The Dawn Country(58)

“Ho, Waswan!” Kotin cupped a hand to his mouth and called, “Put ashore! We need to talk!”

Waswan swiveled around and lifted a hand to indicate that he’d heard; then he gestured to the warriors paddling in the rear, and they guided the canoe to the bank. At the sight of Waswan’s ugly face, hatred flushed Wrass’ veins. The man was sapling-thin, with dark inhuman eyes and a knobby nose, obviously broken in one too many fights. Waswan had enjoyed it as he’d beaten Wrass half to death.

Someday I’ll repay the favor.

The man jumped onto the sand, followed by Akio and Ojib, who leaped out and finished shoving the canoe up onto the shore.

Wrass braced his hands on the gunwale as their canoe grounded next to the first. Kotin and Gannajero climbed out while the new man, Dakion, got into the water to continue pushing the canoe’s bow up onto the bank. When he’d finished, Dakion waded alongside Wrass and growled, “Stay in the boat. All of you.”

Wrass looked into Dakion’s bark-colored eyes and nodded. He had broad muscular shoulders and enormous hands. A thick scar marred his chin. Dakion glowered at the children, then stalked up the bank toward where Gannajero and Kotin stood.

“What are they talking about?” Auma asked.

“I don’t know, but if there really is a canoe traveling behind us, they might have seen it.”

“So … what does that mean? Are they going to try to ambush the man?”

Wrass shrugged. “We’ll know soon enough.”

Gannajero and her five warriors formed a circle ten paces from the shore near a copse of maple saplings. As the old woman listened to Kotin, she sucked her lips; her mouth resembled a shriveled berry. The greasy twists of graying hair that hung around her wrinkled face flapped in the breeze blowing up the river.

Wrass took the opportunity to crawl across the canoe and call, “Zateri? Are you all right?”

She worked her way down the length of the gunwale and sat down less than six hands away. “We’re all right. How are you feeling?”

“My headache is better, thanks to you.”

“Keep chewing the willow twigs, Wrass. I’ll gather more if I can.”

“Have you heard any of Gannajero’s conversations? What’s she so worried about?”

Zateri nervously licked her lips and leaned as far out of her canoe as she could. He did the same. From less than three hands away, she hissed, “I’m not sure, but when we rounded that last bend, I heard her tell Kotin that she thought she’d glimpsed—”

The Flint girl in Zateri’s canoe leaped out and made a run for it, dashing away through the forest. Branches cracked in her wake.

“No! Neche, no!” Zateri jumped to her feet.

Auma got on her knees as though ready to bolt after Neche, and Wrass leaped for her and knocked her flat in the bottom of the canoe.

“Get off me, you fool!” Auma shouted. “Let me go! This is our chance!”

Gannajero shouted, “Kotin, find her! Make sure the other children understand.”

Kotin nocked his bow and charged away into the trees. Thirty heartbeats later a shriek silenced the birdsong. As though nothing had happened, Gannajero returned to her discussion with her warriors.

Wrass released Auma and sat up. His head thundered. He leaned back and fought to slow his pounding heart by taking deep even breaths. Nausea tickled the back of his throat.

Conkesema and Auma stared at the place where Neche had disappeared. The shadows of swaying branches painted the ground.

“She escaped,” Auma said. “I should have run after her. I would have if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Wrass said, “If she escaped, what was that scream?”

Fifty heartbeats later, Kotin returned dragging the girl by her long black hair. An arrow stuck out of her chest, and blood soaked her dress.

Auma stood up to get a better look. “Is she … is she … ?”

“Never try to run away alone,” Wrass said. “Never.”

Kotin hauled the girl to the sand in front of the canoes and dropped her body; then his lips parted, revealing broken yellow teeth. He smiled at the children. “Which one of you is her friend?”

Conkesema was the only one brave enough to stand up. She was shaking. Her pretty face had gone pale.

Kotin said, “So, you were her only friend, eh? That’s interesting. Well, later, I’m going to cut this piece of dead meat apart and scatter the bits for the wolves. Do you want to help me?”

Conkesema’s knees failed. She slumped into the canoe with tears streaming down her face.

“Answer me!” he ordered. “Or I’ll—”

“Stop it, Kotin,” Zateri said. “She hasn’t spoken a word since her village was attacked.”