Ivory and Bone(68)

I don’t ask. Today is not a day for talking. With each step, the urgency to reach your family grows. There will be time to talk later. For now, I focus on my footing and ensure you don’t have to help me again.

It isn’t long before we reach the highest point of the cliff and start to descend. The terrain drops down into a pass between two rocky slopes, both of which are streaked with flows of water, runoff from what has again become torrential rain.

The trail is little more than a ledge of hanging boulders and rocks, suspended from the wall on our left. To the right, a drop-off plunges to a ravine filled with rushing water. It is a long way down—at least the height of three men, standing on each other’s shoulders.

The slabs we cross are wet and slick with sleet. Once—then a second time—you stumble, but you right yourself before I have the chance to come to your aid. You plod on, without even a glance back at me.

My stomach tightens. If one of us were to get hurt—if one of us were unable to keep walking—the other would have to leave them here, alone on these cold, wet rocks. We don’t discuss the danger, but our progress slows as we take more care to place our feet.

Gradually, the trail descends to the floor of the ravine, until we are walking alongside the rapids. In places, the trail and the river merge, and we have to scramble over boulders surrounded by rushing water.

Finally, the trail winds down to the base of the cliff. It levels and broadens, becoming a corridor that cuts through two wide swaths of trees.

Through the gray rain, I spot a valley that opens at the foot of the path. This is a view I recognize. We hurry now that the ground is flatter. The trees end abruptly, yielding to a clearing. Below us stands a circle of huts—your camp.

In your meeting place, the elders of your clan are gathered under the roof. They sit in a tight circle, speaking in hushed tones. Are they planning their defense? Morsk is among them, and when he sees me he gets to his feet, but he doesn’t speak. Instead, he gives me a long, critical stare, his eyes full of contempt. He watches me as I follow you to Chev’s door.

I’m not sure if Morsk is reacting to his broken betrothal to Seeri, or to the threat of an attack on your clan. Maybe, like you, he feels that nothing good has ever come from contact with the Manu.

We find Chev in his hut with Yano and Ela, who stop their chanted prayers when we enter. From the look in Chev’s eyes, I’d say he has been awake all night, waiting for you. Those tired eyes shift to me, and for a rare moment I think I can read your brother’s expression. His usual stoic facade breaks. He was not expecting me.

“Where did you find him?” he asks you.

“He was out on the water last night, half dead with cold and exhaustion—”

“Last night?”

“At the height of the storm. He came to warn us.”

Your brother turns to me and I can see he’s sizing me up, weighing all he knows of me to decide if he should trust me.

I’d been your clan’s hero once, when I killed the cat. That was not long ago. But since then, I’d defended Lo when it was revealed that she was plotting to kill him. Could he wonder if I might be conspiring with her? If I am here to give you false information?

His attention slides from my face to yours. He doesn’t speak, but he is asking you. This will be your decision to make.

No words. Just a nod of your head.

“Well then,” your brother says, getting to his feet. “Thank you for bringing a warning. I’m saddened to hear that Shava’s story was all true. I had hoped that somehow—”

“I had hoped so, too, but now I know those were false hopes.”

I tell Chev everything I’ve already told you—the number of kayaks I’d seen launch from Lo’s camp, the rough weather on the sea, and the place I’d seen their boats sheltering from the storm.

A plan is made. Chev decides that Seeri will take Lees away from camp to protect the both of them. He tries to force you to go as well, but you won’t have it. Perhaps he realizes that your skills with a spear are worth having around; perhaps he knows you are too stubborn to ever follow his orders—it doesn’t matter. He lets you stay.

Moments later, all the members of the clan have been assembled under the roof in the meeting place. With the roar of rain and the clatter of sleet against the canopy over our heads, a small voice inside me silently thanks Morsk for his handiwork and the brief relief it offers from the storm.

Everyone listens as Chev outlines his plan. Anyone who wishes to help defend the camp is welcome, but no one will be forced. Those who are injured or otherwise unable to fight are encouraged to stay behind and keep the children out of sight. The rest of us will head to the water and climb the low cliffs that overlook the beach where Lo’s clan is most likely to land. We will take weapons, but Chev warns against using them. “Only defensively,” he says. “These are not strangers. They are our own clan, our own people.”

I flinch at Chev’s words, remembering Lo’s: A false leader, a wedge . . . they go to remove these things. They are coming to remove Chev—to kill him—and to kill you and your family, too.

I hope that Chev is right, and bloodshed can be avoided. But if he is wrong, I am not part of Chev’s clan. He is not my High Elder, and I am not obligated to follow his rules.

The cliffs rise to both the north and south of the beach. Chev decides to position himself on the cliff to the north, where the view is best, allowing only you and me to accompany him. The rest of your clan who have come to fight—sixteen in all—split into two groups. Half follow Morsk up the cliffs to the south while the others guard the paths that lead up to these two lookout points. If someone tries to get to Chev, they will have to fight just to get to the trail.