The Broken Land(108)
Ahweyoh searched Hiyawento’s face, clearly cataloging the extent of Hiyawento’s strain, perhaps wondering what he might do next. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Hiyawento lifted Kahn-Tineta’s chin to look into her brimming eyes. “Your mother and I must speak. Could you stay with Pedeza for a time?”
“No, Father, don’t leave me!” she wailed. “I’m afraid!”
“You’ll be all right. Go on now. We won’t be long.”
Kahn-Tineta shrieked as she ran across the house and grabbed Pedeza around the legs. Pedeza petted her hair. “Come, let’s make a cup of tea and talk.”
Hiyawento wiped his nose on his sleeve and got to his feet. He was shaking badly. “Come with me, Zateri. Outside.”
“Let me grab my cape.”
She swung it around her shoulders and followed him out of the house into the icy night wind.
Hiyawento led her to the central village fire, where a bed of coals glowed. He kept his back to her, trying to hide his face. Her heart ached for him. He was on the verge of drastic actions, but she did not know whether they were based upon grief, or rage.
A strange, eerie clarity had come over Zateri. Unlike the people in the longhouse, Zateri did not make futile anxious gestures or sob. Her souls were busy, piecing things together. The instant she’d understood without a doubt that her daughters were dead, she’d started asking why, how, and who. As the truth took shape, it loomed over her like the shadow of a dark clawed beast.
Hiyawento sank down on one of the log benches that surrounded the fire and dropped his face into his hands. She saw his wide shoulders shake and heard the desperate choking sounds he made. When he raised his head and she glimpsed his face, she swiftly went to him and sat down on the log.
“Hiyawento,” she began. His arms went suddenly around her waist, and he crushed her against his broad chest.
“Dear gods, what have I done?”
“You?” she said in confusion. She stroked his shoulder-length hair. “You’re not to blame.”
“It’s the war council. I should never have …” His grip tightened around her waist, and he began speaking rapidly, babbling incoherent words while he pressed his cheek against hers. “I knew it would be dangerous … when I agreed … but I thought … Zateri, you know I’m right!”
He continued, speaking against her hair, words blurred, indistinct, saying things she could not decipher. “Stop this,” she said. “There is something important I must speak with you about.”
“Dear Gods,” he wept, “they … can’t be … can’t be dead.”
She shoved away and forced him to look at her. His face had contorted. “Listen to me. Try to concentrate.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t think this has anything to do with your peace initiatives in the war council.”
“How can you say that? You know what they accused—”
“Listen to me. Just after Ahweyoh arrived, I heard a rumor that Ohsinoh was in Atotarho Village today.”
He didn’t seem to comprehend her implication. “The Bluebird Witch wouldn’t dare walk into a village. He’d be killed on sight.”
“Apparently, he wore elaborate face paint.”
“Face paint …” Hiyawento’s voice faded. “Like the man who … who gave our daughter the doll?”
“Pedeza heard that his face was painted white with black stripes. Think about this: He said he was a friend of ours, and that he’d known us since we were children. I think, maybe, Hehaka is Ohsinoh.”
A frightening mixture of rage and fear creased his face. “Even if he is, why would Hehaka want to destroy our family? We never did anything to him—except free him from slavery.”
“He may see things differently.”
“What do you mean?”
Two people emerged from the Snipe Clan longhouse and proceeded across the plaza. They spoke in low ominous tones as they cast glances at Zateri and Hiyawento. Already, the news must have spread through every longhouse in Coldspring Village.
“He loved that old woman, Hiyawento. Our clan abandoned him when he’d seen four summers. For all practical purposes, she was the only mother he’d ever known. He probably also saw her Outcast warriors as his family—”
Hiyawento’s bloodshot eyes fixed upon her face. “But they enslaved and tortured him!”
“Yes, but the old woman and her men were all he had.”
“ … And we killed them.”
A haunted sensation filtered through her. His words repeated in her head, spinning around, mixing with memories of Hehaka’s facial expressions from twelve summers ago. After Koracoo’s party had rescued him, Hehaka had fought like a caged bear to get back to the evil witch.