“Captive?” the old mikko asked. “Has the war chief not considered that his warrior might have fallen in the forest and our people took him to shelter to help him?”
“Oh, indeed I have.” Smoke Shield lifted a hand, staring absently at his fingers. “The thing is, Fast Legs had obviously been in that hut for days. More than enough time for the kind Albaamaha to send a runner to Chief Sun Falcon for aid. But then, I don’t suppose any of you would have wanted Sun Falcon’s warriors to see Fast Legs. The scars where hot rocks had been dropped on his flesh were scabbed. No fast-moving party of Chahta raiders takes the time to torture a single hurt man. So I can well understand why no word was sent to Sun Falcon. Fast Legs would have told them everything, pointed out the people who had tortured him. And what would you have done then?”
“War Chief,” Sun Falcon said softly. “Do not take us to a place we cannot back away from.”
Smoke Shield gave him a scathing look before turning back to the crowd. “Very well, some want to find a solution to this. I can understand why, with the Chahta roaming our woods, killing our people. So be it, but I will tell you this! I swear on the red Power, I do not know where Red Awl is.” And I pray that Fast Legs hid his body so no one will ever find it. “If he is dead, I swear on the souls of my Ancestors, I didn’t see it happen. Didn’t order it done. I have no idea how to find him, even assuming he is dead.” He paused. “Sometimes I wonder if he really is.”
A couple of Albaamaha shot him glances from under lowered brows.
“So let us bring an end to this. Let Lotus Root make her false accusations and I will respond to them. I could be persuaded to let this thing drop if the people who took my warrior and tortured him will step forward and announce themselves. I will leave their judgment to Chief Sun Falcon, taking no part in it.”
He spread his hands. “So no one knew what was going on up there in that ravine? Is that what I am to understand from your silence? Or do you all fear some terrible reprisal in the night?” He grunted disgust. “Then let the guilty come forward tonight, alone, so that none of the innocent ones are implicated because of kinship or ties of friendship.”
Smoke Shield pointed at the darkening woods. “We cannot afford dissent! Not now. The Chahta have just reminded us of who the enemy really is. Think of their timing. We are consumed with rumors and false charges, weakened by our distrust of each other. As that festers, here come the Chahta, seeking scalps.” He lowered his pointing finger. “Meanwhile, do not forget who raced out into the forest to drive the raiders off! Remember that Sky Hand warriors stand between you and the enemies of both of our peoples.”
His gaze fixed on a pretty young woman. Her dress conformed to a perfectly proportioned body. Long dark hair hung over her shoulders, and he liked the look of her oval face, uptilted nose, and downcast eyes.
Perhaps he would pay her a visit later. The young man she stood beside would have to make do with a string of beads for compensation.
Twelve
The morning was cloudy, a smell of distant rain borne by the southern breeze. In winter, Trader had come to realize, it often warmed before a storm. The warm air enhanced the muddy smell of the river as he and Old White stood at the Feathered Serpent Town landing. Around them, a crowd of people had come to say farewell. They wore their finest dress, and he caught the smoky odor rising from their clothing. Trader saw to the loading of his last pack after reassuringly patting the war medicine box, undisturbed the entire time.
Old White was in the process of handing the two erstwhile guards small sacks of tobacco, saying, “This is narrow leaf, mixed with a plant called kinnikinik. It only grows in the far north, up toward the Western Mountains. Save it for special occasions, for there is no other like it anywhere in this part of the world.”
Chief White Bear stood beside matron Clay Bell, watching thoughtfully. “You are sure you will not stay?”
“We are Traders, Great Chief.” Old White bowed slightly. “As much as we have been delighted with your kind hospitality, and enjoyed our time at Feathered Serpent Town, we serve the Power of Trade. It now calls us downriver. Given what you have told us, there is good reason to believe that we might brighten some lives in White Arrow Town.”
“They may not have much to Trade. Most of their goods will be needed to obtain food to replace what the Chikosi burned.”
Trader signaled Swimmer into the canoe. “We shall do what we can for them. Part of the Power of Trade is to balance need with demand. If it builds goodwill, I think we can take a loss this time.” He grinned. “But next time we pass through, we’ll expect to get it back.”