“I …” He shifted his weight to his opposite foot. “Speaker, your son and I have had a pact since we were boys. I do not repeat the things he tells me. Not even to his mother. But the Traders are saying that Sky Messenger has foreseen the end of the world. They say Elder Brother Sun will burn to a blackened husk and his ashes will fall from the sky.”
She waited to see if he’d tell her which parts he knew were embellished, but he did not.
She said, “If you do not object, War Chief, I’d like to speak with Kittle first, to prepare her for your arrival. You are traveling under a white arrow, but she’s unpredictable. I’d like to be able to send you back to Zateri with your head still upon your shoulders.”
“I’d like that myself. Kittle is reputed to—”
“Wrass!” Tutelo called when she reached the edge of the meadow and recognized him. She broke into a run, her long black hair flying out behind her as she thrashed through the leaves and threw her arms around him. “Wrass, blessed gods, what are you doing here? It’s good to see you!”
Hiyawento clutched Tutelo to his chest, as though he never wished to let her go. “You’re beautiful, Tutelo. I always knew you would be. Are you well? You have two children, yes?”
Tutelo pushed back with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Two girls. Little terrors.”
Hiyawento laughed. “You married a man of the Hawk Clan, if the stories the Traders tell can be trusted.”
“Yes, Idos. He’s a good man.”
“And a fine warrior,” Koracoo praised with a smile. “Now, enough pleasantries. We are standing out in the open with an Outcast who has been assessed a traitor to our nation. We are all risking our lives. Tutelo, return to your longhouse and tell no one, not even Idos, that War Chief Hiyawento is here. Later, if there is time, we will all have a chance to speak together again.”
“Yes, Mother.” But she paused and gave Hiyawento a heartbreaking smile. “Just in case I don’t see you before you go, I love you, Wrass. I always have. I want you to know that I’ll never care what my people call you or Zateri. You’ll always be two of my greatest heroes.” She turned and walked away.
As she rounded the palisade wall, Wrass turned away, but not before Koracoo saw the sheen in his dark eyes. He stood for a moment with his head down, collecting himself, before he said, “I miss them so much.”
It touched Koracoo’s heart. “As they do you. I do not think a day has gone by in the past twelve summers that one of them hasn’t mentioned your name. Yours or Zateri’s.”
The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, as though wishing for things that could not be. “Where do you want me to wait while you speak with High Matron Kittle?”
“I’ll leave that decision to my war chief.” Koracoo turned. Through the weave of branches, she could see Deru standing on the catwalk, staring down at them. The crushed bones of his face cast odd shadows. She lifted a hand to him, then turned back to Hiyawento.
“As of this moment, you are under my protection. War Chief Deru will guard you until I return.”
“Thank you, Speaker.”
When Deru strode around the palisade and headed toward them, Koracoo started back for the village. As they met on the trail, she told Deru, “He bears a message from the Ruling Council of the Hills nation. I’ve given him my word that no one will harm him. Protect him.”
Deru nodded. “With my life, Speaker.”
Twenty-five
The forest had gone silent. Snow fell out of the dusk sky, spiraling down, flecking the bare tips of the oak branches and frosting the pines. Out across the Forks River, the white veil wavered like a scarf blowing in the light breeze.
Taya winced, bent over, and cracked another branch from the base of a pine. As she placed the branch on the growing pile in her left arm, her shoulders ached with fiery intensity. For four days, they’d been paddling from before dawn until well after Elder Brother Sun journeyed into the underworlds to sleep—or rather, he’d been paddling. She’d paddled some, mostly when it seemed certain they’d overturn in the rapids if she didn’t.
A foot rustled in the dry ferns to her right. She stole glances at her companions. Gitchi lay curled up a short distance from where Sky Messenger fished. The old white-faced wolf had covered his nose with his bushy tail and appeared to be sleeping, but every time she made a tiny sound the wolf opened his eyes and stared at her.
Sky Messenger cast out his net again. Every now and then, he’d pull it in, remove any fish he’d caught and drop them on the bank, then toss it back into the current. Their canoe rested four paces away from him, its white birch hull almost invisible in the snow. Her gaze returned to Sky Messenger. His eyes had gone dark and brooding. He’d barely touched her since that night in the longhouse when he’d loved her with such tenderness and passion, and she didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was just that he was as tired as she at the end of the day, but it felt like more. Though she had little experience with such things, it felt like his souls were occupied with that other woman, the one he had loved and lost. That bothered her more than the fact that she was traveling through enemy country with a man who refused to carry weapons. After all, she was his betrothed.