The Dawn Country (28 page)

“Did you actually see Zateri?” Odion asked. He smoothed his shoulder-length black hair behind his ears. Sunlight falling through the branches striped his round face. “You’re sure she was all right?”

Toksus pulled open the laces on a bag he carried and drew out a handful of huckleberries. As he chewed them, he said, “The last time I saw her, she was fine. Then the canoes shoved away from shore and went off down the river, leaving me alone.”

“You were smart, Toksus,” Odion praised. “You knew to walk straight north along the river. You weren’t really lost. In a few more days, you’d have been home.”

Toksus swallowed his huckleberries and plucked another handful from the bag. “I was so scared.”

“Well, you’re with us now. My parents will take you home.”

Toksus chewed the berries in silence, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it.

Baji was eyeing Toksus severely. She said, “How did you escape?”

“I didn’t escape. Gannajero let me go.”

“She’s never let a child go in her life. They’re worth too much. Why you?”

The next handful of huckleberries stopped halfway to Toksus’ mouth. He lowered it back to his lap. “After she stabbed the dead boy, she dragged him over and put him on top of me. She …” His eyes went vacant, as though his afterlife soul had briefly been scared from his body.

In a dire voice, Odion said, “Why did she do that?”

Toksus waved the fist of huckleberries, but it was a weak gesture, as though his strength had vanished in an instant. “She was witching us.”

“Both of you? Why?”

Toksus’ fingers seemed to go numb. The berries dropped from his hand, and he began rubbing his palms on his leggings, as though to rid them of an unseen taint. When his eyes started rolling around in terror, Odion slid closer to him.

“Toksus, don’t worry. You’re safe. We’re just trying to understand … .”

Their voices faded as Koracoo’s attention was captured by a set of tracks almost hidden beneath the dogwood boughs. She walked over and knelt near them, wary not to disturb the ground. As she used CorpseEye to lift a section of branches, her breath caught. The dense thicket had sheltered the earth from windblown needles and leaves. And the ground had been damp when he’d stepped here.

There were two tracks. Both clearly visible.

Her gaze lifted and swiftly examined the area. Was he still here? The tracks looked fresh. No rim of frost outlined the shapes, and there was no ice in the bottom of the tracks. They’d been made after the day had warmed with sunlight.

She edged closer and bent to examine them more carefully. The weather had turned cold and wet, but these were not moccasin prints. He was wearing sandals—the distinctive herringbone pattern woven only by the Hills People.

“She put his
soul
in me,” Toksus wailed.

Koracoo lifted her head. Odion had gone pale.

Baji said, “Why did she want you to have the dead boy’s soul?”

“I don’t know. She said, ‘Find him for me.’ But I didn’t know what she meant.”

Baji cupped a hand to Odion’s ear and whispered something. Odion nodded; then he swiveled around to face Toksus again. The boy looked at Odion as though afraid he was about to be left alone. He suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of Odion’s sleeve.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Toksus explained. “I didn’t do anything bad.”

“She’s a witch, Toksus,” Odion said. “You’re not to blame for what she does. Was she trying—?”

“She cut out his eyes, too.”

Odion and Baji both looked at Koracoo, as though silently begging for an explanation.

She rose and retraced her tracks to where they sat in a circle. Toksus had started to cry. His chest heaved, and soft whimpers vibrated in his throat. The sight of him wrenched Koracoo’s heart.

Baji said, “War Chief, have you ever heard of the ritual he described?”

“It’s witch Power, Baji, evil. I know little about such things.”

Baji’s delicate brows lowered. She examined Koracoo as though she suspected she was lying, that she really did know but was withholding the information. Baji resented being treated like a child.

Koracoo relented and said, “She was probably trying to force Toksus to catch the dying boy’s last breath. But Wakdanek is more familiar with such things. When he arrives, we’ll—”

A shudder went through CorpseEye, and he warmed in her hands. As the heat increased, she shifted the club to her other hand. He was old and wise in the ways of the unseen forces that moved through the forest.
He sees something I don’t.

Her gaze swept upward from the bases of the trees to the highest limbs, then down to the brush, searching for any color or shape anomaly that would signal a hidden enemy warrior.

Very softly, so as not to startle her, Odion said, “Mother, what’s wrong?” He glanced at CorpseEye.

She touched her lips with her fingers, telling the children to be quiet. They reacted like grouse chicks at the sound of a wolf’s stealthy paws, their muscles bunched, ready to scatter to the heavens.

When the breeze picked up, the larches swayed and creaked, and a shower of yellow needles cascaded from the sky. Koracoo kept her eyes on the most likely places a war party might burst from cover.

After twenty or thirty heartbeats, Odion lifted his chin and his nostrils flared.

Then Koracoo caught the scent. It smelled faintly like the foul miasma that hovers around week-old carcasses in the summertime. She turned into the wind to see if she could pinpoint where it was coming from … and heard steps.

With ghostly silence, she rose and spread her feet, then grasped CorpseEye in both hands.

“Koracoo?”
Sindak called. “Where are you?”

She relaxed. “Over here, Sindak. In the larch grove.”

