The Dawn Country(107)
But Atotarho just replied, “One night the entire longhouse was awakened by screams. When I rushed to my younger brother’s bed, I found him sitting up, covered in blood. She was crouched beside him with a sharp chert flake in her hand, smiling. She’d sliced his throat. Fortunately she’d missed the big artery. We cared for him, and eventually returned to our blankets. Just before dawn the screams started again. She had apparently carried a rock to bed with her. She must have hidden it somewhere. She’d slammed it into my brother’s face.”
“Was he disfigured?”
Was Koracoo thinking about Tutelo’s descriptions of Shago-niyoh and his crooked nose? Odion found himself breathlessly waiting for the chief’s answer.
“Yes. Our village Healers tried to set the bones, but it was impossible. She’d crushed them.” Atotarho ran a hand over his face as though he still couldn’t believe it had happened. “A few days later, Jonodak attacked three other children. Two died from their wounds. One was the grandson of a clan elder.” He paused as if trying to remember, then said, “His name was Skaneat. He’d seen only four summers.”
No one said anything. But Odion noticed that Zateri was breathing hard.
“Why both of them?” Koracoo asked in a low menacing voice.
Atotarho seemed confused at first; then his jaw clenched. “It wasn’t my decision. I was Towa’s age, a warrior of some repute. I followed the orders of the council of elders. It tore my souls apart. You cannot possibly imagine what it was like …” His voice died as though he couldn’t continue. “You know the requirements of the Law of Retribution.”
Koracoo’s face slackened, and she saw Towa’s eyes suddenly go wide in understanding. Hehaka was gazing from one person to the next in confusion.
The chief gazed down at his daughter. “Do you understand, Zateri?”
“Yes, Father. Murder is the worst crime. Clans have a right to demand retribution.”
Gonda nodded. “Murder places an absolute obligation on the relatives of the dead to avenge the murder. They may demand reparations, exotic trade goods, finely tanned beaver robes, maybe food. They may also claim the life of the murderer, or the life of another member of his clan.”
Koracoo said, “Then the families of the murdered children claimed the lives of both your sister and her twin brother?”
Atotarho bowed his head. “They did. The Wolf Clan council ordered me to carry out the duty, but I was too much of a coward to do it. I tried. I took them out into the forest. I was a warrior. I should have been able to carry out the order without question.”
Towa silently walked forward, and his cape swung around his long legs. “You sold them and told the village elders that you’d killed them?”
Shame filled the chief’s eyes. “There is a very important lesson here, my daughter. Never, never disobey your clan elders. It’s because of my cowardice that Jonodak became a monster.”
A log broke in the fire, and sparks crackled and whirled upward toward the smoke holes.
“When did the elders discover your deceit?” Gonda asked.
“There had always been rumors. Over the long summers, many young women showed up here claiming to be her. But the elders didn’t know for certain until seven summers ago. A Trader came through saying that he’d met an insane woman who said she was the rightful matron of the Wolf Clan. Everyone laughed. Then three moons later an outcast warrior trotted in with captive children for sale. He said he’d bought them from Jonodak, who he said was now calling herself … well, you know that part.”
“Your clan must have been unhappy,” Koracoo said.
A pained smile came to the chief’s face. “The dead children’s clans were livid. They claimed the life of my son.” He gestured weakly to Hehaka, and Hehaka’s mouth fell open. “They ordered me to kill him, then to finish the job and kill Jonodak, or they threatened to claim the life of my mother, or perhaps my grandmother. I hired men. They told me they’d killed her and my son. The clans were satisfied. I didn’t know until much later that Hehaka—”
“You never came for me,” Hehaka cried in a plaintive voice. “I waited.”
Atotarho didn’t look at him. He stared straight at Koracoo with his jaw clenched.
Koracoo asked, “Why did you use Zateri?”
The chief’s mouth trembled. “I knew she was the only thing that might draw Jonodak out. Zateri was Jonodak’s only competition for the leadership of Atotarho Village. I thought if I could capture my sister and kill her for her crimes … I never thought … I mean it never occurred to me that she might actually capture Zateri.”