People of the Wolf (37 page)

Crow Caller shouted, "Are you accusing me of lying?"

Raven Hunter toyed with a dart foreshaft, avoiding the shaman's eyes. "I wouldn't want you and me to be enemies, old teacher. It wouldn't be good for the People."

Crow Caller digested that, hard lines forming around his mouth. Finally he said, "What are you after?"

"You've never really backed my raids against the Others."

"I've never spoken out against them, either."

"True, and I respect a man who waits to see where his best interests lie." He met the old man's gaze. "But the time

has come for you to decide." He leaned close, holding Crow Caller's good eye. The old man glared back defiantly. But after a few moments his stare wavered and fell.

"What do you want?"

"Are you with me ... or against me?"

"Why do you need my backing?"

"Enthusiasm for war during the Long Dark will be ... how do I say it? Lacking? No one wants to fight when the spirits might suck a man's soul away."

Crow Caller flashed his good eye to Raven Hunter's. "And a shaman's approval might make the difference?"

"Approval and promises of protection."

"And if I don't support this?"

Raven Hunter spewed a disappointed exhale. "A complete recounting of the times your Dreams were wrong could become the center of the People's gossip. Some might begin to openly mock you. Derision is the Dreamer's worst—"

"You're
threatening
me?" Crow Caller said, mouth open.

"No. I'm trying to give you enough information so you can decide quickly that your best interests are in supporting me."

Crow Caller's face puckered in rage. "My Powers reach far and wide. I have ways, uses for bits of hair, nail clippings, scraps of clothing. I know how to draw a man's soul out of his body and send it scurrying into the Long Dark. I can—"

"Shall we publicly test that?"

"What do you mean?"

Raven Hunter reached for his personal spirit bundle. "I'll give you this tomorrow where everyone can see. Then we'll all wait—the entire camp—to see what's stronger: your curses on me or my soul." His eyes glistened darkly. "Do you want to see that happen?"

Crow Caller squirmed, eyes darting nervously. "It would serve no purpose."

"Come, let's be honest, old teacher. Friend. We, who have so much to offer each other, shouldn't be adversaries."

Crow Caller sucked his lower lip, a pained expression heavy on his features. "You want to split the People? Make more disharmony when the Others are raiding and killing us?"

"No." Raven Hunter pursed his lips distastefully. "I want

unity. But that won't happen until you and I are on the same side."

A long silence passed as Crow Caller's face lined with uneasy thought. Raven Hunter waited patiently; the old man's shoulders slowly slumped. Before him, the Dreamer of the People appeared to wilt from the inside.

The words drawn out, anguished, Crow Caller finally whispered, "I ... I'll help you."

"I knew you would. Have more stew, my friend. You and I, we shall remold the People."

Crow Caller shook his head, reaching the horn cup into the broth. "So young, yet so powerful. Where does this come from when I, with all my wisdom, must work so hard for Dreams I cannot trust?"

Raven Hunter blinked thoughtfully, listening to the difficult admission. "Your Power will return, old friend, now that you've decided to fight to save the People. I'm sure Father Sun doubted your devotion before and that's why it fled. It'll be back."

Crow Caller cast a skeptical glance heavenward. "Maybe."

"I'm sure of it."

"And you think this war against the Others will succeed? You think you can drive them back, once and for all?"

Raven Hunter twirled his dart point. "Truthfully, I don't know, but we'll make them think twice. Convince them there are easier fates than facing the People. Suppose Blueberry is right? If there are more people pushing the Others—and we make them bleed enough—maybe they'll go back and retake the lands they've been pushed out of."

"Blueberry also said there were many many Others. More than we could kill . . . more than we could scare."

"Then we'll die anyway. At least waging war will buy us time."

"Time for what?"

"Who knows, maybe for my silly brother to find the hole in the Big Ice. Maybe for the Star People to curse—"

"There's no hole!" Crow Caller growled.

Raven Hunter looked up to meet his hot black eye. ' 'Then we'd better be able to push the Others back."

"How can I help?" The question came low and resentful.

"The People have grown slothful. We have to harden them,

make them tough and resilient so they have the heart to fight.
With your Dreams of our success to buoy spirits,
we'll raid and win, living off the bounty of the Others' hunt, begetting more young men from their women."

"You upset the ways of the People." Crow Caller shook his head. "Killing and—"

"We don't have a choice." Raven Hunter exhaled on his dart point, breathing spirit into the stone, wood, and binding. "Until your Power returns and you can Dream another way out for us."

"I don't think—"

Raven Hunter slammed a fist into the hides he sat on, a crazed look welling in his eyes. He leaned close to Crow Caller, twisting his head curiously. "What if I
do
turn the People's way upside down? It'll be much worse if we give up and let the Others kill us. How will one of our women feel when some sweaty Other is parting her legs and making her
his
second wife?"

"I still don't like it."

"You know of another way? Tell me, I'll listen."

Crow Caller frowned, jaw propped on a fist. "We've no place to go but into the Big Ice. And Runs In Light? Well, I'll die of an Other's dart before I lend anything to him." He shook his head. "I'll tell the young men to go with you. I'll make Power for them. Make it so they know they'll go to the Blessed Star People if they die."

Raven Hunter nodded, a knowing glint in his eye. "I thought you would. We'll do well together, you and I. Indeed, we'll do well. And your Power will return, old friend. Just wait."

