The Dawn Country(46)

“What isn’t good?”

“This entire area is a morass of crisscrossing trails. All night long, hundreds of warriors tramped around obliterating each other’s tracks. Then Wind Mother whirled ash over everything.” He spread his arms in a gesture of futility. “I don’t know how we’re ever going to find—”

“Don’t give me excuses,” she replied coldly. “Start looking.”

Gonda clenched his jaw, nodded, and walked away.

“Mother?” Odion was shaking, but just barely. Only his shoulder-length black hair quivered. “Gannajero’s camp was over there, where those dead bodies are.” He pointed with the stiletto.

Koracoo turned. The bodies sprawled beside a smoldering fire pit. Next to it, a pot hung from a tripod, and a large woodpile stood beside it. “Is that the pot Wrass poisoned?”

“Yes.”

“Where did he get the poison?”

Tutelo piped up and proudly said, “Zateri found it, Mother. She knows Spirit plants. As we marched, she collected thorn apple seeds, swamp cabbage root, and spoonwood leaves. She hid them in her legging.”

Sindak’s heart twinged. He hadn’t known the girl well. Zateri was a chief’s daughter, not allowed to fraternize with ordinary warriors, but he remembered her bright smile and sparkling eyes. She’d been studying to become a Healer. How strange that she’d first use her knowledge to kill … and thereby save her friends.

Wakdanek frowned. “Even small amounts of those plants would be enough to kill several people.”

“And she collected a bag this big.” Tutelo put both her fists together to show the size.

Wakdanek stood for a moment, staring at the pot, then walked toward it. While he knelt and sniffed the contents, Sindak scanned the forest. Between the trees, scrub thickets of nannyberry bushes and prickly ash saplings spiked up. To the south, he could see the hill where they’d hidden last night; it appeared and disappeared in the shifting haze.

Koracoo suddenly looked down at the war club in her hand and frowned. After a few instants, she switched it to her other hand, as though it had grown too hot to hold.

“Koracoo?” Sindak asked. “What’s happening?”

War Chief Cord caught the panic in his voice and stared hard at Koracoo; then his gaze dropped to CorpseEye. Like every other warrior in the world, he probably knew the war club’s magical reputation.

Koracoo didn’t answer. As though CorpseEye was tugging her to the north, she turned toward the long rocky ridge covered with spruces and white walnuts that sloped down to the river. “What’s down there, Odion? Where the rocky hill meets the water?”

The boy pulled his moosehide blanket tightly around his shoulders. “I don’t know. We never went over there.”

War Chief Cord said, “It’s a canoe landing. Forty or fifty canoes were beached there last night. I—”

Wakdanek interrupted, calling, “This pot was poisoned, all right. In addition to everything Tutelo named, Zateri also added a good deal of musquash. The parsnip smell is very strong.”

Koracoo slowly worked her way toward him, searching for anything in the frost or wind-blown ash that might be significant. Sindak, Cord, and Towa placed their moccasins in her tracks, as though it would make a difference in a clearing covered with ash-filled indentations.

Behind him, Sindak heard children walking, but didn’t turn to look. His gaze had focused on the dead men around the campfire.

Koracoo stepped wide around a looted pack. Broken strings of shell beads filled the bottom and sprinkled the ash-sheathed frost. She passed the bodies and went to the stew pot where Wakdanek stood.

When Sindak closed in on the first body, his eyes narrowed. Beneath the ash, the man’s arms were twisted at impossible angles, suggesting he’d died in convulsions. He looked at the others. One man, a muscular giant, still had his hands clutched around his own throat. Their deaths had not been easy.

Towa slowed down and waited for Sindak to catch up, then said, “Isn’t that War Chief Manidos?”

“From the Mountain People?” Sindak studied his contorted features. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

Last summer, Manidos had assaulted Atotarho Village with over five hundred men. Atotarho’s War Chief, Nesi, had organized a brilliant defense and driven Manidos back; then they’d pursued his fragmented war party for two days. Sindak and Towa had been there. Nesi’s warriors had killed over half of Manidos’ men before they’d reached home.

“Were all of these warriors Gannajero’s men?” Koracoo asked.

Baji walked around to the body of a tall skinny warrior and said, “This one was. His name was Chimon. I don’t know about the others. She hired a lot of new men last night.”