Eighty-three

The singing of crickets, the distant call of the whippoorwill, an owl hooting in the forest to her south. The sounds filled the night, helped to cover Night Shadow Star’s steps as she crept around the corner of a society house until she could see Walking Smoke’s front door, the fire’s glow still visible inside.

Her preparations had taken a couple of hands of time. She had thought it all through.

Walking Smoke was guarded by Sky Power. If she tried to approach with her copper-bitted club, dripping of Underworld Power as it was, her brother would know. Understand immediately the source and nature of the threat.

He wanted her to come to him?

That meant he had taken precautions. Walking Smoke would never allow her to approach unless he held all the advantages. Who knew what sort of traps he might have constructed—falling nets, deadfalls, pits, snares, something noxious like tossing poison ivy into the fire?

A knot had pulled tight in Night Shadow Star’s throat. Now that she teetered on the precipice, she was frightened down to her marrow.

She resettled her war club, slanting it sideways across her belly where it wouldn’t impede movement.

From her shoulder, she took the hunting bow she’d found. Were it not for her current strength, she would have never managed the pull. Each of the arrows in the quiver had been serviceable, most with stone hunting points. She had soaked strips of cloth in pine pitch, then wound them around foreshafts and tied them. The fire she’d had to start; then she’d allowed it to burn down to the coals. Those she put in a small jar of sand that she hung around her neck with a thong.

Stepping back out of sight, she pulled an arrow. Lifted the pot of coals and inserted the pitch-soaked cloth. Blowing on it, she coaxed a flame. Pulled three more arrows, used the lit arrow to set fire to the rest.

Committed, she ducked around the back of the society house. Fear lent her strength and speed. The first arrow she drove into the thatch, shooting it up at the same angle as the roof so that it slipped into the dry grass with barely a sound. At the far corner, she did the same. Circled to the front of the house. Shot into the roof. Crossed in front of the door at a run and shot the last arrow into the fourth corner of the roof.

Panting, she ducked back behind the society house wall, craned her neck out only far enough that she could see the first flickering flames in the thatch.

Pus and blood, she wished she had something to drink. Night Shadow Star swallowed hard, pulled another arrow, stepped out, and nocked it. Maybe he wouldn’t hear the growing flames, maybe he’d fallen asleep.

Or, as she expected, he’d realize his situation, charge out into the light of the fire, where she’d be able to step close and drive her next arrow right through his heart.

It took longer than she would have thought. The roof had turned into a roaring tower of flame. The entire time she quivered, half in fear, half in anxiety. Surely the man had to realize. Or, could it be? Was she really lucky enough that he was going to awaken to his situation too late?

Then she heard the curse, barely loud enough to carry over the flames.

He charged out from the burning building, head down, arms raised and crossed above as if for protection against the searing heat.

Panting, muscles pumping, she sprinted out, drawing as she did.

No more than five paces from him, she stopped, held her draw, and fixed on his chest.

Only to have him turn.

“You!” she cried.

He gaped at her, firelight glaring yellow on the side of his face. In horror he lifted his hands, the mangled thumb and finger on his right forever etched in her memory. “Lady, don’t! By the Spirits, I was just hired. He’s…”

Her shaft took him through the chest, stopped just short of the fletching. The Casqui’s eyes bugged, his mouth dropping into a silent O. He staggered, fingers pulling weakly at the fletching. Stumbled sideways.

She watched as he dropped to his knees. A whimpering sound could barely be heard over the roar of the flames.

“You,” she repeated, struggling to understand. She blinked, looking back at the roaring inferno. She could see inside the door, had a view of the room. Pots, jars, sleeping benches, weird frameworks made of human bones. Blood had been smeared in designs over the walls. She’d seen the like before. In Cahokia. During Walking Smoke’s murderous rampage.

She had no warning. Arms wrapped around her from behind. Took her by complete surprise. Lifted her.

She struck out, lost the bow. Screamed her fear.

“Good. So very good. See, I told you I’d take you from behind. But we’ll have plenty of time for that.”

Walking Smoke wasn’t ready for her strength, with all the whipcord muscle she’d built on the river. She managed to jerk her arm free. Ripped the ax from her belt.

She got half turned, could only make an awkward strike. Swinging low and back between his legs. Felt it connect with a solid thump.

Walking Smoke uttered a high-pitched scream. But his hold on her didn’t break.

She hammered an elbow into his ribs. Heard his explosion of breath. Jerked her head back violently, slammed it into his face. Managed to twist free. All it would take was one good strike with her …

She barely had a glimpse, a body coming in from the side. Something hit her head. Knocked it sideways. Blasted yellow dots of light through her vision.

She felt herself falling, knew she’d hit the ground.

Her senses were swimming. Her souls seemed disconnected from her body. She couldn’t control her arms or legs.

“Shit in a pot!” Walking Smoke screamed. “She hit me right in the stones!”

In her swimming vision, she saw him pick up her ax, fling it toward the burning building where it missed the door, hit the wall, and bounced back into the trampled grass.

“Good thing it wasn’t the sharp edge that hit you, isn’t it?” the voice said. “Come on. We’ve got her. She would have killed you but for me. I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. Now, let’s get out of here so you can fulfill yours.”

“Tomorrow. In the morning.”

“Before first light.”

Night Shadow Star blinked, trying to steady her blurry vision. Her cousin, Fire Light, was illuminated by the burning Clan House. Several of his warriors were standing in the background, alternately glancing at her, then at Walking Smoke as, weeping, he cupped his genitals, and then at the burning building.

She lurched forward, threw up, then again, and again.