Waswan trotted up and grinned. Kotin continued standing beside her, but he made no sign of assent.
From behind Sindak, a man shouted, “I’ll take what’s in your packs.”
Kotin growled, “You’ve always been worthless, Ojib! You disloyal cur!”
“Give him half the packs,” Gannajero said.
“Half!” Kotin objected. His mouth hung open. “You were going to force four of us to split four packs—that’s one each. Now you’re giving Ojib two.”
“Do as I say! You’re going to get far more over the next few summers.”
“But I was supposed to get the two Dawnland girls that you just gave away! If Ojib gets two packs, I want the other two as compensation!”
“You can’t have them. When Dakion returns, he may want to be paid, and what will I—?”
Sindak flinched when he heard the hiss of an arrow behind him and, from the corner of his eye, saw Ojib fall. The arrow had taken him through the throat. He was trying to scream, but couldn’t. Five heartbeats later, Cord appeared, slit the man’s throat to silence him forever, and then lifted a hand to get Sindak’s attention. When he knew Sindak was looking at him, he pointed to his own chest, and Sindak nodded, understanding that he was to wait for Cord’s signal. Cord slipped back into the darkness.
A flush of hope filtered hotly through Sindak.
There was no one behind him now. As Kotin and Gannajero’s argument grew louder, all attention fastened upon them.
Kotin shouted, “This isn’t the first time you’ve promised me girls and then sold them out from under me. Two moons ago—”
“Stop whining! I’ve already told you I’ll pay you for your losses when we get to—”
Sindak reached down, picked up his club, and tucked it beneath his cape. Next, he sidled forward to stand beside CorpseEye. Slowly, he lowered his hand and grasped the legendary club. As he rose again, he hid it behind his back, and it was as though Koracoo felt his hands upon the weapon. A shiver went through her. She turned to look at Sindak … and smiled.
Forty-two
A few of the Dawnland men kept glancing uneasily back into the trees, as though they sensed Cord’s presence, but the fire had obviously blinded them. They squinted, fidgeted with their bows, and turned back to watch Gannajero and Kotin. The old woman was shouting in his face.
Cord dropped to his knees atop a low hill with a clear view of the camp and pulled six arrows from his quiver, laying them out in a neat row at his side. By now, he trusted Sindak had collected weapons.
Cord nocked his bow and sucked in a deep steadying breath. As he sighted down the shaft, he heard steps just barely crunch the snow behind him.
I’m dead.
He clenched his jaw, waiting for the impact of the arrow.
When it didn’t come, he shot a glance over his shoulder. Black Cape stood three paces away with his gaze focused on Gannajero. There was a bizarre quality to the man, a stillness so total it was as though he had been standing behind Cord for thousands of summers, waiting for this moment. He had his pale hands folded in front of him, and Cord noticed for the first time that he wore sandals, as though he was immune to the cold.
“What … ?”
In an unsettlingly soft voice, Black Cape said, “She was telling the truth, you know. Our brother did sell us into slavery when we’d seen eight summers.” Heavy lids gave his eyes a sleepy expression that made their unnatural wolfish gleam even more sinister.
“You’re her brother?”
“Her twin.”
Cord saw no resemblance, except that they both had utterly mad eyes.
“Shortly after that, we were sold again, to different men in distant villages. I didn’t see her for another ten summers. She had just bought her first children.” Hatred inflected the tones, but subtly. “I was a warrior. I had been with the war party that attacked the village. She came to our camp to purchase some of the orphans we’d rounded up as slaves.” He hesitated, as though he had all the time on earth to finish this story. “At first I—I wasn’t sure it was her. Then I saw the gorget she’d made for herself. It was as though she believed she was matron of the Wolf Clan, as though nothing had ever happened to us. I couldn’t stand it. I stole the gorget and freed every child. Most of them made it home. Alive or dead. I made sure. I carried them in my arms.”
Cord slightly eased off his drawn bow. “I want to hear the rest, believe me I do, but right now—”
“Don’t kill her. The others, yes, but not her.” He spoke as though he weren’t breathing; his chest did not move with air.
Somehow, it reminded Cord to exhale the lungful of air he’d unwittingly been holding. “Why not? She is the problem, my friend. Her men are just—”