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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear

People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) (28 page)

BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)
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A
fternoon sunlight broke through the clouds and fell across the forest in pale glittering streaks. Changing shafts of light played soundless patterns across Sandy Point Village. People, exhausted from the ceremonies, mostly slept or lounged around.
Rain Bear was half surprised when he found Tsauz still sleeping, but as he flipped off his covers, the boy awakened.
Dragging the dead dog, the boy followed him out into the trees to attend—under the eyes of the guards—to nature. Then Rain Bear led him back to the fire that vigilant guards had kindled in front of his lodge.
“Right there, Tsauz—that’s the sitting mat.”
Rain Bear helped the blind boy to sit down, and Tsauz rested his dead puppy in his lap. The little dog’s belly had begun to bloat, and foul smells were leaking past the stitches Roe had used to sew up the dog’s sides. Soon, they’d have to take it away, before the evil Spirits began to leak out.
Rain Bear just prayed he wouldn’t be the one who had to do it.
He gave the boy a thorough inspection. Despite a solid night of sleep, Tsauz looked haggard. The scratches covering his face had swollen and turned red. Smudges darkened the flesh beneath his blind eyes.
“Roe started lunch a hand of time ago,” Rain Bear said, “but I still have to make tea.”
Tsauz brushed shoulder-length black hair behind his ears and clamped his lower lip between his teeth as though awaiting something terrible.
“It shouldn’t take long.”
Rain Bear went around the fire to where the tea basket hung on the tripod. Roe had already filled it with water and tea. He just needed to boil the water. As he reached for the whalebone tongs resting at the base of the tripod, he looked around the village. Crowds had begun to gather in the plaza and in every opening in the forest. There had to be more than two times ten tens of people camped around Sandy Point Village.
Rain Bear used the whalebone tongs to pluck three hot rocks from the fire. As he dropped each into the tea basket, steam gushed upward in a white cloud, and with it the sweet scents of birch sap and fireweed leaves.
A basket of pemmican—buffalo intestines stuffed with a mixture of blueberries, venison, and fat—rested in the ashes. They’d made it last summer when the blueberries ripened. He’d hoped they wouldn’t have to use it until spring, but spring was still another three moons away. They needed it now.
“How are you this afternoon, Tsauz? Did you sleep well?”
Tsauz glanced up from beneath long lashes but didn’t answer.
“I’m sure you must be hungry. Did you eat anything before we found you?”
Tsauz shook his head.
“Then you must be starving. Evening Star took half of our pemmican to exchange for Roe’s seaweed cakes. She’ll be back soon; then we’ll eat.”
He poked the sizzling lengths of pemmican with a stick while he absently listened to the conversations that filled the valley. Because people had been up half the night, they’d slept half the day. Many were just rising.
One of the newly arrived chiefs—Bluegrass—was walking straight for him. The old man was accompanied by a small band of his warriors. As they approached, they fixed their eyes on Tsauz.
“Great Chief,” Bluegrass greeted, his thin-lidded eyes still on the boy. “I wish to thank you for your work in making the Moon Ceremonial as pleasant as it was … considering the circumstances.”
“Thank you for coming, Chief. We face desperate times and appreciate your support.”
Bluegrass remained fixed on Tsauz. “So, are the rumors true? Is that Ecan’s son?”
“He is. His name is Tsauz.” Rain Bear noticed that Tsauz had recognized Bluegrass’s tone. “He’s under my protection for the moment.”
“What are you going to do with him?”
“Treat him like the guest he is.”
Bluegrass lowered his voice. “If you wish to see future cooperation from me or my people, you will kill the little weasel. The sooner, the better. Me, I want a piece of him. Maybe just his hand. Something I can send to his father. Compliments of the visit he paid to my village. A reminder of the way he treated my daughter when she was his
guest
.” His face worked, pain and grief mixing. “Ecan deserves it after what he did to our villages.”
“Ecan deserves it, yes. What has the boy done to you?”
“Don’t stand in my way, Great Chief. I’m not alone in my desires. And if you wish to build this alliance we’ve been hearing about, you’ll need friends.”
The old man stalked off wearing a thunderous expression. He’d be back. Meanwhile, he’d be going from camp to camp, speaking with the other chiefs, rallying his support.
The color had washed out of Tsauz’s face. His sightless brown eyes were holes of fear. He seemed to be having trouble swallowing, the way he would if his mouth were too dry.
Perhaps more ominous, Rain Bear could see unknown warriors standing just beyond the ring of guards he’d posted. They were three deep now. They’d made no hostile moves, but they stood with their spears or clubs propped on their shoulders, as though awaiting instructions from their chiefs.
Rain Bear kept his eyes on the warriors, and in a low voice asked, “How old are you?”
“T-ten summers.”
Rain Bear braced his arms across his knees and considered his words. “I wish to speak with you honestly. I know you are not yet a man, but I must treat you as one.”
Tsauz’s blind eyes widened.
“I need to tell you things that I would not tell a boy.”
“What?”
“The truth, Tsauz. Is that bad?”
“No. I—I want to hear the truth.”
“I’m glad.You see … we may be in trouble.”
“Trouble?” His blind eyes widened. “Then, you will give me to Bluegrass?”
“No.” He frowned. “I gave you my promise.”
“Father gave me his promise.”
