Chapter 32: Shadow Clan's Account
Shadow Clan's camp lay hidden in the western woodlands. Without a guide, outsiders would struggle to find it. By the time Violet arrived, it was mid-morning. The fog had not yet lifted. Water droplets hung from the tips of branches, dripping onto her shoulders. Cool.
This time she wore the new Gray Rock hide robe.
Not because she had resolved anything. The old cloak had gotten soaked in yesterday's rain and hadn't dried yet. She stood at the camp entrance and waited for a child to go in and announce her. A long wait. Finally the shaman emerged. He wore a dark brown robe, bone strings hung thick around his neck, clacking as he walked.
"You came again." He said. No welcome in his voice. No refusal either.
"I came."
"Not here to eavesdrop this time?"
Violet's fingers tightened briefly. He knew. She didn't know how he knew, but Shadow Clan was skilled with herbs and skilled with tracking. Perhaps when she had crouched outside the camp to "tie her bootlaces," she had already been spotted.
"No." She said. "This time I'm here to talk business."
The shaman stared at her for a few seconds, then stepped aside and opened a path. "Come in."
The camp was livelier than last time. Someone was brewing medicine. Someone was drying pelts. Several children chased a lame wild rabbit back and forth. Violet followed the shaman to the fire pit at the center of camp and sat down.
"Speak."
"At the last assembly, you wanted thirty percent of the medicine. I gave twenty."
"You said twenty percent was enough to buy ten years of herb seeds." The shaman's tone was flat. Impossible to tell if he was angry or indifferent.
"It is enough. But what you want isn't seeds."
The shaman's hand paused. He was adding firewood to the pit. A dried branch hung in midair.
"You know what I want?"
"You want Shadow Clan to be seen. The thirty percent medicine was a pretense. You wanted the other tribes to know—Shadow Clan is here too."
The firewood in the pit crackled. The shaman tossed the branch in. Flames leaped up and licked the bottom of the pot. He didn't deny it. Didn't admit it. Silent for a long time.
"Have you ever seen Shadow Clan's graves?" He asked suddenly.
Violet shook her head.
"Shadow Clan isn't good at fighting. But every year we bury as many dead as any other tribe. Death by sickness. Death by poison. Death by beast. We save people. But we can't save everyone. Those we can't save are buried in these woods. Graves face east. Toward Water City."
He grabbed a handful of earth and scattered it into the fire pit. The soil landed on the flames and sent up a plume of smoke.
"My father is buried here. My grandfather buried here. My great-grandfather buried here. Shadow Clan has lived in these woods for eight generations. Eight generations, and no one has walked out. Other tribes look down on us. Call us 'pretenders hiding in the woods playing at gods and ghosts.' You think I wanted thirty percent of the medicine? I wanted Shadow Clan to walk out of these woods with their spines straight."
Violet said nothing. She pulled the small notebook from inside her coat and opened to the page marked "Shadow Clan." Written there: Afraid of losing face. Not unwilling to fight.
She looked at it a long moment. Closed the notebook.
"I'll help you."
"How?"
"When the beast tide comes, send your people. No need to fight. No need to kill wolves. Do what you do best. Save lives."
The shaman stared at her. "Save whose lives?"
"The wounded. Frost Claw. Frost Wolf. Ironwood. Silver Spring. Ice Wolf Clan. Whoever is wounded, Shadow Clan is the first to rush up and save them. Not hiding at the back. Rushing to the front to save."
"What's so brave about rushing to save people?"
"Saving people doesn't take skill. It takes guts. Others kill wolves at the front. Shadow Clan saves their lives at the back. When it's over, who remembers how many wolves anyone killed? But the ones saved will remember who dragged them out of a pile of corpses."
The shaman's lips moved. He didn't speak. He lowered his head and looked into the fire pit.
"Shadow Clan fears death." He said.
"Who doesn't?"
"They fear it more than others."
"Fear is fine. But fear so much you don't dare leave—then you truly never leave."
The fire burned hotter. Water in the pot came to a boil, bubbling and gurgling. The shaman stood and took two rough clay bowls from the side. Ladled hot water into each and handed one to Violet.
"Drink."
