The Dawn Country (25 page)

Cord walked away.

The amber gleam of late afternoon coated the slender trunks of chokecherries that grew along the shore and glimmered from the river with blinding intensity.

He took the opportunity to walk upstream, where he could keep watch for canoes coming around the bend. They were well into territory belonging to the People Who Separated. The Quill River was broad and lazy, like an old woman who loved nothing better than to doze in the tree shadows. But occasional shallows ran swift and dangerous. By the time any pursuers saw their party, the enemy would have a hard time getting to shore. Still, he kept watch.

As he waded out to fill his water bag, he looked back at the group near the canoes. Wakdanek had joined the circle. One by one, the children filtered from the undergrowth and stood talking.

Cord lifted his water bag and took a long drink of the cool earthy water. He’d swallowed a stale cornmeal biscuit a short time ago. Hunger was at bay for the moment, but he had a powerful thirst. He emptied half the bag, and filled it again. As he straightened, he heard Koracoo’s distinctively soft steps. It was a faint almost-not-there sound, little more than grains of sand shifting.

“May I speak with you?” she said.

“Of course.” He tied his water bag to his belt and turned.

Koracoo took a deep breath and let it out slowly while she gazed across the wide glistening river, as though considering her words, but she was also avoiding his eyes—and he knew why. He felt the attraction, too. But it was not the time for either of them. Their peoples were at war.

“I have a problem,” she said.

“I know.”

She turned to face him, and their gazes locked. They’d been paddling hard, and sweat had matted her short black hair to her cheeks, framing her large eyes and small nose. She had CorpseEye propped on her shoulder. Even from two paces away, he could sense a presence in the war club, old and powerful. The carvings along the shaft added to the effect. The antlered wolves seemed to be chasing the winged tortoises, who were being chased by prancing buffalo. The red quartzite cobble tied to the top of the club reflected the light.

Her eyes tightened. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”

“Why don’t you let me explain what I see, rather than having you tell me?”

“Go on.”

Cord exhaled hard before he said, “It’s clear that recently something has changed between the two of you. You want distance, but he still loves you. What appears to be anger on his part is actually, I believe, grief. He’s finally realized that he’s lost you, and it’s tearing him apart. So … returning anger for anger will not solve the problem. But you must solve it. Quickly.”

Their gazes held. Her eyes were as black and translucent as obsidian. It was strange for him to stand eye-to-eye with a woman. Very few were as tall as he was. And she had meltingly dark eyes.

“What is your recommendation?” she asked.

He frowned out at the water. “He’s been your deputy for a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Pick a new deputy. You need someone you can trust to give good orders in the worst of moments. Sindak, perhaps?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Not you?”

“No. I’m an outsider. They won’t listen to me.”

She studied him for a long time, as though trying to read his souls.

A short distance from the shore, a flock of ducks floated, riding the swells as they chattered to each other. He watched them while he waited for her to think it over.

At last, she replied, “Gonda has been my right hand for thirteen summers. He knows my thoughts almost before I do.”

“That’s why this is so hard for him. He thinks you need him.” Cord stared at her. Neither of them blinked. “It will be a kindness, Koracoo. He doesn’t know how to step aside. Though I suspect he realizes he needs to.”

The ducks suddenly took wing, squawking as they flapped away into the afternoon sky. Koracoo frowned at them for a time before she said, “He may, but this decision will still enrage him.”

“Maybe. But eventually he’ll understand why you did it.”

Koracoo pulled CorpseEye off her shoulder and lovingly smoothed her fingers over the club as she thought. “I want you to serve as my deputy.”

Cord shifted awkwardly. “I don’t think that’s a wise choice. Your men do not know me.”

“Which means you will have to make an effort to get to know them.”

“I can do that, but think hard before you—”

She walked away. As she neared the group, she called, “We’re switching positions. Wakdanek, I want you with Towa in the rear of Gonda’s canoe. Children, split up however you please, two in each canoe.”

As the three men moved for their boat, Koracoo said, “Gonda, I need to speak with you.”

She marched past him and led the way into a grove of larches. He followed her. Cord could just see them through the sunlit weave of yellow needles. Gonda had his head down, as though listening intently.

