I call, “Thank you, Shago-niyoh,” and turn to run to Father.
Thirteen
As Grandmother Moon wavered through the clouds, the forest went from bright to impenetrably dark in a few heartbeats. The boulders two paces from Sindak resembled hunching beasts. He glanced at them, scanned the swaying pines, then folded his arms and gave the Flint warriors a lock-jawed stare. They were engaged in a discussion that sounded vaguely hostile, at least as hostile as men about to fall on their faces could sound. Koracoo and Gonda stood silently, listening.
War Chief Cord’s hood rested on his back and Sindak could get a good look at his face for the first time. His hair was shaved on the sides, in the fashion of Flint war chiefs, leaving a black bristly ridge down the center of his skull, and he had evil-looking serpents tattooed on his cheeks. He was curiously unpretentious. Most war chiefs seemed to be taken with their own wiles. Although his current lack of pretension could result from the fact that he was so tired he could barely stand, it looked genuine. When Cord shook his head at something Ogwed said, his long pointed nose cast a shadow across his cheek. “What if it was your daughter, Ogwed?” he asked. “Or your niece?”
Sindak leaned sideways toward Towa and whispered, “What are they arguing about? I can only hear part of their whispers.”
“I don’t know, but if they were smart, they’d wait until later to argue, after we’re far enough away that the Dawnland warriors can’t use their malevolent expressions as an excuse to kill them.”
Sindak replied, “I agree. I saw up close the looks on the boy warriors’ faces. I suspect any excuse to toss a piece of our hearts into their mouths would do.”
Sindak tightened his folded arms and glared at the Flint warriors. He kept catching a few words of their conversation: Flint children … can’t just … I’m going home!
Sindak said, “I don’t like them.”
“Why? Just because they’ve been slaughtering our people for generations?”
“That’s only one reason. I also don’t like their hair. They’re not going with us, are they? Surely they will continue on westward to Flint country?”
“I think that’s what they’re arguing about.”
Koracoo lifted a hand and called, “Baji? Come over here, please.”
Sindak and Towa watched the slender girl trot over to stand between Gonda and Koracoo.
“Let’s move closer so we can hear better,” Sindak said.
They both casually drifted up to stand behind Odion, Tutelo, and Hehaka.
“All right, Baji,” Gonda said, “repeat what you told us earlier.”
The moonlight tipped Baji’s lashes in silver as she looked up at Cord. “Last night in the warriors’ camp, I saw a Trader selling a Flint girl. She was about my age, twelve summers.”
Koracoo said, “Baji would know a Flint child, Cord.”
The war chief’s exhausted eyes tightened. “As I would. Just by the way she moved. Who sold her to Gannajero? Did you see?”
Baji glanced at the other Flint warriors, probably judging their moods. Ogwed was scowling unhappily at her. “He was a Flint Trader. I’ve seen him before in our village, but I don’t know his name.”
Cord said, “Was he an ugly little man with rotted teeth?”
“Yes.”
“Probably Tagohsah.”
The young warrior, Ogwed, threw up his hands. “War Chief, if we join these people, they will take us deeper into Dawnland country. Our people need us to help defend the new village while it is being built. We have no right to go traipsing off after a missing child, just because she may be Flint.”
Dzadi’s massive protruding jaw moved as he ground his teeth. “I agree, Cord. If we’d seen the girl with our own eyes, maybe, but—”
“I’m not lying!” Baji clenched her fists at her sides, daring any man to call her a liar out loud, so she could rip his throat out.
Sindak smiled. That little girl had fire in her belly. Someday she was going to be a frightening clan matron.
Cord said softly, “I believe you, Baji. And I won’t take the chance that Gannajero might have one of our children in her possession. If War Chief Koracoo does not object, I’ll send my men home and continue on with her party.”
Koracoo stared at him with unblinking eyes, as though evaluating the quality of his soul. She hesitated for a long time, clearly considering the ramifications, before she said, “Do you realize that at some point Wakdanek will ask if you were part of the war party that attacked his village?”
Their gazes locked for such a long time that everyone else started to shift and tighten his hold on his weapons. Finally, Cord replied, “I do.”