The Broken Land(100)
“Badly. It could mean civil war. The attack was not sanctioned by the Ruling Council. Coldspring Village is not the only Hills village upset by the outrage. Riverbank Village and Canassatego Village are both up in arms.”
Sky Messenger let out a breath that fogged in the cold air; then he stared up at the firelight reflecting from the aspen leaves. As the golden leaves trembled in the breeze, the light fractured and flashed in hundreds of places at once. “After everything he did to us, I don’t know how you can live here and not kill him.”
“He’s Zateri father. If I didn’t love her so desperately, I assure you”—he glanced around to make certain his warriors could not overhear their words—“I’d have killed him when I first came here. His words are like an eel in your hand, slippery. You can never quite get hold of them.”
In a warm voice, Sky Messenger asked, “How is Zateri?”
“She is well. But she’s going to be devastated that she didn’t get to see you.”
“I was hoping to see her,” Sky Messenger said, disappointed.
“You won’t. She’ll be in council for most of the night. And you, my friend, are going to have to leave here before either of us wishes it.”
“How soon?”
“Very soon. Before anyone finds out you’re here. We have, perhaps, one-half hand of time.”
“Then I should get to the point.” But he hesitated and wiped his palms on his cape.
Hiyawento noticed the action, and with great care said, “I was glad to hear that Matron Kittle reversed your death sentence.” He cast a meaningful glance at Taya. “Your vision was on everyone’s lips.”
“Yes, it’s a long story, and that’s why I’m here.” Sky Messenger massaged his forehead. “I’ve been having Spirit Dreams. I don’t know what to make of some of them.”
Hiyawento straightened. “Is there more than one, or is this the same Dream that started when you’d seen eleven summers?”
Taya’s head jerked around to stare. He’d been having the same Spirit Dream for twelve summers? Did Grandmother know that? Or any of the Ruling Council? Blessed gods, if it were true …
“It’s basically the same Dream.” Blood flushed Sky Messenger’s cheeks. Even in the pale light, Taya could see it. “It’s changed slightly over the summers. Images get added, some are deleted, as though not even the Spirits know the final shape of the story.”
“Does the Dream come every night?”
“Recently, it’s afflicted me two or three times in a night. I just abruptly find myself walking in a strange glittering world where Elder Brother Sun—”
“Covers his face with the soot of the dying world?”
Taya’s spine tingled. She glanced at Sky Messenger.
He shuddered as if he’d been doused with ice water. Just above a whisper, he said, “Blessed gods, those words are as powerful today as the day you first said them. They still strike at my heart.”
Hiyawento leaned closer to Sky Messenger. “Mine, too. I remember the day I heard them as though it were this morning.”
Sky Messenger hesitated. “Could you tell Taya the story of what happened to you that day, Wrass?”
Hiyawento was quiet for a time, as though preparing himself for the memories. “It was twelve summers ago, just before War Chief Koracoo and her search party found us. I was lying in the old witch’s canoe. The beatings I’d taken the day before had left me badly fevered. I was lying with my cheek on the cold gunwale when a man walked through the water toward me. He had a bent nose, like one of the Faces of the Forest.”
Sky Messenger whispered, “Shago-niyoh. The Voice.”
Taya sat down hard in front of them. Her knees had gone weak. Sky Messenger’s Spirit Helper had also come to Hiyawento? That meant Sky Messenger might not be a mad fool. “Then what happened?”
Hiyawento’s dark eyes took on a troubled expression. “I was afraid. I asked him if he was one of the hanehwa.”
Instinctively, Taya’s gaze went to the forest, searching for flits of gray slipping between the trees. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘We are all husks, Wrass, flayed from the soil of fire and blood. This won’t be over for any of us until the Great Face shakes the World Tree. Then, when Elder Brother Sun blackens his face with the soot of the dying world, the judgment will take place.’ I swear the words are burned into my afterlife soul. I hear them in my sleep, on the war trail, when I’m playing with my daughters. I wish I knew what they mean.”
The lines at the corners of Sky Messenger’s eyes pinched. He shoved his cape aside and reached into the red Power pouch tied to his belt, where he drew out the splinter of charred skull. Attached to it was a tightly wound strand of black hair that had been tied with a cord—as though it were precious to him—and she wondered if it belonged to Baji.