In the meantime, Odion and Baji climbed into Koracoo’s canoe. The other two children got into Gonda’s. Wakdanek and Towa stood at the bow, waiting.

Sindak was squinting at Koracoo and Gonda. From this angle, his hooked nose looked especially long.

Cord walked up beside him. “Sindak, go ahead and get in. As soon as Koracoo arrives, I’ll shove us off. I’m already soaked to the knees.”

“So am I.” Sindak tucked his war club into his belt and folded his arms beneath his cape. Without looking at Cord, he said, “That sounded like an order. Did you and Koracoo have an interesting conversation?”

“We—”

A sharp
“What?”
erupted from the forest.

“You know it’s necessary,” Koracoo said. “You and I have been snarling at each other like rabid dogs.”

“Why now?”

She said something no one could hear.

Branches cracked as Gonda thrashed his way through brush and shouted at Wakdanek and Towa, “Get in.”

They leaped to obey, taking up positions in the rear. The boat rocked violently as Gonda shoved it off the sand and jumped into the bow. In less than five heartbeats, the man had maneuvered out into the current and was heading downriver.

Gonda hadn’t even looked at Cord. But he would. By the end of the day, he’d be strutting around Cord like a stiff-legged dog. It was the way of men.

Koracoo walked out of the trees carrying CorpseEye in both hands, as though ready to bash anything that annoyed her.

Sindak’s brows lifted. As Koracoo came across the sand, he said, “Gonda seemed a little upset.”

She replied, “War Chief Cord is my new deputy. We’re leaving.” She stalked past him, climbed to the rear, and grabbed an oar.

Odion and Baji watched her with wide eyes. They knew better than to say anything. Odion clutched his puppy tighter, and Gitchi wriggled unhappily.

Sindak turned to Cord. “Do you want to ride in the rear with her … or am I the condemned man?”

Cord smiled. “You’re the condemned man.”

Sindak heaved a sigh and got in.

Just as Cord started to shove the bow away from the shore, he heard something.

A soft suffocating cry.

Koracoo heard it, too. She straightened and shipped her paddle. “What was that?”

Odion got on his knees, listened for a few instants, and pointed to the larches to the south. “There, Mother.” He swung around to make sure she’d heard him.

Koracoo nodded. “Cord, go east and come up behind the larches. I’ll approach from the shore. Sindak, stay and guard the children.”

“But Mother,” Odion said. “It sounds like a child. Can I—?”

“No.”

The boy sank back to the packs with a disappointed expression.

Cord unslung his bow, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and slipped silently to the edge of the trees before he nocked it. The larches were in the process of shedding their needles, but enough remained to create a fuzzy yellow halo that extended back indefinitely into the forest. As he entered the grove, the cry came again.

Gently, so that he made no sound, Cord eased aside the branch blocking his path and stepped by. He carefully returned the branch to its former position. It made only the slightest shishing as a handful of needles pattered the duff.

He studied the dense undergrowth of dogwoods to his left. The weeping penetrated the thicket, but just barely, as though the person had his face buried in a heavy blanket to muffle his cries.

Birds hopped through the branches above him, chirping, which helped to cover the crackling of the old larch needles as Cord edged toward the thicket.

When he reached the outermost edge of the dogwoods, he saw movement and stood perfectly still, studying the shape until he made out what seemed to be four arms. Then eyes opened and stared at him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in the Dawnland tongue. By now the child would have assessed his hairstyle and fitted wolfhide coat as those of a Flint warrior. He might even suspect that Cord had been involved in the attack on Bog Willow Village. Assuming the boy knew about it. They were far south of traditional Dawnland country. The news may not have reached here yet.

The boy lifted his head. He wore a ratty cape made from woven strips of weasel hide, and had a narrow face with a thin bladelike nose. Tears glued stringy black hair to his cheeks. Amid the dogwood limbs, he appeared to be perhaps eight or nine summers old. The boy’s breathing sounded labored.

Cord struggled to decipher what he was seeing. When the boy shifted to sit up, his two arms became visible, but something wasn’t right about the shapes. The body parts didn’t seem to connect.

