People of the Wolf (62 page)

One Who Cries squinted, seeing the old man talking in low tones to Buffalo Back. "Dying? He looks all right to me."

"A black spot is on his soul."

"A black spot?" One Who Cries shifted uneasily.

Wolf Dreamer smiled benignly. "The soul is a reflection of the body it inhabits. Four Teeth will feel fine. Then the life will ebb as his body fails. He won't feel much pain."

One Who Cries scratched under his chin. Maybe coming to talk to Wolf Dreamer hadn't been such a good idea. Half-hesitant, he asked, "Uh, my soul look all right?"

Wolf Dreamer chuckled softly. ' 'Yes, One Who Cries, your soul looks fine. See that you keep it that way."

"Uh . . . yes, I—I will." He shifted his feet, feeling the gravel crunch through the holes in the soles of his long boots. "Um, do you know how things are on the other side of the ice? I mean, well, Green Water and the baby. I haven't seen them in half a year. I've been worried."

"You didn't say anything. I could have told you."

"You could? I mean, well, everyone else had their own problems." He asked with trepidation, "How are they? Healthy?"

Wolf Dreamer's smile beamed like rays of light. "Very. Green Water misses you and the baby is growing, becoming stronger every day."

One Who Cries stifled the ecstatic abandon that filled his heart before he chewed his lip and looked over. "Uh, why haven't the ghosts been groaning at us?"

Wolf Dreamer cocked his head as if listening and then spread his hands. "I Danced with the ice, told it to be silent. The ghosts did as I Danced them."

"Uh . . . well ..." One Who Cries nodded uneasily.

Wolf Dreamer reached down by the lamp, drawing a spiral

in the gravel. "Look at this, One Who Cries. See what I draw. The ice is melting. The world is changing. Look at the spiral. See the way it's a circle on top of a circle? Like the Dance of the seasons, the years, and the lifetimes of a man, a mountain, and a world. Everything is One. It all goes around and around. An eternal Dance."

One Who Cries studied the spiral and realized the Power it held.

"Use it," Wolf Dreamer remarked. "Remember, it's the sign of the One. So is a cross, opposites crossed, like the Directions. Each symbol like that is a reflection of life. It's a drawing for what can't be expressed in words."

"Singing Wolf ought to be here."

"You'll tell him after I'm gone."

His heart stopped, breath stilled in his lungs. He stared hollowly into the Dreamer's serene eyes. "Gone?"

"Life and death; it's all the same."

As One Who Cries searched his mind for the right words, he watched Wolf Dreamer's eyes glassing over as he drifted away again.

"Wolf Dreamer?" Then more softly, "Wolf . . . Dreamer? Where are you going? Don't leave us."

"Their women come first." Eagle Cries looked up from the rock he lay on, perplexed as he stared into the blowing snow.

"Looks like an entire clan on the move. Coming right for us. But I've never heard of the Others coming with the women first. And look, there's children with them."

"This will be a slaughter," Eagle Cries added with a grin. "Kill their women, and they'll never come so arrogantly to our land again."

Singing Wolf's hard face tightened, eyes far away, as if

envisioning his own wife and child facing darts. Dancing Fox squinted into the growing storm.

"There's one man walking in the front," Big Mouth called softly from the side. "See? The one with the white cloak slung about his parka. That's a man. Why only one?"

"Ice Fire." Dancing Fox sat up. "Not only that, but see, he comes to the place where we turned back their advance scouts. No, I think this is more than an attempt at taking our land. If it was war they sought, the young men would come first—alone."

"You're not going to trust Others?" Eagle Cries looked up.

Crow Foot and Full Moon grumbled to each other on the other side of the defile. Dancing Fox shot a hot glance in their direction. "Eagle Cries, if any of the young men start something, your first cast is into them."

"Into our own ..." His mouth dropped open.

Dancing Fox tilted her head, knowing all eyes had gone to her.

"That's what she said," Singing Wolf supported. "I heard, the Dreamer put her in charge of the warriors. He came out from a Dreaming and told me. Act against Dancing Fox, and you act against the Dreamer and the People."

Eagle Cries dropped his eyes, a sullen expression on his face.

"You can always follow in the footsteps of Crow Caller," Dancing Fox reminded casually. "No one forces you to obey the Dreamer."

The warriors stared uneasily back and forth as she crawled back from the edge.

"What are you doing?'' Singing Wolf cried, trying to keep his voice down.

"I'm going to see what Ice Fire—if that's who that is— wants. I'm going to see why he's come like this, leading women and children."

"It's a trap," Eagle Cries sputtered angrily. "These are Others, woman. The ones who drove us from our lands. You'd talk with such maggots?"

She stared at him, a cool control asserted in her crossed arms. "It's time to see what can be done about all this. The Others know the way to the hole in the Big Ice. What do we

do? Try and stop them? Just the handful of us who remain on this side of the ice? If we try and stand up to them, we'll die. You, me, our families. Moon Water knows the way. Our old people can't outrun their young warriors. We can't close the hole through the ice. So, what will we do? Here, at least, we have an opportunity to talk.''

"Go." Singing Wolf motioned, eyes on Eagle Cries. "It's time for sense instead of anger. Perhaps words will do what darts have failed to."

"Cover me from above. If they didn't come to talk, I'll try to kill Ice Fire and escape up the trail. Our position is strong enough you should be able to keep them off.'' She hesitated. "Assuming a dart from above doesn't skewer me."

