me that she is very ill, my chief. She needs our help. If our people will allow me to—”
“Silence!” the youth ordered. “I haven’t even decided if she
will live through the night, let alone if I will allow the Loon People’s greatest Healer to cure her! Why should I? She killed my father!”
Strongheart bowed his head and softly answered, “Our people are wise and kind, my chief. I think they will be generous.”
Sora gave Strongheart an askance look. How cleverly he’d reminded the new chief that the decision was not his, but his people’s.
It seemed to humble Horned Owl. He turned back to Sora and lowered his chin. “Ordinarily the Loon People do not kill those who are ill; instead we work very hard to cure them. Death is only considered if the sick person cannot be cured and continues to harm others. We—”
“Then our peoples have similar beliefs, Chief Horned Owl. We gather the sick person in our arms—”
In the shrill voice of an angry child, he shouted, “Do not ever interrupt me again or I will send your pretty head back to Matron Wink in a net fishing bag!”
Sora just stared. Was he that politically inept?
Horned Owl continued, “Your former husband, the hero Flint, has told me a great many things about you. He says that my father is not the first person you have murdered. He says that in order to become chieftess you drowned your older sister, who by all rights should have ascended to the chieftainship after your mother. He also claims that when your mother, Chieftess Yellow Cypress, disagreed with you about a decision to go to war, you shoved her over a cliff. Did you kill your own mother?”
Her face flushed. What was Flint doing? Trying to help her or get her killed?
“I don’t remember killing anyone.”
Strongheart added, “I have examined her, my chief, and I believe she’s telling the truth. She does not remember because
her reflection-soul isn’t home when the killings happen; it’s out wandering the forests.”
Without taking his eyes from Sora, Horned Owl asked, “Can you find her lost soul and bring it to her body?”
Strongheart gestured uncertainly. “I don’t know, but I would like to try.”
Flint stepped forward and said, “If Strongheart Heals her, I assure you the Black Falcon Nation will be very grateful. They will shower the Loon People with wealth, my chief.”
The youth’s dark eyes gleamed, as though he could already see the bright fabrics, woven buffalo wool capes, and exotic Trade items. “As you know, Chieftess Sora, my people are poor and hungry. Not more than a moon ago we discovered eleven Black Falcon villagers stealing food from our gathering grounds. We captured them and have been working to come to a fair agreement that pays us for the damage they caused, but your people have been arrogant. You, yourself, were supposed to meet with my father twenty days ago to negotiate the release of the captives, but you never came. Your war party camped outside our village and an ugly man named Walking Bird came in to negotiate the release of hostages. You didn’t come. You disgraced my father.”
Twenty days ago? Blessed gods, she didn’t remember it at all … .
She said, “I’m here now. I will discuss any arrangements you think are fair.”
Horned Owl imperiously waved a hand. “Take her to the Captives’ House. We will decide her fate tomorrow.”
Strongheart took Sora’s arm, said, “Of course, my chief,” and led her away through the whispering crowd. Two warriors followed close behind them.
The Captive’s House stood at the eastern edge of the village surrounded on three sides by the shallow marsh. Mist had begun
to curl and twist through the tall reeds. As Dusk Girl spread her gray hem over the land, insects crept from their hiding places and climbed upward in a glittering haze.
They neared the house—perhaps four body lengths across—and Sora heard voices, a child crying, then a woman speaking in a soothing voice. Six
“Silence!” the youth ordered. “I haven’t even decided if she
will live through the night, let alone if I will allow the Loon People’s greatest Healer to cure her! Why should I? She killed my father!”
Strongheart bowed his head and softly answered, “Our people are wise and kind, my chief. I think they will be generous.”
Sora gave Strongheart an askance look. How cleverly he’d reminded the new chief that the decision was not his, but his people’s.
It seemed to humble Horned Owl. He turned back to Sora and lowered his chin. “Ordinarily the Loon People do not kill those who are ill; instead we work very hard to cure them. Death is only considered if the sick person cannot be cured and continues to harm others. We—”
“Then our peoples have similar beliefs, Chief Horned Owl. We gather the sick person in our arms—”
In the shrill voice of an angry child, he shouted, “Do not ever interrupt me again or I will send your pretty head back to Matron Wink in a net fishing bag!”
Sora just stared. Was he that politically inept?
Horned Owl continued, “Your former husband, the hero Flint, has told me a great many things about you. He says that my father is not the first person you have murdered. He says that in order to become chieftess you drowned your older sister, who by all rights should have ascended to the chieftainship after your mother. He also claims that when your mother, Chieftess Yellow Cypress, disagreed with you about a decision to go to war, you shoved her over a cliff. Did you kill your own mother?”
Her face flushed. What was Flint doing? Trying to help her or get her killed?
“I don’t remember killing anyone.”
Strongheart added, “I have examined her, my chief, and I believe she’s telling the truth. She does not remember because
her reflection-soul isn’t home when the killings happen; it’s out wandering the forests.”
Without taking his eyes from Sora, Horned Owl asked, “Can you find her lost soul and bring it to her body?”
Strongheart gestured uncertainly. “I don’t know, but I would like to try.”
Flint stepped forward and said, “If Strongheart Heals her, I assure you the Black Falcon Nation will be very grateful. They will shower the Loon People with wealth, my chief.”
The youth’s dark eyes gleamed, as though he could already see the bright fabrics, woven buffalo wool capes, and exotic Trade items. “As you know, Chieftess Sora, my people are poor and hungry. Not more than a moon ago we discovered eleven Black Falcon villagers stealing food from our gathering grounds. We captured them and have been working to come to a fair agreement that pays us for the damage they caused, but your people have been arrogant. You, yourself, were supposed to meet with my father twenty days ago to negotiate the release of the captives, but you never came. Your war party camped outside our village and an ugly man named Walking Bird came in to negotiate the release of hostages. You didn’t come. You disgraced my father.”
Twenty days ago? Blessed gods, she didn’t remember it at all … .
She said, “I’m here now. I will discuss any arrangements you think are fair.”
Horned Owl imperiously waved a hand. “Take her to the Captives’ House. We will decide her fate tomorrow.”
Strongheart took Sora’s arm, said, “Of course, my chief,” and led her away through the whispering crowd. Two warriors followed close behind them.
The Captive’s House stood at the eastern edge of the village surrounded on three sides by the shallow marsh. Mist had begun
to curl and twist through the tall reeds. As Dusk Girl spread her gray hem over the land, insects crept from their hiding places and climbed upward in a glittering haze.
They neared the house—perhaps four body lengths across—and Sora heard voices, a child crying, then a woman speaking in a soothing voice. Six
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