Darkthaw (18 page)

“You can tell me one you told before,” Daniel offers.

Isi draws in a breath, like he's gathering patience. “We are trying to keep quiet as we move.”

Daniel peers at him. “But you and Em were shouting at each other just now.”

I flush as I realize how we're acting in front of this child. “We were just speaking on some things,” I say.

Daniel looks between us.

“It's better to move quietly,” Isi says.

“All right,” Daniel says, nodding his head serious-like. “You can whisper it.”

I press my lips together to hide a smile.

Isi sighs. Daniel's hit his weakness. Telling stories to the youngsters was the one time all winterkill he looked happy, not fit to bust through the walls of our quarters and hightail it back to his people.

Isi swings Daniel up into his arms again and brushes the boy's hair off of his forehead with one hand. “Fine,” he says.

Daniel's eyes light up.

We resume our pace, but I can feel Isi's anger crackling over to me. I raise my chin and look up at the trees as we walk.

Isi begins: “When I was a boy and I was out wandering the forest one day, I found a small bird—a baby—that had fallen from its nest.”

“Was it alive?”

“Yes, it was not damaged. It had perfect fuzzy wings, like this”—I steal a glance and see Isi raise his free hand; he spreads his fingers apart to show a small space—“and a tiny beak and soft fluff on the top of its head.”

“Was it scared?” Daniel says.

Isi nods. “I was gentle, and I caught it and held it in my hands. But it was so small I could crush it with a quick fist.”

Daniel lets out a small gasp of horrified delight.

“I wanted to help it,” Isi continues. “I wanted to put it back where it belonged, so I spent all morning searching for its nest.”

“Did you find it?” Daniel asks.

“I did. I climbed the tree, careful not to drop the little bird. But because I was using one hand so that I could take the baby bird up safely, I missed a handhold and was speared in the neck with a tree branch.”

Daniel's eyes widen. “You got hurt?”

“The cut was deep, but not too deep.”

“And then what?”

“And then I put the baby bird back in its nest and climbed down.”

Daniel laughs with delight. “You saved it. You saved that bird.”

Isi shakes his head. “That's what I thought, too,” he says. “But when I got home, my
moshum—
my grandfather—told me that because I had held the baby in my hand, there was no way the mother bird would accept it.”

My skin prickles.

“What do you mean?” Daniel cranes his neck to look Isi in the eyes. “Its ma didn't want it back?”

Isi nods. “It would've been better to leave the bird there, alone and scared, than put it someplace it didn't belong.”

He looks over at me and holds my gaze.

I flush. Clear my throat. “You shouldn't carry Daniel,” I say. “It worries the stitches.”

“We are too slow with him walking,” he says. He looks at my foot. “And we are too slow already.”

THE MAN AND WOMAN APPEAR FROM NOWHERE.

Daniel and I are sitting on a rock next to our packs, and they emerge from beneath the spruce boughs, silent and pale—like ghosts.

Isi moves lightning quick, leaping in front of Daniel and me, his hand flying to his knife. I jump to my feet.

The two start and pull up short, seeming as surprised as we are, but I see the woman's hand also dart to her side. A long knife is sheathed at her belt.

“Wait,” the man says, grabbing the woman's arm. He holds up his hands to show us there's nothing in them. His right hand is bandaged with a brown cloth. “We mean you no harm,” he says.

Isi doesn't move. His hand stays on the handle of his knife. “Turn around and walk away,” he says, his voice low and deadly.

“You first,” the woman states.

I stare at them. They're about the same height, and their
skin is pale—like the girls who worked indoors at the settlement. Their clothes are something like Henderson's were but seem a mite more battered and dirty—like they've been journeying without stopping for several days.

Or like they've just been in some sort of skirmish.

My breath gets short as I look them over. First Peoples attacked that homestead. Least, I think so. Don't remember a woman in the mix, but everything happened so fast.

I can tell by the way Isi's standing that he's not taking any chances. His hand hovers near his knife's handle.

The four of us measure one another in heavy silence.

A humming starts up, filling the space with random notes that make up no kind of tune.

What on earth—

“Hop. Hop. The bunny hop, hop, hopped.”

Daniel. Almighty. He's either remembered the words to that bleedin' rabbit song or he's making them up.

“And it hopped on up a tree.”

Making them up.

Isi shifts, ever so slight, and the man looks at Daniel, his brows knitted in confusion. The nonsense song continues, warbling high and all out of tune.

“Shhh,” I hiss, throwing a glance over my shoulder. Daniel just closes his eyes and sings louder and less tuneful than before. I pull myself straighter and turn back to the man and woman, trying to look intimidating.

“Bunny, bunny, bunneeee, hop, hop, hop.”

The woman's nostrils flare, and her lips quirk. She's trying not to laugh.

I can't take it anymore.

“Daniel!” I admonish, turning around and kneeling before him. “It's all right. Shhh! Look.” I grab his hands. “See? We're just talking.” I reach out and smack the back of Isi's leg.

He drops his hand from his knife. The woman drops her hand from her side, too. Daniel stops singing. He looks up at me. Peers around Isi at the man and woman.

“We mean you no harm,” the man says again. “How about you go on your way and we'll go on ours?” These people aren't interested in us. Curious as I am about them, I'm happy for us to part without any sort of trouble.

Isi nods. He turns and picks Daniel up, swinging him onto his back. “Let's go,” he says to me.

As I turn to follow, I notice the leather case dangling from the man's pack. It's long and cylindrical—like the one Henderson had in his effects.

I can't help it. “You mapmakers?” I ask them.