A short while later, Sindak and Wakdanek emerged from the trees, followed by Tutelo and Hehaka. Towa brought up the rear.

Wakdanek called, “Toksus?”

The little boy leaped to his feet. “Cousin Wakdanek!”

Wakdanek knelt, and Toksus ran into his arms, weeping. “I thought you were dead. I thought everybody was dead!”

“No, Toksus.” Wakdanek stroked his back gently. “Many of us survived. Your mother is alive. I saw her just a few hands of time ago. She’ll be so happy to see you.”

Toksus sobbed against Wakdanek’s broad shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever see my family again.”

“Well, you will. Now, tell me how you got here, little cousin? You’re a long way from home.”

Toksus pulled away and wiped his nose on his sleeve. As the wind gusted, tree shadows painted his face. “Just after the battle, that ugly Flint Trader bought us, then sold us—”

“Bought who? How many Bog Willow children were with you?” The desperation in his voice was painful. “Was Conkesema—?”

“There were four of us. Me, Auma, Conkesema, and the dead boy.”

At the sound of his daughter’s name, tears entered the big raw-boned Healer’s eyes. He made an effort to swallow them and said, “Is everyone else—?”

“They’re still Gannajero’s slaves.” As though he couldn’t keep his eyes away, Toksus turned to the half-buried body beneath the dogwoods.

“Who is he, Toksus?”

The boy whimpered, “Sassacus.”

Wakdanek rose and went to crouch beside the body. He examined it for a long time before he grabbed one of the feet and pulled the boy out into the amber gleam. As he brushed dirt from the child’s face, his heavy brows knitted into a single line. The boy’s empty eye sockets were clotted with old blood.

Koracoo said, “Do you know him?”

Wakdanek jerked a nod. “What happened—?”

Toksus rushed to answer. “Gannajero stabbed him; then she dragged him over and put him on my chest, and she—”

“Did she put your mouths together, Cousin?”

Toksus jerked a nod and twined his fist in the shirt over his chest. “Ever since, I’ve felt something inside me, coiling around.”

Wakdanek’s expression slackened. He rose to his feet and went back to embrace Toksus. “It’s all right. I brought ghost medicine with me. We’ll banish his soul from your body, and you’ll start getting stronger right away.”

“Thank you. I’m so scared.” Toksus propped his chin on Wakdanek’s shoulder, and a peaceful expression came over his young face.

Koracoo said, “After she forced Toksus to catch his last breath, she cut out the dead boy’s eyes. Do you know why?”

“It’s witchery,” Wakdanek replied. “Who can say why?”

He hugged Toksus again and released him; then he tilted his head to Koracoo, gesturing that they step away.

She followed him into a small clearing where the sound of the river was louder and she could smell the mossy fragrance of the water. “Now tell me the rest.”

Wakdanek crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “I’ve heard of the ritual. A witch transfers someone’s soul to another body, but keeps his eyes. No matter where the afterlife soul travels in its new body, the eyes can still see whatever the soul sees. In this case, the soul she placed in Toksus is seeing us.”

A creeping sensation worked its way up her spine to the back of her neck. “You mean she could be using the dead boy’s eyes to watch us right now?”

“It’s possible. But it takes a very powerful witch to do such a thing, and I doubt …”

A scream rent the afternoon. They both lurched through the brush in time to see Toksus topple to the ground with his jaws snapping together like a rabid dog’s. He began jerking violently, locked in a seizure.

Sindak and Towa were on him instantly, holding his arms down so he couldn’t hurt himself. Sindak cried, “Wakdanek!”

As the Healer ran, the children scrambled back, and Hehaka started yelling, “I didn’t do anything! I swear it! He just fell down. I didn’t even touch him!”

“What happened?” Wakdanek grabbed the boy’s contorted face and stared into his rolling eyes. “Did he say anything?”

“No!” Odion shook his head. “He just asked Hehaka his name, and when Hehaka told him, Toksus got a strange look on his face … .”

The seizure stopped. As Toksus’ body began to go limp, his jaw gaped and his head lolled to the side.

“Toksus?” Wakdanek fell to the ground and put his ear over the boy’s chest. “No. No!”

Sindak and Towa rose and backed away as Wakdanek grabbed Toksus beneath the arms, lifted him, and shook him hard, crying, “Toksus, breathe!”

Sindak followed Towa over to where Koracoo stood. Though Towa had left his waist-length hair loose, Sindak had tied his back with a leather cord. The style made his narrow face look even more aquiline.

Sindak murmured, “That looked very much like the effects of poison.”

Only Koracoo’s eyes moved as she met his hard gaze. “You think it’s retribution for the stew pot?”

“It may be. Where did he get that bag of huckleberries?”

“He had them when we found him.”

Sindak seemed to be listening to the melody of birdsong that filled the trees. Finally, he said, “What good would it do to poison the boy unless we knew she’d done it?”

Towa frowned. “Are you saying that she let the boy go and told him to walk down the riverbank, knowing that we’d find him?”

“Not necessarily us, but whoever is after her. She must know she’s being followed. This way, her pursuers would find him … and after hearing Toksus’ story, they would be a lot more hesitant to continue pursuing—”

“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
?”