The Dawn Country(28)

The elders all leaned forward to examine Odion, as though trying to decide if he was telling the truth. He stared into each of their eyes in turn.

Koracoo explained, “My son, and the other children with us, were held captive by Ganna—”

“Bah! She’s dead.” Winooski waved a skeletal hand through the air. Among the People of the Standing Stone, it was an insult to interrupt a war chief, but perhaps here, if she was a woman, she did not deserve respect.

Koracoo proceeded cautiously. “No, Elder, she’s very much alive.”

“Gannajero died twenty summers ago! I don’t know who held them captive, but it couldn’t have been Gannajero.”

“I agree,” Kinna said. “Twenty summers ago every village for a moon’s walk had a war party out to kill her. Surely someone must have accomplished it. Even if she lived, why would she return to almost certain death?”

“Perhaps,” Koracoo replied calmly, “because she escaped last time, she figured she would this time. All four of the children we rescued last night confirm that their captor was Gannajero. Surely there are not two women Traders with the same name.”

“No,” Shara said with a shake of her head. “It would be a death sentence. The second would change her name to avoid being mistaken for the first.”

Maunbisek peered at Odion through one eye. It was a curious wolflike gesture that made Odion stiffen. “What is your name, boy?”

“Odion.”

To the other elders, Maunbisek said, “Have any of you ever seen Gannajero?”

Whispers went around the circle. Heads shook.

Maunbisek tightened his jaw. “No? I didn’t think so. Well, I have, and I’m inclined to believe Odion. But since the rest of you don’t, let’s test him. I saw Gannajero twenty-two summers ago. She was just getting started in her ‘business.’ My village had been attacked. I was tied up, being held hostage, when she came in to buy children from the victorious warriors. I will never forget her face—though I realize she is older now, some things never change. So, Odion, tell me what she looks like.”

Odion lifted his head, and the tendons in his neck stood out. “She has seen maybe forty summers. Graying black hair hangs in greasy twists around her wrinkled face, and her eyes are black pits. Empty. Her toothless mouth is puckered, and her nose looks like a sun-withered plum. She has a hoarse voice; it sounds like sandstone boulders rubbing together.”

While he talked, Maunbisek’s expression slackened. The old man wet his lips and looked away. “Well, that’s enough for me. The eyes and voice are the same. Believe me, once you’ve looked into those soulless eyes and heard that voice, you never forget. The age is correct, too.” He glanced at the other elders. “She’s back. And she was Trading for our children last night, buying them from the warriors who destroyed our village.”

As Grandmother Moon rose higher into the night sky, the deep wrinkles that lined the elders’ faces resembled thick black spiderwebs. They muttered softly to each other for a time.

Koracoo said, “She still has one Yellowtail Village boy, a child named Wrass—and many other children from a variety of villages. We mean to find them. We’ll be leaving at dawn.”

“Maybe you will. Maybe you won’t,” Shara said. “You said your children were being held in the warriors’ camp last night?”

“Just outside. In the forest. I suspect Gannajero is too smart to ply her Trade openly. That’s why she wore a disguise. If the warriors had known who she was, they would have killed her instantly.”

“Except for her despicable clients, you mean,” Maunbisek said.

“Yes.”

Kinna and Winooski leaned sideways to speak softly; then Kinna asked, “There were children from other villages with her, more than just Yellowtail children?

“Yes. I know for certain that Chief Atotarho’s daughter, Zateri, was there, and—”

“Atotarho?” Kinna half shouted. “He is evil! A Tsi-noo. How do you know his daughter was there?”

Koracoo frowned and glanced curiously around at the elders. “What does Tsi-noo mean? I don’t know that word.”

“A Tsi-noo has no soul. He lives by eating the souls of others. His heart is made of ice. Are you helping him?”

Koracoo replied, “We will rescue his daughter, Zateri, if we can. We will also rescue any other child who happens to be in Gannajero’s possession when we attack. Including yours.”

Nervous whispers filtered through the elders. While they talked, Wakdanek knelt beside Koracoo and quietly asked, “Did your children see any of the girls she bought last night?”