Crow Caller resettled himself, fingering his beak nose. "You've got an interest in Dancing Fox."

Raven Hunter shrugged and shifted his gaze to stare at his spirit bundle, tracing the magical lines drawn on the hide with his eyes while he contemplated his answer. The old man's tone hadn't been hostile, only curious and maybe a little jealous. Their current alliance was fragile. Could he risk the truth? Softly, he said, "Does that bother you? You threw her out."

"You argued for her life."

Raven Hunter looked up sharply. "One day she'll be my

wife. I've seen it. I've also seen a child—a powerful child-springing from her womb. I'm sure . . -." His voice faded, eyes going blank for a few moments. "I'm sure it's mine."

"You've Dreamed?"

Raven Hunter ignored the question. "Besides, she amuses me. And despite her shame, there is no other woman who draws me so."

"Dreams? But you're nothing but a boy, just like that brother of yours!"

Raven Hunter clenched the dart shaft, muscles bunching on his forearm. "Beware, Crow Caller. There are worse things than the spirits of the Long Dark. The time when you could call me boy are long gone."

"I meant no harm," Crow Caller clarified quickly, a weak smile on his lips. "Friends shouldn't snap at each other. Not when so much is at stake for the People, eh?"

"And Dancing Fox?"

He opened his arms, shrugging. "What do I care? She
would have left me to go with Runs In Light eventually, any
way. " - -

Raven Hunter nodded, looking half-lidded at Crow Caller. "Then we understand each other."

Sitting cross-legged in her shelter, a small crackling fire before her, Heron wearily rubbed the back of her neck. Wavering shadows crept over her collection of skulls, accenting the hollow eye sockets and glistening fangs of wolves and bears. The human skull studied her soberly, a macabre understanding in its empty orbits. ,

Yes, you know. The dead see so clearly. Only we who live constantly blind ourselves with trivialities. Tell me, noble dead, will I . . . will I be strong enough ? Can I make the

transition to the Dancer? Or will I fail again? Tell me, kind dead, what vision fills your
—

Broken Branch ducked under the hangings, head cocked as she looked at Heron. "He's gone. I walked him down the trail to that big boulder."

She nodded, rumbling nervously with the hem of her caribou skirt as she looked away from the skull. Broken Branch followed the path of her gaze, jaw working uneasily as her eyes slitted. The old woman stiffened, hands going to her hips.

'.'I couldn't have him here. Not now. This is too important. I wouldn't want him to see."

Broken Branch shifted uncomfortably on her swollen feet. "You scare me when you talk like that."

"I scare myself."

A long silence passed while Heron studied her old nemesis, smiling at the dart-sharp nose and sagging flesh. "You know, I've almost forgiven you."

"Well, don't waste your time. I've never needed it."

Heron cackled, eyes gleaming. "You didn't, maybe, but I did. I've had a wound inside me for a lot of years. I feel better now that I sort of like you."

Broken Branch waved it away, waddling over to kneel by the fire, hands extended. "Save your breath. I loved Bear Hunter. If we could turn back time . . . Dream ourselves back there again, I'd do it all over. Had a lot of good years with him until he was killed."

"Why did you come back? You could be relaxing in some young hunter's lodge now. It wouldn't be a bad life. They'd feed you for the stories and for the raising of their young. Elders are respected—well cared for among the People." Heron rubbed her forearms, trying to loosen ,the muscles cramping with the increasing tension in her breast. "You've been quiet, gathering wood, cooking, preparing food for storage. Such things aren't like you, Broken Branch."

"Hah-heeee! What do
you
know of me? Not like me, you say? Hah!" She waggled a bent finger. "I saw his eyes, Heron. You understand? The Dream ... the Wolf Dream was there, powerful. It touched my soul. Wound me up and sent me falling into a Dream of my own." She shook her

head. "It's for the People that I came back,
for him.
So you could teach him."

"Why me? You don't even like—"

"Hush, you old hag. No matter what's behind us, you're still the best. The only Dreamer the People have left who can teach."

Heron massaged her forehead. The time was nearing and fear tingled in her belly. "He'll be powerful. Better than me one day ... if he lives."

Broken Branch's joints cracked as she pulled another section of willow from the pile she'd laboriously hauled in over the long weeks of summer. "If? That got anything to do with that Dream you had last night?"

Heron stared sightlessly at the fire. "Sights. Sounds. Something bad's happening with the People . . . beyond the People. I ... don't know. But many are coming. Stragglers walking up over the hills by the Big River. In front comes One Who Cries, Singing Wolf, and women I don't know. Behind them, a dozen bands are following. All fleeing to us."

"Trouble?"

"Deep fear." Heron shook her head. "It hangs over them as they walk. In the Dream I saw something growing in the dark. Like Grandfather Brown Bear, it filled the clouds, hidden there in the blackness, reaching down, huge paws hovering in the air, waiting."

"The same thing Wolf Dreamer saw?"

"I think so,"

"Can you drive it off?"

Heron lifted her shoulder. "There's more. Raven Hunter walks north, skirting around a huge pool of blood; many young men follow on his heels. As the Long Dark grows, so does his power over them. Even some of the young women go with him, their darts on their backs, singing chants while Crow Caller blesses them, filling them with his claims of Power and protection from the spirits of the Long Dark. And beyond, on the other side of the blood pool, lie the camps of the Others, lit by shafts of glowing light, bars of color like that shed by the Monster Children fighting in the sky.''