size, Victoria might have likened it to a hallway leading into a sitting room, but the "hallway" was scarcely taller than a man.
The two men dismounted. Ata'halne turned to help her down, but she slid off the horse's back with little trouble. Naalnish led them up to the building's entrance. A woven blanket covered the opening, its pattern full of squares and triangles in white and black and red. Victoria had never seen a blanket like it, even among the British aristocracy. How these primitive people could produce such work was beyond her.
"The singer is inside," Naalnish said. "He is the one that can help you. He may not help you, and if he does not, you must leave at once. You will bring evil to us all if you do not."
Victoria nodded. "Even if he chooses not to, I thank you for your help."
The Indian looked uncomfortable. He gave a quick nod and pulled the blanket aside. Victoria stepped through the doorway into the darkness beyond. Smoke swirled around her, burning her eyes and throat. She tried to hold in the coughs that rose up in her chest but failed. Covering her mouth with her hand, she took a painful breath.
Naalnish placed a hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to go farther in. She took a few more steps and entered a small, circular room. Sunlight streamed in through holes in the walls and roof, forming smoky rays that cut across the shadows. The remains of a fire smoldered in a circular pit. Sitting on the far side of it was the dim figure of a man. She watched him for a moment, unsure if his eyes were open or not. Naalnish slipped into the room behind her, taking a seat to the man's right. He motioned for her to sit opposite them. She nodded and eased herself into the packed earth.
Victoria sat in the darkness watching the two Indians. She wondered why Ata'halne did not follow them inside, but did not think it would be polite to ask. Naalnish was looking at the elderly man, who hadn't moved since they first entered. After a few moments of silence, Naalnish spoke softly in the Indian tongue. The singer turned his head to listen.
"I have told him your name," Naalnish said to her, "and why you have come."
The old man's eyes glittered in the dim light. He spoke in a voice of dry leaves and wind, but it filled the small room with authority.
"He feels shame for the actions of this woman who has injured you," Naalnish said. "He says no Dine should behave in such ways."
"Oh, he shouldn't feel sorry for that," Victoria said. "Tell him it is not his fault."
Naalnish relayed her words to the singer, who replied without taking his eyes off her. "He says this woman should have known better than to act as she did. We do not wish for any fight with your people."
Victoria hesitated, not sure how to respond. "Not everyone is a good person," she finally said. "Perhaps this woman is just given to hurting others."
"It is true," the old man said through Naalnish. "But you did not come here to speak of good and evil in men. You came for help, and I will give it."
A smile spread across Victoria's face. "Thank you, sir."
The singer held up his hand. "Before I start, you must promise to only speak of this when you need. When you speak of this evil, it hears. Naalnish put himself in danger by speaking of it to you. Those who walk the Witchery Way silence talk of them, and their ears are sharp. What is more, after learning these things, you may want this power for yourself. It is believed that one who knows much of the Witchery Way must walk that path."
"You know much," Victoria said, "and you are not an evil man."
"Are you certain?" The light caught the old man's eye in a queer gleam, and a chill skittered up Victoria's spine.
A grin deepened his wrinkles. "Yes, you are right. I know more than I could tell you in a hundred nights, and yet I know little of the Holy People and all their ways. I know also of the Witchery Way, and it has not corrupted me. I will tell you enough so you may fight this woman that seeks to do evil to you.
"The Witchery Way is a very old path given to us by First Man and First Woman. We do not