Warbird by Jennifer Maruno Read Free Book Online

answered, and the doctor laughed.
    â€œThe Iroquois don’t understand birch,” the doctor said. “He says they use elm for their canoes, which makes them heavy and slow.”
    The man spoke to Tsiko, who lifted a torch from the fire close by as the man picked up a wooden bowl. Etienne watched the man pour the sticky substance from the bowl on to the bark and melt it with the torch. “You go,” Tsiko said with a wave. “I’ll stay to help.”
    Etienne followed the doctor to the largest longhouse. Animal skins stretched across circular frames resting against its walls. Fish hung head down from poles in the shade of the building. The man who was working at digging out a log nearby didn’t seem to notice the powerful raw smell that made Etienne cover his nose.
    From the shade, an elderly woman, her long single braid tinged with grey, watched them approach. She signalled the woman at her side to help her rise.
    â€œThis is Tsiko’s grandmother,” the doctor told Etienne. He gave her a small nod. “She is head of the Deer Clan.”
    The old woman smelled like freshly cut grass. When she spoke, her voice murmured like a stream running across pebbles. Despite her frailty, Etienne sensed her importance.
    â€œIt was a good day to come,” the doctor translated asshe spoke. “Today the villagers celebrate the first cobs of corn. We have been invited to attend the feast.”
    The doctor spoke with the woman again then turned to Etienne. “I must deliver letters to Father Daniel before visiting the medicine man. Wait here.”
    Etienne drew his tin from his pocket and held it flat on the palm of his hand towards her.
    The woman took the tin into her gnarled fingers and pried it open. Her eyes sparkled with interest as she poked about its contents. She gestured for Etienne to enter her dwelling.
    Furs, blankets and articles of clothing scattered the platforms that ran along the inside walls of the long house. There was an odd smell in the bark house, not unpleasant, but different. Soon Etienne’s nose deciphered the smells of grass, tobacco and dog.
    Two children peered from one of the platforms above his head. They pointed and giggled.
    Etienne looked up, smiled and waved. Weapons, clothing and skins dangled beneath the soot-coated ceiling. The vaulted roof reminded him of the chicken-roosts.
    Tsiko’s grandmother beckoned Etienne to a spot below one of the sleeping platforms. She kneeled and swept aside feathers and bits of fur on the cool earth floor. Her fingers hooked around the corners of a large flat lid of what appeared to be a chest, sunk into the ground. From it she removed a flat buckskin parcel. She put it to one side then lowered the small tin into the chest and closed the lid. She picked up the object, unfolded the skin and held it out.
    Etienne gasped. It was a small drum with a fur-tipped stick.
    The woman gestured for him to take it.
    Etienne took the stick. He tapped the tight skin surface, making a light sound.
    Tsiko’s grandmother gestured again.
    Etienne took the drum. It was as light as the bright yellow feathers hanging from it. He banged it. This time it made a deep, hollow sound.
    The old woman smiled.
    A young woman brushed past them and drew apart the smouldering logs of the fires down the middle of the lodge. She raked their ashes until they were smooth. Etienne’s eyes smarted from the smoke.
    More women entered, carrying wood. They built a large fire in the centre of the lodge.
    Etienne turned when an elderly man, his mouth framed in deep seams, shouted from the doorway. His words brought all sorts of people inside. Old men and women carrying babies thronged to the lower platforms. Tsiko joined those that climbed the scaffolding.
    The doctor arrived in the doorway carrying a large leather sack. He waved Etienne over to a seat on a log. Etienne re-wrapped the drum. He gestured to a lidded basket on the floor. The woman