“There is a small encampment a day’s walk to the south. That is where the traka-ta were born, that is where they will always return.”
“And you brought birds from Lasta-ah with you, so you can send messages home.”
Klipta-ak squirmed, but said, “Yes.”
Alex almost heaved a sigh of relief. His plan might work.
“I want you to write a message to Draka-ak the Younger.”
“Saying what?” Klipta-ak asked, completely unsure of where this was going.
“I want you to tell him the truth. That you attacked us, killed some of our villagers and we hunted you down and defeated you. I want you to tell him who is still alive and that we are caring for them.”
Klipta-ak nodded, as though memorizing instructions he did not understand.
“Then tell him that if he agrees this aggression between us is over, I will let all of you go home.”
Both Klipta-ak and Sekun-ak’s head snapped around at the same moment. Neither spoke, but Alex could see the probing questions on both their faces.
Alex leaned forward, so his face was close to Klipta-ak’s. “When I saw what you did to us—killing my friends and burning their bodies—I told myself that I would do the same to each of you when I found you.”
Alex leaned back and turned to Sekun-ak, switching to the language of the Winten-ah. “But that only means that this will go on and on. If we kill them, we feel better for a time, then that feeling passes. Then, in another solstice, or three solstices, another group of warriors from Lasta-ah shows up. Maybe they learned their lesson from this time. Now that they know we are not easy to kill, maybe they come up with a different strategy, or send hundreds of men instead of a few dozen.”
Sekun-ak couldn’t stop himself. “That is the way it has always been. If they attack and kill us, we do the same to them.”
“When they come back, they will be better prepared. They will kill more Winten-ah. Maybe it is you or me, maybe it is Kinta-eh or Senta-eh. It doesn’t matter who it is. We know it will be someone. I want to do it differently. I don’t look at it as saving the lives of the Lasta-ah. I look at it as saving those of us who would die in the future.”
Sekun-ak leaned back in his chair, contemplating this idea. Alex could see it was a new concept, which was always difficult to get people to accept. Sekun-ak was not most people. There was a reason he was the chief of the Winten-ah.
“I see the wisdom of your words. We have to give up our vengeance to save the lives of those who would die.”
“Exactly,” Alex said, then switched back to the universal language.
“I will not be able to read what you write, so I will have to trust you. But if you betray me, I can promise it will end badly for you.”
Klipta-ak blinked, nearly unable to believe his good fortune. It was obvious that until that moment, he had thought he was a dead man walking.
“I will not betray you, but I do not have a way to write the message or get it to our traka-ta.”
“Leave that to me. How many warriors do you have back at the encampment with the birds?”
“We built a small house in the trees to keep the birds and two men. They are all that is there.”
Alex searched his face, running his mental lie detector.
“You will lead me there tomorrow. If there are more than two men there, we will kill them, then bring you back here and you will watch all your warriors put to the sword and burned. Do you want to change your answer?”
Immediately, Klipta-ak said, “No. There are only two men there.”
“Memorize who of your men is still alive. We will leave for your encampment before first light.”
Klipta-ak saw that he was dismissed and stood as if in a daze. He walked back to the enclosure, talking to his men.
Sekun-ak watched him for a moment, then said, “He might be saying, ‘Hold on, don’t die. They’re going to let us go, then we can kill them.’”
Alex smiled. “I don’t know why everyone thinks you have no sense of humor. You’re the funniest chief I know. And I know at least two or three others.”
Sekun-ak lowered his voice and said, “Why did you tell him we will not be able to understand his message? Will Harta-ak not be able to understand it?”
Alex’s smile broadened. “Of course he will. Someone from my time said, ‘Trust, but verify.’ This will be my way of verifying.”
The next morning, Alex, Senta-eh, Harta-ak and four other armed warriors rode away from Winten-ah with Klipta-ak. Alex and the warriors rode on the tall, beautiful horses, while they put Klipta-ak on Reggie’s Tonton-ah shaggy pony.
Alex had dressed Harta-ak as a typical Winten-ah and told him not to speak around Klipta-ak.
Klipta-ak had regained some of his confidence and said, “I guess I will not outrun you on this fine steed.”
“That’s the idea,” Alex agreed.
Klipta-ak was the only one who knew where their encampment was, so he led the party, switching unerringly from one game trail to another, leading through woods, across streams, up and down hills and around small mountains.
They did not bother to hobble Klipta-ak, but Alex noticed that Senta-eh rode with her bow comfortably in front of her.
For his sake, I hope he doesn’t make a run for it. He’d never make a third step.
Klipta-ak had been purposefully vague about exactly where the encampment was, but in midafternoon, he held his hand up to stop the caravan. He put a hand to his throat, tipped his head back and loosed a call that sounded exactly like the traka-ta. A moment later, an identical answering call came from up ahead.
Alex laid a hand on Klipta-ak’s pony, then moved his own horse past him. He came around a bend in the trail and saw two men
