The Dawn Country(77)

“Toksus!” Wakdanek shook the boy again. Toksus’ body flopped like a soaked corn-husk doll in the Healer’s muscular arms. For a protracted interval the light seeped from Toksus’ eyes until he stared vacantly at the afternoon sky.

“Is he dead?” Hehaka demanded to know. His batlike face contorted.

Odion walked over to him and said, “It wasn’t your fault, Hehaka. He’d been witched.”

Wakdanek clutched the child to his chest and held him, but thoughts churned behind his frantic eyes. As though he was dealing with priceless statuary, the Healer placed Toksus’ body on the ground and rose to his feet. His huge fists balled at his sides. He seemed to be straining against the overwhelming desire to commit murder.

“Wakdanek?” Koracoo called. “Why don’t you join us? We need to talk.”

It wasn’t good to give men too much time to whip up their rage. It was like a dam being filled with runoff. The instant a trickle went over the edge … the flood washed away the world. I have to force him to think.

“Was it poison?” she asked.

The man wiped his eyes on his sleeve as he walked over to join their circle. The blend of shock and rage had left him shaking. “What did h-he tell you before I arrived?”

“You heard most of it,” Koracoo said, speaking calmly and clearly. “He said Gannajero had stabbed the other boy, then forced your cousin to catch his last breath. After that she cut out the eyes—”

“Yes, I know all that, but there must have been more.”

“Your cousin said that he walked all night to get here, and had to rest, and that when he awoke from his nap, he found the other boy lying beside him.”

Wakdanek tilted his head and blinked as though trying to figure it out. “Someone carried the other boy here and placed him beside my cousin while he slept?”

“Apparently.”

“But … who would do such a thing? And why?” Wakdanek started flexing his fists.

Koracoo glanced around at the men’s faces. Sindak and Towa seemed to sense the danger. They gripped their war clubs harder and edged back slightly. Koracoo stood her ground.

“Come with me. I want to show you something. Sindak and Towa will understand immediately. I’ll explain the history to you as we march back to meet Gonda and Cord.”

She guided them over to the dogwoods and used CorpseEye to lift the branches so that the three men could see the tracks.

Towa sucked in a breath and dropped to his knees. “Are they the same?”

“I think so. Take a good look. I need to know if you agree with me.”

Sindak fell into a crouch beside Towa, and while they discussed the herringbone sandal tracks, Koracoo rose to face Wakdanek.

“We’ve seen similar tracks before,” she explained.

“Where?”

“Everywhere Gannajero travels.”

Wakdanek frowned at the ground. “One of her hanehwa?”

“Skin-beings wear sandals?” Sindak asked, confused.

“They are like ghosts. They wear whatever they had on when they died,” Wakdanek said. “But I—”

“It’s Shago-niyoh.” Odion’s voice rose from right behind Koracoo.

She turned to look at her son. Odion was standing less than one pace away, sucking on his lower lip, trying to see what Sindak and Towa were doing. His shoulder-length hair dangled over one brown eye.

“Who’s Shago-niyoh?” Wakdanek gently asked.

Odion wet his lips, as though he feared no one would believe him. “He helped us escape Gannajero. He’s very powerful.”

Tutelo said, “He’s a human False Face.”

Koracoo frowned. “Why haven’t you told me this before now?”

“You were busy, Mother,” Odion softly replied.

Koracoo heaved a breath. She had been busy, apparently too busy to ask her own children the kind of questions that would have helped her understand what had happened to them. With as much patience as she could muster, she said, “Odion, I need to know everything that happened. Every detail.”

Tutelo walked up to stand behind her brother. “Mother, Shago-niyoh used to come visit us in Gannajero’s camps. He—”

“That’s true,” Baji said. “I think he’s a Forest Spirit that takes care of children.”

“Takes care of children? Is he … ?” She waved CorpseEye in frustration. “Is he a child?”

Odion shook his head. “I’m not sure what he is, Mother. Gannajero calls him the Child, but I’ve never gotten a good look at him. Sometimes … I think he’s a—a crow. He seems to be able to fly. Other times … maybe a wolf … he runs so fast. I …”