The Broken Land(38)
“Burned them?” he said in shock. “Why?”
“Those were our orders.”
Hiyawento swung around to stare back at the village. “Did you burn all of their belongings, too?”
Saponi lifted his arm and pointed to the east. “That charred pile over there? That’s where we piled and burned the blankets, children’s toys, bedding hides, and everything else.”
Disu silently climbed the rise and surveyed the stormy forest before adding, “Sindak suspects we were doing more than assuring that traitors never reached the Land of the Dead.”
The cold wind shifted, blowing directly into Hiyawento’s face. He turned away and found himself glaring at withered leaves that cupped the falling rain like small colorful bowls. The storm noise made it difficult to think. Branches smashed into each other; leaves rattled; Wind Mother’s son, Hadui, shrieked and whimpered as he beat his way through the trees—and the rain sounded like a siege, the far-off staccato of arrows slapping walls. “What do you mean?”
“He thinks we were sent to destroy evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Saponi folded his arms and glared at the trough. “Don’t you find it strange that none of us even knew they were ill, much less …”
The truth struck him like a blow. “Oh, dear gods, the stories our captives tell.” He searched Saponi’s and Disu’s hard faces. “They were witched? You were ordered here to destroy the evidence of Atotarho’s witchery?”
Saponi tilted his head uncertainly. “I doubt anyone will ever be able to prove it, but War Chief Sindak wonders. That’s all.”
“Did you find evidence of witchery?”
Disu answered, “For many moons we’ve heard rumors from passing Traders, and more from captives. No one believed them, except War Chief Sindak.”
“What rumors?”
“Strange stories. Unbelievable. About the Bluebird Witch.”
“There are thousands of stories about the Bluebird Witch, most of them silly. Which one did you have in mind?”
Saponi’s eyes narrowed to slits. “The one about him being Chief Atotarho’s son.”
The shiver started deep down in Hiyawento’s core and radiated outward until it shook his entire body. Across a gulf of twelve summers, he could hear Zateri crying far out in the warrior’s camp, and Tutelo’s little girl voice saying, “But where’s Odion? I can’t leave without Odion! Where’s my brother?” His own childish voice answered, “I’ll wait for Odion. You have to go, Tutelo. Hurry. I’ll take care of Gannajero and her men, kill them all, right down to the last breath in my body. But you have to save yourselves or it will mean nothing. Do you understand? My life for yours. That’s the Trade. Now, please, get out of here before I lose my nerve.” Faintly, as though seeping up from even deeper inside him, Baji said, “I’m coming back for you, Wrass. And I’m bringing a war party with me. Come on, Tutelo. Hehaka? Move!”
“War Chief Hiyawento?”
Saponi’s voice broke the memory, for which he was grateful. “Forgive me, I … I was remembering … his son.”
“Perhaps you should think of this, too. If a very Powerful witch can sicken a village first, all a war party has to do is wait outside the gates until most of the enemy is sick or dead; then it can go in and kill the rest with little effort.”
“And Sindak thinks that’s what happened here? The Bluebird Witch sickened them first?”
“Maybe. We didn’t lose a single warrior in the battle.”
Hiyawento rubbed his hands over his face. “I need time to think. To consider the ramifications of such a strategy.”
“Perhaps you should do that on the way back to Coldspring Village?”
“Coldspring Village? I’m not going home. I’m going on to Bur Oak Village.”
Saponi scowled out at the storm-tormented trees. “Are you certain that’s the wise course? Wouldn’t it be better to return home, convene the Coldspring’s council, and confront Atotarho about this? Every person who hears what we were ordered to do here will suspect we were covering up the truth.”
Hiyawento spread his hands. “I understand that Sindak, as the War Chief of Atotarho Village, cannot bring such a claim before his own council. Sindak would be driven from the village with arrows flying around his head. But he should at least broach the subject with Matron Tila. Tell him I said that as soon as you get home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, I’ll be going on alone from here. I don’t wish to risk your lives. But I’m grateful you guarded me to the boundary of Standing Stone country. Tell Sindak that is a kindness I will not forget.”