The black woman remained impassive.
You’re right, the Crow admitted. There were almost audible sighs of relief
from the crowd. These are extraordinary circumstances, son, and our mission
takes precedence over everything else, even the Covenant, but it doesn’t excuse
improper manners. You couldn’t manage my name in your language, so just call me
Raven. Everybody does. The lady also has an untranslatable name, but the sounds
are there. She is called Manka Warlock, and she is in the Caribe what I am in
the western mountains. Her mere presence here should show you that this is
something very important.
It did. The Caribe and their tropical islands were placed in the South American
District and did not work for council at all or have authority here even from on
high. That, Black Bear Foot suspected, was why the Crow was here: He, too, was
out of his normal region, but a Council man was a Council man no matter what his
tribe and nation.
We are looking for a man. Late thirties, Hyiakutt but a linguist and a Council
worker on Leave. He might be traveling with a Hyiakutt woman, medium, good
build, early thirties. I know what this place is and what it does. They got past
us up north; I doubt if they got past you.
The young man sighed. They were here. They—picked up supplies and went on this
morning down the river.
The Crow Agency man gave the acting chief a hard look. Probably about three in
the morning with your father as hostage from the looks of things. Don’t worry. I
really don’t know those whom we seek, but this village and your father have a
reputation that reaches to the upper end of the Missouri. That, and I see the
two bodies back there.
My father and some of those he trusted were careless, the young man told him,
deciding to tell the truth. The strangers did not seem dangerous. Their canoe
was swamped. They were brought in naked and carrying nothing.
Uh huh. Only helpless. So they got you good, took the chief, and you’re all
here in a prayer meeting praying to the Great Spirit that they don’t send him
back. That about it?
No. Even now those responsible are being dispatched to chase them down the
river, while runners prepare to notify our allies. I mean to have their hides
and my father back alive.
Raven turned to the woman and spoke in a strange language. They were here,
naked. Lost everything when the canoe went over, probably from that hypno
shield. They fought their way out and snatched the chief early this morning. I
figure five, maybe six hours tops. What do you think?
I think we had better go on the river, she responded without changing her
gaze. We will never catch them this way, and we would need to be ferried from
this point as it is. I think we underestimated our little historian and his
native wench, but they have nothing, you say.
Nothing tangible, but he wouldn’t be running so hard and so bloody if he hadn’t
read ’em all through. He knows what those papers said. He’s the only one in the
whole area who could read ’em, and he finds ’em. The hell with the papers. He’s
the papers now.
She nodded. Very well. He is on the run from Council and from these people. He
will not be moving fast but cautiously.
The Crow switched back to Illinois. Do you know where he is trying to go?
My father said he was trying to reach Nawlins. He is in trouble and needs an
ally in Council.
Raven thought a moment. Mud Runner! Got to be! he said in the black woman’s
Caribe English.
Who is this Mud Runner person?
Resident Agent. Probably an old pal. He’s set up in the swamps south of
Nawlins.
She nodded again. Good. That means that he must keep to the river. It is a very
long way to Nawlins from here, even longer when you must guard against your own
shadow. We will proceed by water.
Yeah, but these slobs couldn’t catch their own dinner with a net, and we’re
both on unfamiliar ground. We’ll go right past him.
Perhaps, she said. If so, it will only delay things. We know where he is
going.
Yeah. And if they sic a Val on him, what then?
If these pirates had killed him, what then? We can only do the possible and
play the odds. From the looks of things here, he might make it, even with a Val
on his tail. The Val can’t play the percentages. It must check every little
piece of river for him, although it, too, will head for this Mud Runner in the
end. We must be certain that we get to them first.
You ever think this could put a Val on our tails? Whatever this is, it’s big.
Big enough for a guy to throw it all away and go wild. Big enough to send a Val
in the first place, and maybe all of ’em.
You have always bragged that you could take a Val. If they put one or two on
us, then you will get the opportunity to test your theories. Come. We must not
remain here long.
Yeah, he sighed. Even if these are our kind of people.
* * *
Chief Roaring Bull knew his section of the river like the old hand he was, and
he knew balances, shifts, and other ways to manage an overloaded canoe through
occasional rough water and tiny whirlpools. They learned a great deal from him
and crossed the area where the mighty Missouri dumped into the Mississippi with
no more than minor incidents. Hawks kept him aboard for extra safety, but the
man was quickly passing from an asset to a liability.
Twice they had been hailed from shore or intercepted by canoe, and twice the old
chief had done himself proud talking them out of any potential dangers. It
wasn’t that the strangers weren’t suspicious; Hawks had the distinct impression
that the four warriors in the canoe knew or at least suspected exactly what was
going on. But the barely suppressed snickers on their faces showed that they
only took bribes from Roaring Bull; they really didn’t like him any more than
anyone else did, and in the absence of a general alarm or big reward, they
really weren’t that upset to see the old boy embarrassed and compromised.
Besides, they could always claim later that they weren’t really sure and that
the chief had had ample opportunities to cause his captors trouble, yet had not.
They passed the site south of the confluence of the rivers where once, Hawks
knew, a mighty complex of cities had stood. Nothing was there now; the forests
on both sides looked virgin and ancient, and even the foundations of ancient
bridges had long ago succumbed to the power of the river.
It is now time to bid you farewell, he told the old chief. Stand up and do
not topple the canoe.
Stand up? But you said you would let me off when we passed the Missouri!
1 intend to keep my word. You may leave now.
The old man looked around. But we are in the middle of the river!
I did not promise any more than this. You can swim. Sooner or later you will
make it to shore just by floating and letting the river carry you. By then we
will be long gone.
The old chief glared at him. A curse on you all, then! I might never know who
got you or why, but I look at three of the walking dead here. Sooner or later,
perhaps in hours or days, you will encounter someone whom you cannot take. Then
it will be over.
Jump, fat man. That is our problem.
With a last angry glance, the old chief jumped into the river and was soon left
far behind.
With his weight gone, the canoe became far more manageable and almost enjoyable
to use. Little effort was required except to steer away from snags and keep
within the current.
Where do we go now, my fierce warrior? Cloud Dancer asked.
Keep an eye out for men digging on a bluff to our right. It might be any time
but will probably not be for some hours. I overheard the traders at the village
say that there was a team from Council doing some digging along here, and I want
to find them.
Digging? What sort of digging?
They are finding the remains of nations that were here not only before us but
before the ones who were here after our ancestors. They will have certain things
that we need.
She turned and looked at him. Remains? They are grave robbers?
When things get ancient enough, it is no longer grave robbing but a way to
learn how ancient people lived, worked, and thought. It is why we know so much
about our own ancestors.
She considered that. Grave robbers. A fancy name they might have for it, but it
is disturbing sacred dead.
He shrugged. If she wanted to think of them as grave robbers, that was fine with
him. Of course, archaeologists were grave robbers, anyway; it was the motive,
not the act, that was the only difference.
What will these Council grave robbers have that we could use? she asked him.
They will look as if they are of the People, but they will not be. Probably
mostly students and apprentices with only a couple of experienced elders. Still,
somewhere close and probably hidden from view they will have some of the
machines of Council. They will also have supplies and will be unable to do as
much to us for getting them as even Roaring Bull was.