Eagle Cries' jaw ground loudly, muscles knotting in his cheeks as he lowered his eyes. "You'll be safe from above," he mumbled. "I swear by the spirits of the Long Dark." He looked meaningfully at the rest of the warriors where they crouched in the rocks, watching.

Nodding sharply, she took the trail.

Her ankle pained her, sending stitches up her leg. But then,. it always did now when a storm was blowing down.

She stepped down the rocks into the narrow defile, winding around the bend where they'd ambushed the Other warriors. That event, too, had strained her authority. Perhaps, however, it now paid off. Perhaps the lives of those warriors had brought Ice Fire.

She stepped around the corner, seeing the Others climbing up from below. Snow had begun to fall from the darkening sky, big fluffy flakes landing on her shoulders, sticking to the fur at the side of her hood, melting coldly on her bare hand where she gripped her darts.

The man in the front looked up, stopping. A young man ran up from behind, pointing to the cleft where she waited, chattering excitedly to the leader before running nimbly back down through the gathering Others. A visible tension rippled through the group as they shaded eyes against the snow, staring up at her from under the flats of their hands.

She stepped forward, anxiously bracing her feet apart. The man continued his walk up the trail, now less than a dart's throw away.

As he closed, she studied him. Tall, lean, he wore a dou-

bled parka, hood thrown back to expose his long graying hair. A white fox-skin cloak lay over his shoulders. His feet moved surely on the trail, each step light.

Her heart began to pound again as she looked into his knowing eyes. A Power lay there, a Power like the one she'd seen in a young Runs In Light's face. A longing restricted the base of her throat. She'd loved the man who'd once looked at her out of those eyes.

"Ice Fire?" she asked when he finally stopped, no more than a body length away.

He nodded, studying her. His handsome face hardened. "Dancing Fox."

She stared intently, going over his every feature.
He looks so much like Runs In Light.

"Tell me what you're seeing?" he asked softly.

"Nothing ... I ... you look like someone I know."

"And you look like someone I knew once. She was part of a Dream. Had the Spirit Powers and Heron not been interfering, and had I been in possession of my senses . . . things might have happened differently that day on the beach."

His voice touched something deep within. A shiver finger traced up her back. "Spirit Power makes people do strange things."

He nodded, heedless of the rapidly falling snow that swirled on the whimpering wind. "You sent my warriors back."

"The time for killing is over. You came with women and children in the lead. What do you want here? This last refuge you've left us is almost devoid of game. We haven't much left but our lives and our honor. Still, we'll keep what's ours if you've come to take it."

His nostrils flared as he filled his lungs. A curious smile bent his lips. "Perhaps the time for taking from one another is over, too."

A tracing of humor animated his eyes. A part of her instinctively sought to trust him. She waited, knowing the bargain was yet to come. He watched her, as if knowing her very thoughts. A quizzical expression vied with a deep regret — in his sensitive eyes.

"Is it?" she riposted.

"We've taken your land. You've taken our soul. Haven't we hurt each other enough?"

"We've heard your people live to kill, that the warrior way is where you find honor. Have you changed so much since I sent your warriors back?"

He dropped his eyes to stare at the snow gathering on her long boots. "Perhaps it's not a change so much as a return to the old ways.''

"I don't understand."

"We come from the same people. Didn't Heron tell you? Had my grandfathers not feared yours, our loins would have interlocked. Our clans would share meat over a warm fire today." He paused, eyes softening. "Had Spirit Power not intervened, perhaps these years of war and rape would have been avoided."

She watched him warily. "You seem at home with Spirit Power.''

The lines around his mouth tightened. ' 'Spirit Power is just that. Power. How it's used—what it becomes—depends on the emotions of people involved. Some will use it for only, good. Some for only evil. I've reason to regret some uses and to hope for others."

She nodded, respecting the earnest way he spoke, attracted to his humility. "You and your people climbed so far to tell us that?"

He shook his head. "We came for something of ours that you have."

"The White Hide?"

"Yes."

She slitted her eyes, tensing. "One of our people has that hide. His name is Raven Hunter. He has been disgraced by our Dreamer.''

"We know him. We'd planned on torturing him to death for the horrors he committed on our relatives. He escaped, taking our most sacred White Hide with him. Now we must get it back. Perhaps we can come to an agreement which will accomplish several aims. Will you and your warriors accept a truce? Will you be willing to listen as we listen to you?"

She considered, studying him, looking for the trap. "A lot of pain has been inflicted. Many of the People cry for the blood of Others. They cry for revenge."

A grunt of assertion came from above despite the orders to remain quiet. Ice Fire must have heard, but he betrayed nothing, gaze steadily locked with hers. "It won't be easy," he admitted frankly. "Among the White Tusk Clan, many have suffered at your hands. Even my Singer wishes death for all of you." A wry smile crossed his lips. "Is that not yet another thing which binds us to each other?''

She chuckled before she caught herself.

A twinkle of appreciation sparkled in his knowing eyes. "Leaders with a sense of humor can get along."

She nodded. "Maybe. Tell me where we shall talk?"

He gestured over his shoulder. "A storm comes. I see from your clothing that times have been hard. There has been little game in your camps recently. If you will allow us to camp on your land, we will supply you with shelters and food. Our hunters had a good year. Perhaps we can begin a mending of the rift between our peoples. Out of all this trouble, perhaps we can bring good. Do you think Father Sun would mind our offering a truce for peace in his name?"

Her eyes narrowed. He wanted to make an offering to the-People's gods? Where was the flaw? Could she trust this man she instinctively liked? He did offer food and shelter. Too many nights they'd been freezing in their worn-out parkas, huddled together for shared warmth.