Violet took the bowl. The water was scalding. She blew on it and took a sip. Slightly bitter, but a sweetness followed. The aftertaste was honeyed.
"What is this?"
"Herb blend. You haven't been sleeping well."
Violet's fingers tightened. "How do you know?"
"Those dark marks beneath your eyes. Weren't there last time. Are there now. You didn't sleep last night. Or you slept but dreamed. Woke from the dreams and couldn't fall back."
Violet said nothing. She lowered her head and looked at the brown water in the bowl.
"Finish it." The shaman said. "This bowl of water will let you sleep well tonight."
"No charge?"
"No charge. Shadow Clan isn't worth much. But water is worth something. The water you gave Shadow Clan is sweeter than the water you brought from Silver Spring. You think we don't know? Shadow Clan knew from the first sip. That sweetness isn't the water's sweetness. It's you."
Violet drained the bowl. She set it on the ground and stood.
"Shaman."
"Yes."
"Before the beast tide, I'll come again."
"To do what?"
"To see if Shadow Clan dares to walk out of these woods."
The shaman stared at her. He picked up the bowl and wiped it on his robe.
"You will see it."
Violet turned and walked away. After a few steps, she stopped. Didn't look back.
"My father was poisoned to death. My grandfather too. Shadow Clan's lifespans are short because of the toxic fog in these woods. Eight generations. None have lived past sixty."
Violet's fingers clenched at her sides.
"Then I'll help you find an antidote."
"You're not a healer."
"I'm not. But I can calculate accounts. Whoever has the antidote, I'll trade half a year of Water City's profits after the beast tide for it."
The shaman said nothing. Violet walked out of the Shadow Clan camp. The fog had lifted. Sunlight leaked through the branches and fell on her. The new Gray Rock hide robe soaked up the sun's heat. Warm.
She looked down at the robe.
Gray. No markings. A small piece of soft leather sewn at the collar. She had worn it today. Not because she didn't want to wear the old one. The old one was wet. But as she wore it, she found it warm.
She pulled out the notebook and drew a horizontal line through the row marked "Shadow Clan."
Crossed out.
Three left.
Ironwood's "fear of not being worth the price." Ice Wolf Clan's "wanting face." Silver Spring's "not wanting to lose again."
Tomorrow, to Ironwood.
She quickened her pace, walking back toward Water City. From far off she saw someone standing on the city wall. Leon. He didn't wave. Didn't call out. Just stood there, watching her direction.
She didn't stop. Didn't speed up. She just walked. Walked back to the city. Walked up the wall. Stood beside him.
"Back?" He asked.
"Back."
"Shadow Clan agreed to send people?"
"Agreed. Not to fight. To save lives."
Leon looked at her. "You've even thought out how they'll save people?"
"Saving people doesn't take planning. Whoever is wounded, whoever rushes up to save them. The hard part isn't the saving. It's making the people doing the saving dare to rush up."
The wind blew from the west and loosened her hair. Leon reached out to brush it back. His hand stopped halfway. Hovered beside her ear. Hesitated. Pulled back.
Violet saw it. She said nothing.
The two of them stood on the wall, watching the western horizon. The Shadow Clan woods were only a dark green line at the edge of the sky. The fog had lifted, but the woods remained.
"Leon."
"Yes."
"I wore the new robe today."
"I saw."
"You made it?"
"I had someone make it. Gray Rock Tribe's best leather."
Violet lowered her head and touched the soft leather at the collar. Lambskin. Felt like human skin.
"Thank you."
Leon said nothing. The wind blew again. This time, he didn't reach out.
The two of them stood watching the western woods, watching the sun sink bit by bit. The clouds at the horizon burned orange-red, as if on fire.
In the distance, the sound of stones being moved from the east side of the city still rang out. The wall had grown a little taller.
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End of Chapter Thirty-Two
Shadow Clan's account can't be repaid with water. Only with "being seen." Violet didn't force them to fight. She let them save lives. Saving lives takes more courage than taking them. But after the saving is done, no one will dare call them "pretenders of gods and ghosts." The shaman gave her a bowl of sleep-aiding herbs and said, "This bowl of water will let you sleep well tonight." She drank it. But she knows tonight she'll still wake. Not because of dreams. Because tomorrow there are still three accounts not yet crossed out.