your people—"

"You still don't consider us your people, after all these cycles?"

Her brow furrowed, as if the question upset her. She picked up her cup again and took four long sips to drain it, then set it back on the platter. "You will never be my people, Badgertail. You've forgotten First Woman's Dream. 'Find a new way,' she said, or we'd all be dead. 'Learn the grass, the root, and the berry.' Your people abused her Dream. You decided it was all right to take and take."

Wearily, she braced a hand against the hides and stood up. "Thank you for the tea, War Leader." She turned to the doorway.