Time of the Eagle by Sherryl Jordan Page B

filthy Shinali that draw the soldiers out here to our lands, like wounded dogs tempting out the wolves. If the high chieftain in the stone city found the Shinali he hunts for, he’d stop attacking us!”
    â€œThe Shinali dogs asked for their trouble!” cried someone else. “Like weak pups they suckled the Navoran wolves, and now they pay the price for their stupidity! But we pay it, too! Us, and allthe Igaal tribes, and the Hena—we all suffer, because of the Shinali fools! I say we kill the witch. Tie her to a stake out in the desert, and let the Navoran soldiers find her. Then they’d find all her people, and have all the slaves they want, and we’d be left in peace.”
    Mudiwar banged his stick on the ground again, but no one took any notice. The whole tribe was in an uproar, and the sound of their hatred toward me was overwhelming. Terrified, I thought I would be torn to pieces, there and then. But Ramakoda raised his arms and stood beside his father, and there was quiet.
    â€œIgaal!” Ramakoda cried. “My people! This talk is not worthy of you! Let me ask you a thing. Which tribe of us, of the whole Igaal nation, is without fault? Which tribe has all people who are wise, who are strong in truth, who walk in honor with the gods? Which tribe has no thief, no liar, no deceiver, no breaker of the laws? Tell me—which tribe?”
    He glared on them, was tall and fierce and strong. Quietly, but clearly so all could hear, he went on, “There is no such tribe. Every tribe of us, every clan, every family, has good and bad. And the Navorans are the same. And the Shinali. I say that this Shinali woman with us now—this healer, this friend to me, my nazdar kinswoman—she is a good Shinali. I am proud that she healed me, for she healed me well. I am proud that she heals my daughter, for Kimiwe is a new child now. And I will be proud to see my father open up this healing tent, and let this Shinali healer do her work inside. If any of you do not agree to let her touch your kin, then speak now, and you may go in and get your kin, and bring them out and take them to your own tents. Then tomorrow, or after a few tomorrows, you can set them free to flywith the birds. But let us give some of them a chance at life.”
    There was total silence.
    Ramakoda bent his head to his father, and stepped back.
    Mudiwar coughed a little and said, “Before I saw the work of this Shinali healer, I spoke a word. Now I speak another word: she is to help my people in this tent. She will be given all that she needs, and you will do anything she asks of you. And Gunateeta will pray to the gods for us all.”
    There was a fluttering of hands as people covered their mouths in shock. Some cried out in astonishment and fear. Then Gunateeta spoke.
    â€œMy chieftain,” she said, “you cast me off as healer, so I will take you at your word. Never again ask for my help. Never ask for my advice. Never ask for my prayers. And when the Shinali witch has gone, never ask for my forgiveness.”
    Then she hobbled away, her stained robes billowing about her, to her own small tent on the edge of the funeral ground.
    Disappointment swept over me, that I would not soon be going home, after all. Despite Ramakoda’s fine talk, I was about to argue, to say I needed to return to my own tribe, when someone moaned from inside the tent. An awful moan it was, full of desperation and pleading and pain; and my heart melted, and I knew I could not go.
    â€œI will help,” I said to Mudiwar, “but I need someone to work with me. May Chimaki help?”
    â€œShe may,” said Mudiwar. “And Ramakoda, since he is your nazdar brother and is responsible for you. May Shimit also be with you, Shinali woman.”
    I looked at Ramakoda and was surprised to see him smiling.“So, the sick are in our hands,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to turn healer this day. I hope you realize