Cord released the tension on his bowstring and called, “Are you hungry? I have food I’ll share with you.”

Dark eyes blinked.

Nearby, Koracoo moved stealthily across the larch duff. If he hadn’t known she was coming, he might have assumed the sound was nothing more than birds scratching through the fallen needles. She stopped. Perhaps because she’d seen the boy.

Cord slung his bow and crouched down where he could see beneath the dogwood branches. The boy was scared witless, trembling. Tears ran down his cheeks.

Cord extended a hand. “You’re safe with us. Why don’t you come out where we can talk?”

A shaking little-boy voice said, “I—I’m lost.”

“It’s all right. We’ll help you. What’s your name?”

The boy licked his lips nervously. “Toksus.”

Koracoo slipped through the undergrowth and came to kneel beside Cord. “Toksus,” she called, “I give you my oath that you are safe. I am War Chief Koracoo of Yellowtail Village. I—”

“Yellowtail?” Toksus scrambled from beneath the dogwoods. Old leaves and needles covered his hair. He stood with his fists clenched. “Wrass’ village?”

In an unnaturally calm voice, Koracoo said, “Do you know Wrass?”

“He’s my friend.” Toksus suspiciously glanced back and forth between them. “We—we were in the same canoe.”

Cord could see the vein in Koracoo’s throat pounding, but she looked utterly calm when she asked, “Did you escape from Gannajero, Toksus?”

The boy’s chest spasmed with tears, and his face twisted. “She let me go.”

Despite the fact that Koracoo must have had a thousand questions, she said only, “Then we need to get you home. What’s your village?”

“It was a-attacked. I don’t know if anyone’s alive.”

“Bog Willow Village?”

The boy nodded.

Koracoo said, “We were just there. Many survived. In fact, we’re traveling with someone you may know. He was your village Healer, Wakdanek.”

Toksus took a shocked step toward them. “He’s my cousin. Where is he? I want to see him.”

“He just shoved off in his canoe, but I’ll send people to bring him back.”

Koracoo slowly moved toward him. Toksus watched her like a small frightened animal. When she was close enough, Koracoo reached out and stroked his hair. “You’re going to be all right, Toksus. We’ll get you home.”

While Koracoo spoke with the boy, Cord tried to figure out the shapes beneath the dogwoods. Finally, he asked, “Toksus, who’s the other boy?”

Toksus turned around to stare at the body half covered with leaves. “Sassacus. He—he was Partridge Clan.”

Koracoo’s face slackened as she connected the apparently disparate shapes. “Dear gods, it’s a body.”

Toksus sobbed again and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I don’t know how he got here. I ran all night. I was so tired, I had to nap. When I woke up a little while ago, he was lying beside me. It scared me.”

“Is that why you covered him with leaves?”

He croaked, “I was afraid he’d followed me.”

Cord was confused by the statement, but Koracoo stroked the boy’s hair again and softly asked, “Did you see him witched?”

Toksus’ mouth opened and his chest heaved, but no sound came out.

Koracoo pulled him into her arms. The boy wept, “She killed him! Stabbed him in the back. Then she—she …”

When he couldn’t go on, Koracoo hugged him tighter and turned to Cord. “Ask Odion and Baji to come over here, then take the canoe. Catch Gonda. With the current, it’ll probably be easier for Sindak to lead Wakdanek back along the shore. I want you and Gonda to remain and guard the canoes.”

“Understood.”

Cord sprinted away, ducked the low branches of the larches, and thrashed through the brush. When he appeared on the shore, he noticed that Sindak had gotten out of the canoe and nocked his bow. He stood guard a few paces from the children.

“Good man, Sindak.”

Sindak’s brows plunged down over his hooked nose. “We heard a boy’s voice. Who is he?”

“He’s a Dawnland child. One of the survivors of the Bog Willow battle. I’ll tell you more later. Right now, we have catch Gonda.”

As Cord grabbed an oar, he said, “Odion, Baji, the war chief wants you to join her.”

Odion and Baji scrambled out of the canoe and ran away with Odion calling, “
Mother?
Where are you?”

Cord shoved the bow away from the sand, and said, “Come on, Sindak. We have our work cut out catching Gonda.”