The man nods. “Unofficially.”

I squint at him.

“We're not contracted,” he explains. “We've been scouting this land on our own, drawing up maps to sell back east.”

Now Isi turns around. “On foot?” His voice is hard and full of disbelief.

“We lost our horses,” the woman says, but the man's eyes dart nervous-like.

Isi's eyes narrow. “How?”

They share a glance. Something isn't right here.

The woman clears her throat. “How about you tell us what you're doing out here?” she asks.

“I think not,” Isi says. “Come, Em.” He jerks his head and hoists Daniel farther up on his back, turning away.

“You're headed up this creek?” the woman asks, her eyes widening. “You know where this leads?” There's fear in her eyes. And all at once I realize she's not asking us for her sake. She's asking us for ours.

Isi turns around again.

“Do you?” I ask her.

“Yes.” She looks at Daniel. “And it's no place for a little one.”

I look at Isi. His eyes are scanning her face. I can tell we're wondering the same thing: does she know the men who took Nico?

Isi swings Daniel to the ground and crouches next to him. “Find as many fiddleheads as you can,” he says, and I realize he's giving Daniel something to do so we can talk to these people. “But stay where you can see me.”

Daniel nods. He eyes the woman and man and heads for the base of the nearest tree behind us.

The four of us look one another over again.

“Sit?” the woman finally says, gesturing to some fallen logs that crisscross one another.

I settle myself across from the strange pair. Isi does not sit; he stands beside me, his arms crossed over his chest. Up close, the woman looks about ten years older than me. I thought her hair was tied back, but now I see it's cut strange, just below her ears. The man has a scraggly, dark beard and deep-set eyes.

“I'm Em,” I offer. “This is Isi.”

“I'm Elizabeth Sharapay,” the woman says, and it strikes me odd that she speaks first. “This is my husband, Ulysses.” The man inclines his head.

Husband
. I search my brain for the word and then realize by how familiar they sit beside each other it must mean life mate.

I clear my throat. “You said you lost your horses?”

Again the man's eyes dart, but the woman's face remains calm. “I will tell you about that,” she says. “But first, can you tell me why you're heading up this creek?”

I feel Isi stiffen. He doesn't want me to say too much to these strangers, but I don't have a choice. The only way we'll get information is by offering some.

“We are going to get one of our own back,” I say, careful. “He was taken by some men off this way.”

“Just the . . . two of you?” she asks.

I sit up straighter. “Isi's tracked them this far.”

Again, Elizabeth and Ulysses exchange a glance. Ulysses gestures at his pack, and Elizabeth nods. He fumbles with the cylindrical case, unlatching it and pulling out a parchment like the one Henderson had.

As he spreads it open for us to see, I notice the rough brown cloth is darker in the spot over his little finger—like it's seeping blood.

I take a deep breath and study the parchment. The map looks something like the one Henderson showed us—with the large river on the east side and the mountains on the west—but it's missing all of the symbols to the south. Ulysses points to a winding line running east and west that wasn't on Henderson's map. With a finger on his good hand, he traces to a series of
X
s. Next to those symbols, a bigger line winds, but it's incomplete. Another river?

“What is that?” I ask.

“That is where you're headed,” Elizabeth says. “You're a few hours away yet.” Her mouth twists in a grimace. “They call it Leon's Keep.”

“Who is
they
?”

“The bastards who run it.” She says it mild, but her voice contains a tremor. She clears her throat. “I'd advise you to steer clear of them. If they've taken one of your people, they aim to keep him.”

“How do you know this?” I ask, though now I'm not sure I want the answer. That bandage on Ulysses's hand draws my eyes. “Did your . . . mapmaking take you there?”

She nods. “We were trying to map west to the mountains and came upon their camp two days ago. We didn't realize what kind of men they were until it was nearly too late.”

I look to Isi. His eyes are measuring the truth of the woman's words.

“Lucky for us, they wanted a map drawn up.” Her voice is bitter. She doesn't sound like they were lucky. “They let us go on the condition we'd return with it.”

“A map of what?”

“This area to the north. They want to know if there are any new settlements up this way.”

“Why?”

“They're carving out territory. Trapping the big predators that pose a threat.” I think about Nishwa's leg in that giant steel jaw. “Running people off who settle on the land they want for themselves.”

That homestead. Our attackers were men from this Keep she's talking about. My throat gets tight. My fortification is to the north.

“We . . . found a burnt homestead a few miles back,” I say. “By the big river. I think the owner was among the . . . mess.”

“They'd make an example out of anyone who refused,” Ulysses says, and I see Elizabeth sit up straighter. An example. I look at his hand. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

I think back to the raid. Think about that man rolling faceup next to me.

“These men,” I say. “Are they
osanaskisiwak
?”

Both of them squint at me like they don't know the term.

“First Peoples?”

“Ah.” Elizabeth's face lights. “Yes, there were a few in the mix. But Leon and the rest are Cormorant.”

Now it's my turn to look lost.

“From back east,” she says. “Cormorant Bay?”

I'm still lost but decide they don't need to know that. “What do they want?” I ask instead.

“Claim to as much land as they can get before the Dominion arrives,” Ulysses answers. “They're setting to make their own governance, starting with establishing their boundaries.”

“Where are these boundaries?” I ask.

“Well, they're expanding,” Ulysses says. “But so far”—he points at the map—“they seem to be laying claim to everything from this big river near the Keep they're building”—he indicates the larger line, the one I assumed was a river—“east to the Snake.” He points at the river that was on Henderson's map—the one I assume winds past my settlement.