The Broken Land(41)

It isn’t a question. She cocks her head, waiting for me to comment, probably to deny it. Claiming to be the prophesied human False Face is like saying you are Elder Brother Sun, or the good hero twin, Sapling.

I answer, “I don’t know what I am. But I know what I must do, and it will take every ounce of strength I have to accomplish it. If you become my wife, your clan will expect you to help me stop the coming darkness. Can you do that?”

Taya lifts her chin in a superior manner. “Probably not. No. What you do about your Dreams is no affair of mine.”

My heart suddenly tastes like dust, dry as a bone, struggling to beat in the shadows of a circling flock of vultures.

“Well,” I say through a long exhalation, “at least we know where we stand.”

Taya draws herself up. “You were an excellent deputy war chief. I’ve heard War Chief Deru tell stories about you …” She says all this while her gaze bores holes into me. “Even yesterday he told Grandmother that if he had just two dozen men like you he could conquer the world. If you really wanted to be useful, you would return to the war trail.”

“Deru … defended me?” The warm bowl in my hands lowers, and the rain on the roof sounds suddenly loud.

“Yes. He said he didn’t blame you for following your Spirit Helper. He told Grandmother he would have done the same if he’d been called into the forest by his Helper.”

My heart transforms into a tight fist that makes it difficult to breathe. The night I vanished, he must have known in less than one hand of time that I’d betrayed him. How can he forgive me so easily?

I have been purposefully avoiding Deru, hiding from the accusations in his eyes. Now I know I must seek him out. “I am ashamed of myself,” I say. “I should have gone to him immediately.”

“Why?” She looks truly confused.

I stare at her. Her inability to grasp honor is especially disheartening. I eat more of the warm mush.

Taya watches me. Her eyes are deep dark pools. “If we marry, you will work very hard, won’t you, to make certain your disgrace does not taint our children?”

There’s so much more at stake than children. I hesitate.

The elders of the Bear Clan say marriage is the price I must pay for my actions on the war trail. I no longer have the luxury of being an “oddity.” I must be a productive member of the clan. As must Taya. Even if we are betrothed, we cannot actually marry until she is carrying my child. That’s how she proves her worth to my clan. Soon, perhaps before these negotiations are finished, I may be asked to begin sleeping in her bed, in her longhouse, and obeying the orders of her clan matron—as is the way of our people, where, after marriage, a man moves to his wife’s village. I will do my duty to my clan, but … Baji’s smile appears just behind my eyes, filled with the candor of one who knows my darkest secrets and needs, and is unafraid … .

A stunning sense of loss paralyzes me for an instant. I can’t move or think. I stare unblinking at the far palisade. All I see is Baji.

“You haven’t answered me. Why not?” Taya says in an annoyed voice.

I force myself to eat the last bites of mush and hand the empty bowl and spoon to her. Rain pounds the plaza, creating a drumlike cadence. A lone puppy trots through the downpour with his tail between his legs.

My clan believes this alliance is crucial.

Bluntly, I say, “If either of us survives to have children, then we’ll talk about it. And, now, excuse me. I must see Old Bahna.”

I bow to her and stride across the plaza for the Turtle Clan longhouse.

“But I’m not finished speaking with you!” she calls after me. “Come back here this instant!”

I walk faster … .





Seventeen

Koracoo ducked into the Turtle Clan longhouse in Yellowtail Village. While she let her eyes adjust to the darkness, she listened to the voices. She might not be able to see the people, but they saw her. Whispers ran the three-hundred-hand length of the house. Koracoo shivered in the warmth and began walking down the center aisle, past ten compartments and five fire hearths, before she reached Old Bahna’s compartment in the middle of the house.

Sky Messenger and Bahna looked up at her expectantly as she removed her wet cape and dropped it beside the hearth where they sat with tea cups in their hands. Clearly, they’d been having a serious discussion. Firelight shadowed the deep furrows in Bahna’s elderly face. He had seen fifty-three summers pass. Thin gray hair lay like spiderwebs across his leathery cheeks. He looked up at her with kind eyes. “What is the news, Speaker?”

Sky Messenger’s jaw clenched, preparing himself for the worst.