“I cannot speak for your father. Only for myself. For now, this is what you must know: Let me start with the North Wind People first. I know you understood much of what we were speaking about last night.”
Tsauz blinked as though uncertain how to answer. “You mean about the Wolf Tails?”
“Yes.”
Almost against his will, Rain Bear’s gaze lifted, searching for a familiar face, for someone he had seen at Fire Village. He had to spot the assassin and kill him before he could get close. Many of the warriors he’d once known in Fire Village were on the run, preferring life in the bush to following the Council’s insane orders. How would he know if the familiar face was a friend, or a killer in disguise? The best way for Cimmis to succeed would be to send someone Rain Bear had known and trusted.
“They’ll be coming for you, Tsauz.”
Tsauz nervously petted Runner.
“They will try to rescue you, but I can’t let them do that.”
Tears filled Tsauz’s eyes. “You told me you would let me go home. When it was safe. You promised! Why can’t I go home with the Wolf Tails?”
“Keep your voice down.” Every warrior within a hundred paces had turned to stare at them. “There are people close by that I do not wish to overhear us.”
Tsauz whispered, “You said you’d take me home!”
“I
will
. When this is over. But for now, you are the only leverage I have against your father. Do you understand?”
“My father?”
“Tsauz, I must convince your father that if he does not help me, I will hurt you. I won’t. I promise you. But I must make him believe that I will.”
Tsauz’s chin trembled. “But you’ll have to hurt me if my father doesn’t. To prove to him that you’re serious.”
“No.” When Rain Bear shook his head, his long black braid fell over his shoulder. “That’s just a risk I’ll have to take.”
Tsauz didn’t seem to be breathing.
Rain Bear continued. “You will be guarded at all times—but only by warriors I trust with my life. Warriors who will—”
Tsauz interrupted. “What if the Wolf Tails can’t rescue me and they try to kill me? That’s what you meant last night, wasn’t it? When you said that Chief Cimmis and the Council would do anything to maintain authority? Can your warriors protect me from the Wolf Tails?”
Rain Bear slowly straightened. “I think so, but I’m not sure. The Wolf Tails are very skilled assassins. If the stories are true, they have managed to kill a number of people who were well guarded. I can only tell you that my warriors will give their lives to protect you.”
Tsauz anxiously toyed with Runner’s front paw. “It won’t make any difference. If they have orders to kill me, they’ll kill me.”
Strained laughter burst from the trees, and Tsauz spun to stare blindly.
Rain Bear glanced at the two warriors who, not so playfully, shoved each other. “What makes you say that?”
“Matron Gispaw believed that all the warriors guarding her were loyal, but two of them were Wolf Tails. They answered only to Cimmis.”
Carefully, so as not to sound too eager, Rain Bear asked, “Do you know which two?”
“No, and I—I’m not sure I would tell you if I did.”
Rain Bear nodded. Firs swayed and whispered in the wind. “That’s fair. But at some point, you may wish to tell me. You see, from what I have been able to gather, Cimmis selected the best warriors in Fire Village to serve as Wolf Tails. I have been gone for a time, but I think I still know who those warriors are. Do you see why you may wish to tell me?”
Tsauz’s eyes darted over nothing. “Because you may know their faces when they come here?”
“Yes.”
“But maybe they can rescue me and take me home.”
“I won’t let them, Tsauz.”
The boy obviously longed to shout or cry, but did neither. He sat straight, his young face rigid. “Will you tell me the truth about Cimmis? There’s something I must know.”
“If I can, I will.”
“Why would he order the Wolf Tails to kill me?” His voice broke. “I—I don’t understand that part.”
Rain Bear leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Cimmis will rightly fear that I may be able to use you to get to your father, Tsauz. And if I can force your father to help me, I may be able to kill Cimmis.”
Astonished, he whispered, “Is that what you wish to do? Kill Chief Cimmis?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
Rain Bear picked up the stick and turned over the lengths of pemmican. Fat sizzled inside the gut wrapping. “Cimmis has ordered
many of our people tortured and killed. At War Gods Village you learned firsthand what he does. You heard the screams; smelled the death of elders, women, and children like you on the wind. He has done this to more villages than you have fingers. It must stop, Tsauz. We just want to live in peace with the North Wind People.”
“But we need you to bring us food.”
“We can’t find enough food to feed our own villages. You heard the people last night along the trail.”
“You’re hungry?”
The boy seemed surprised by that. Had his father told him they were withholding tribute out of spite?
“Many of our children and elders died last cycle. Pitch and Dzoo tried to Heal them, but they couldn’t. No one really knows why the fevers came, but the fact that they were hungry couldn’t have helped.”
“Cimmis says you are just hoarding food so you can starve us. Because—because we are better than you! And you hate us!”
Rain Bear tossed his stick into the fire and watched the flames eat into the bark. “Some Raven People hate you. And some of the North Wind hate us. I don’t. My wife was one of the North Wind People, and I loved her very much. Roe is one of the North Wind People, as is Evening Star. So was Matron Weedis and so many others that the Council has ordered Cimmis and your father to kill.”
The boy just sat on the log, breathing hard.
Rides-the-Wind stepped out of his lodge. The bright afternoon light glinted in his thick gray hair and beard. He wore a knee-length tan shirt beneath his deerhide cape. “Pleasant afternoon to you, Chief.”
BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)
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