“This is where it happened?”
“Right back there,” said Shonan.
They all stared down at the print of Salya’s back.
Two words raged in Shonan’s mind. My daughter .
My twin , thought Aku.
“They’re going to kill her,” said Shonan.
Aku hesitated for a long moment. His twin, a part of himself. Though their faces were not the same, their mother always said they had the same eyes. “It’s uncanny.”
Finally, Aku said, “They could have killed her right here. They want something else.”
“We’re going after her.”
Iona said, “Let’s go to the council lodge.” The three walked back toward the village, the younger two hurrying to keep up with the Red Chief. Shonan said, “These Amasos are supposed to be one people with us, but they’re holding out.”
As they walked, Aku’s mind leapt back to when he stood at the edge of the river tying his breechcloth on. From one pine needle a single raindrop had fallen, and pinged him. Now he felt like it seeped through his skull and trickled down his veins to his heart.
7
R ed Chief Shonan, Amaso chief Chalu, and the seer Oghi sat at the center of the run-down council house and smoked the pipe. Until now, the Amaso had never had a red chief for war, as Galayi towns did. Aku wondered how they felt about this change, and about listening to a governor who was still in truth an outsider. Aku watched the sea turtle man checking the rising smoke for omens.
Aku and Iona stood next to Chalu to sign to both peoples. “This happened three years ago,” said Chalu.
“The Brown Leaf people have stolen your women before?” Shonan’s thick eyebrows bristled.
Chalu stared into space. Beside him the sea turtle man drew his head almost down to his knees.
“And two years before that,” said Chalu.
Now the white scar blazed against Shonan’s red skin. “How long has this been going on?”
Aku wanted to apologize to Iona for his father, but he said nothing.
“Three times altogether,” said the sea turtle man.
“So that’s why you wanted to join villages with us.”
People stirred.
Pride flickered in Chalu’s eyes. “We have something to give in return.”
Shonan’s comment was hypocritical. Everyone knew the bargain was fair, and protection was Shonan’s job.
“Always in midsummer?” said Shonan. Meaning, This moon, when you suggested we arrive?
“Yes.”
Shonan said something under his breath. To Aku it looked like, “Bastards.” He didn’t sign it.
“You never saw any of the women again?”
“No.”
Iona looked into Aku’s eyes. She wanted to slip her arm around Aku’s waist, but resisted. He took a deep breath and felt his mind get less jangly. For a moment he took her hand in his.
Shonan turned to Oghi.
“What do you think?”
Oghi tore grasses out of the ground, bunched them up, and dropped them. Then he glanced slyly at Shonan. “There are old stories. The mountain peoples used to raid their neighbors and steal one unmarried woman every summer. Stories said … they sacrificed the woman to the Uktena.”
Every Galayi and every Amaso man, woman, and child knew about the Uktena, though few had seen him and none lived to tell about it. This creature was a horned dragon with the girth of a tree trunk. Its fish scales, spotted with great daubs of color, were thick as slate. Its one eye was a blazing diamond, which blinded anyone who dared to attack the monster.
The tales came down from long ago. All the people of the western mountains told similar stories. The Uktena had many names, bedded down in many places, haunted many mountain passes, plagued many villages. It was said that the Uktena, or Uktenas, lived in caves in the mountains and leftthe nearby tribes alone on one condition—that the tribes bring human sacrifices.
“Those are children’s stories,” said Shonan. “My people live in the mountains, and we have seen no sign of any dragon.”
Oghi shrugged. “The stories died out before the memories of the
“Right back there,” said Shonan.
They all stared down at the print of Salya’s back.
Two words raged in Shonan’s mind. My daughter .
My twin , thought Aku.
“They’re going to kill her,” said Shonan.
Aku hesitated for a long moment. His twin, a part of himself. Though their faces were not the same, their mother always said they had the same eyes. “It’s uncanny.”
Finally, Aku said, “They could have killed her right here. They want something else.”
“We’re going after her.”
Iona said, “Let’s go to the council lodge.” The three walked back toward the village, the younger two hurrying to keep up with the Red Chief. Shonan said, “These Amasos are supposed to be one people with us, but they’re holding out.”
As they walked, Aku’s mind leapt back to when he stood at the edge of the river tying his breechcloth on. From one pine needle a single raindrop had fallen, and pinged him. Now he felt like it seeped through his skull and trickled down his veins to his heart.
7
R ed Chief Shonan, Amaso chief Chalu, and the seer Oghi sat at the center of the run-down council house and smoked the pipe. Until now, the Amaso had never had a red chief for war, as Galayi towns did. Aku wondered how they felt about this change, and about listening to a governor who was still in truth an outsider. Aku watched the sea turtle man checking the rising smoke for omens.
Aku and Iona stood next to Chalu to sign to both peoples. “This happened three years ago,” said Chalu.
“The Brown Leaf people have stolen your women before?” Shonan’s thick eyebrows bristled.
Chalu stared into space. Beside him the sea turtle man drew his head almost down to his knees.
“And two years before that,” said Chalu.
Now the white scar blazed against Shonan’s red skin. “How long has this been going on?”
Aku wanted to apologize to Iona for his father, but he said nothing.
“Three times altogether,” said the sea turtle man.
“So that’s why you wanted to join villages with us.”
People stirred.
Pride flickered in Chalu’s eyes. “We have something to give in return.”
Shonan’s comment was hypocritical. Everyone knew the bargain was fair, and protection was Shonan’s job.
“Always in midsummer?” said Shonan. Meaning, This moon, when you suggested we arrive?
“Yes.”
Shonan said something under his breath. To Aku it looked like, “Bastards.” He didn’t sign it.
“You never saw any of the women again?”
“No.”
Iona looked into Aku’s eyes. She wanted to slip her arm around Aku’s waist, but resisted. He took a deep breath and felt his mind get less jangly. For a moment he took her hand in his.
Shonan turned to Oghi.
“What do you think?”
Oghi tore grasses out of the ground, bunched them up, and dropped them. Then he glanced slyly at Shonan. “There are old stories. The mountain peoples used to raid their neighbors and steal one unmarried woman every summer. Stories said … they sacrificed the woman to the Uktena.”
Every Galayi and every Amaso man, woman, and child knew about the Uktena, though few had seen him and none lived to tell about it. This creature was a horned dragon with the girth of a tree trunk. Its fish scales, spotted with great daubs of color, were thick as slate. Its one eye was a blazing diamond, which blinded anyone who dared to attack the monster.
The tales came down from long ago. All the people of the western mountains told similar stories. The Uktena had many names, bedded down in many places, haunted many mountain passes, plagued many villages. It was said that the Uktena, or Uktenas, lived in caves in the mountains and leftthe nearby tribes alone on one condition—that the tribes bring human sacrifices.
“Those are children’s stories,” said Shonan. “My people live in the mountains, and we have seen no sign of any dragon.”
Oghi shrugged. “The stories died out before the memories of the
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