“What’s she looking for?” he whispered a little too loudly. Every child turned to look at him.
Gannajero tore open Dakion’s pack. Dakion’s had a white beaver painted on the front, and he could see it even from this distance. As she searched the pack, Gannajero grunted softly. The longer Akio watched her, the more his fingers tightened on his nocked bow … and he wondered if she’d really seen a canoe following them, or if this was just an excuse to go through Dakion’s pack.
She continued her ransacking for a few more heartbeats, then made a satisfied smacking sound with her lips, pulled something from the pack, and tucked it into her belt pouch.
“The old witch is clever, I’ll say that for her.”
While she glanced around, she neatly tied the pack’s laces and replaced it exactly as she’d found it.
“Do you see anyone yet?” Wrass whispered.
“Stop talking!” Akio glared at him. He suspected the boy was doing that on purpose, to rattle him or distract him. “The next word out of your mouth is going to be your last. Or maybe I’ll shoot one of your friend—”
His voice faded when three faint shouts echoed through the trees. Gannajero leaped to her feet and crouched like a hunting stork. At the same instant, Akio glimpsed a shadow moving stealthily amid the dense buttonbushes—less than ten paces to Gannajero’s right.
He considered shouting, but what if it was Kotin returning to report? She’d told him to keep quiet, not to move until she called out to him.
The shadow stopped at the edge of the leafless shrubs. The slender trunks stood twice the man’s height and hid him almost completely. He …
“Your brother sends his greetings, Gannajero.”
As her gaze darted over the thicket, her wrinkled face hardened into frightening lines. “What do you want? Who are you?”
“Your brother says he’s very sorry he missed you at the big warriors’ camp last night. He asked me to deliver a message.”
“He was there? At the camp?”
“He tracked a traitor to the camp. A man who left with a Trader who specialized in child slaves.”
Akio’s pulse pounded so loudly he could scarcely breathe. What was the old man up to?
“Your brother offers a Trade. If you give him both of them,” the messenger said, “he will give you what you desire most.”
Gannajero vented a low ugly laugh. “He’s too selfish to give me what is rightly mine. It would cost him everything he holds dear. And if he was in the camp last night, he’s probably the one who poisoned my stew pot.” As she straightened, the tendons in her wattled neck stood out like cords stretched too tight.
Akio watched the messenger silently back away through the shrubs and move into the deep forest shadows. He tried to keep an eye on the man, but in less than five heartbeats, he was gone.
Gannajero kept her eyes focused on the brush, as though she thought he was still there, and a slow expression of pure hatred carved her face. “And if he’s serious about this offer, where’s the proof? He knows I have to see it!”
When no answer came, she clenched her fists and marched closer to the buttonbushes. “Tell him I want it!”
The hawk-faced boy, Wrass, jerked slightly, as though he’d been bitten by something in the old leaves. He didn’t say anything for a time; then he boldly sat up, stared Akio in the face, and said, “You should tell her he’s gone, before she—”
“Shut your mouth, boy!” Akio hissed. “Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet or I’d—”
From the corner of his eye, Akio saw the arrow gleam in the sunlight as it flashed through the trees. He let out a shriek and threw himself forward. When it drove fire into his back, Akio staggered drunkenly.
From the trees, a faint whisper said, “The old man sends you his greetings as well, Akio. He thanks you for your service, but says you’re no longer useful.”
Gannajero barked, “What’s happening?” and started running toward him. “Dakion? Ojib? Get over here!”
Blood dripped from the black chert point that stuck out of Akio’s chest. For several moments, he didn’t understand. His legs went wobbly as pain seared his chest. The bow dropped from his numb fingers and landed silently in the frozen leaves.
Wrass cried, “This is our chance. Get up! Run!” He scrambled to his feet. The children shot away through the forest like a flock of frightened doves.
Akio was still on his feet when Gannajero arrived, breathing hard, her face twisted with rage. “What did he say? Tell me quickly, before you die!”
A smile quivered Akio’s lips. “Boy … must have seen … distracted me.”