The Dead Man's Doll Read Online Free PDF Page A

along the beach. Crisscrossing timbers. Were they the source of the smoke? Bonfires? It took him a moment to realize that they had once, not long ago, been lodges.
    A hot rush flooded his veins as he glanced down at Gausep. “Was that your village?”
    Gausep pointed to the wooden figurine in the grave. “She did it.”
    As though a huge hand had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart, Asson whispered, “There are always survivors. You must have relatives somewhere. We’ll find them. I promise you. We won’t stop looking until we find your relatives.”
    Gausep tipped his face up to stare at Asson, and the moonlight cast the shadow of his hooked nose across his cheek. “You’re
really
not smart for an elder.”
    Gausep took a circuitous, playful route through the leaves, splashing them with his hands as he walked back to stand looking down into the grave. He tilted his head. “I followed her tracks that night. I don’t know why. I just…I thought she knew the way.”
    The moon vanished behind a cloud, and the shore went dark. Asson suddenly felt tired, so tired. He
wasn’t
very smart for an elder. Dear gods. He walked toward Gausep. The old leaves piled in the low spots rose to his knees. He slogged through them, stepping high…until his foot struck something that was neither rock nor earth.
    Asson knelt to pull the leaves away. In the darkness, he knew only that it was flesh.
    Gausep let out a sharp cry and broke into a run, dashing down to the surf, where he stood facing the ocean. He lifted his arms and started waving them. “Here! I’m over here!”
    When the moonlight once again washed over the ground, Asson saw the small body that lay buried in the leaves. He couldn’t move. His muscles seemed to have frozen. Monstrous grief filled his chest. He lifted his eyes to the chestnut and watched the branches swaying in the wind.
    From the depths of the darkness, two ghostly people appeared, a woman and a warrior. One alive. One dead.
    The woman had eyes that would not stop rolling, mad eyes. She shouted, “You’re in this tree. I know you are. Come out right now!”
    After the woman placed the surrogate body of Madyrut, dressed in its yellow dress, into the hole, she tore at her hair and screamed. Then she threw herself across the figurine, clawing at it.
    The warrior looked at the doll with brilliant quartz crystal eyes.
Don’t do this, Madyrut. I beg you. Come with me? It wasn’t your fault.
    The images faded.
    Asson murmured, “I don’t understand, Madyrut.”
    His gaze drifted to where Gausep stood looking out to sea with his whole heart in his eyes.
    Asson reached down, slipped his arms beneath the frozen body, and carried the child to the grave. As he walked, he noticed that the boy’s skull had been crushed by the blow of a club. This spot near the chestnut was a good four hundred hand-lengths from the village. The child must have kept crawling for as long as he could, trying to get away from the enemy warriors.
    Gently, Asson placed the little boy in the hole beside the wooden figurine, where they could keep each other warm, and scooped cold earth over them, filling the hole again. As he did so, he sang the Death Song of his People, praying both the boy and Madyrut to the afterlife, begging to their animal friends to come and escort them along the Star Road.
    When he’d finished, he said, “Is this why you called me here, Madyrut? Not for yourself, but to help the boy? Did you see him following you that night?”
    I killed him.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter now. The young man who loves you is right. You must go with him, or you will be lost forev—”
    Gausep shouted:
    â€œLook! Look!”
    As hollow as a punky old log, Asson stood up and walked down to the shore to stand beside Gausep. The boy’s face appeared luminous in the sparkles of light reflecting from the