People of the Sea(128)

“This is hardly the welcome I expected, Nighthawk,” Lambkill said sourly.

“It’s not my fault!” the Trader whispered insistently. “These people are only third cousins! What do they know?” He dipped another cupful of fir tea from the bag hanging on the tripod. “May I offer you more tea?”

“Let’s go, Lambkill,” Tannin urged. “We’ll learn nothing else here.”

Lambkill put a hand on Tannin’s knee, keeping him still. “Don’t be so hasty, my brother. Nighthawk is a Trader. He understands these things.”

“Of course,” Nighthawk agreed as he sloshed tea into Lambkill’s shell cup. He aimed next at Tannin’s cup, but Tannin turned it aside. Nighthawk dumped the tea back into the bag. “People are all the same, no matter where you go. They have stupid loyalties. Like this passion for Sunchaser. I mean, do you know how many Mammoth Spirit



Dances he’s missed this cycle? Four. A sacred number. It’s a sign from the Spirits. Everyone says that Wolfdreamer has abandoned him and is looking for a new Dreamer to lead the sea clans.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Lambkill said with an amiable smile as he sipped his tea. “Sunchaser is missing Dances, and now he’s been seen traveling with a woman? This is interesting. But how could Sunchaser possibly have met Kestrel? I’m puzzled.”

“Lambkill,” Nighthawk said. A swallow went down his throat. He rocked forward, closer to the fire, to stare Lambkill in the face. He dropped his voice to a bare whisper. “All I can tell you is that people here think that Sunchaser is her protector. That he’s taken her under his wing. If that is so—”

“Yes. I understand.” Lambkill chuckled contemptuously. “No one will think of trying to claim my reward. They fear Sunchaser’s Power too much.”

“Exactly.” Nighthawk leaned back in relief. He almost knocked off his beaver hat when he reached up to wipe sweat from his forehead. “I’m glad you see the problem. I was afraid—”

“Oh, of course. I understand. Though I must admit, I hadn’t expected to be received so belligerently by the People of the Sea. My wife committed incest! No one condones that. I don’t care where they’re from.” “True. But…” Nighthawk heaved a sigh. “No matter what crime your wife committed, in the eyes of my people, her violations have been washed away by her association with Sunchaser. Just to be with him is to undergo a ritual cleansing. You see that, don’t you?”

Lambkill roughly swished his tea around in his cup. Tannin noticed that he’d clutched the cup so tightly that his fingernails had gone white. “The blessed Sunchaser. Yes. Kestrel’s lover was an admirer of Sunchaser’s, too.” A broad, genial smile graced Lambkill’s face. He laughed softly. “I killed him for it.”



Nighthawk’s gaze faltered. He frowned at the sand as though he’d found something very interesting amidst the grains. “Lambkill, I can’t shelter you here. Not after what Staghorn said. The people … well, they would never forgive me.”

Lambkill got to his feet and threw his teacup down on the sand. “Oh, yes, I understand, Nighthawk. You make your living by trading with these people. Of course you can’t afford to be soiled by association with me!”

Lambkill’s voice had risen to a hoarse bellow. All the eyes in the village focused on them. Grim mutterings eddied back and forth. Staghorn pulled his door flap aside and peered out. He gestured to two of his warriors. The men quietly went to their lodges and came out with atlatls in their hands and quivers of darts slung over their shoulders.

Tannin got to his feet cautiously and grabbed Lambkill by the wrist. “Let’s go, Lambkill. These people are useless to us. We don’t need them. We’ll find Kestrel by ourselves.”

Lambkill shook off Tannin’s hand and turned to glower venomously at Staghorn. In response, one of Staghorn’s warriors pulled a dart from his quiver and silently nocked it in his atlatl.

“Lambkill!”

Lambkill’s gaze shifted to Tannin. Cold. Emotionless. It was like being stared at through the eyes of a snake. Then Lambkill casually faced Nighthawk again. “Tell me one last thing, Trader.”

“What?” Nighthawk asked nervously. “What is it?”

“Have you seen four brothers from the Blackwater Draw Clan? The oldest is named Harrier.”

“No, Lambkill. I promise. They have not been here.”

“You’re sure?”

“I swear it! I have no reason to lie to you. I don’t even know who these brothers are or what they have to do with you.”