ght lips she said, "Tell me the truth, Doctor. Do you think
he'll get better?"

"One man in four survives such a wound, Miss Hale."

Nancy's shoulders slumped. This man could do nothing more.

"Good night, then, Dr. Surrey."

Back in the bedroom, Nancy could hear the crackling that was Auguste's
breathing, as blood bubbled in his pierced lung. His face beeswax-yellow
in the candlelight, he lay under the canopy of Elysee's four-poster,
covered to his chest by a quilt. His arms lay stretched out on either
side, his fingers slightly curled.

_His breathing is so noisy, at least we'll know when he stops._

Nancy felt as if she herself were being swept away on a black tide of
sorrow.

Elysee, sitting by the bed staring into his grandson's face, looked
almost as near death as Auguste. Guichard stood behind him, a clawlike
hand perched on his master's shoulder.

Nicole, her eyes round and dark with suffering, asked, "What can we do
for him?"

Nancy said, "The doctor says it's up to Auguste and God."

Elysee grunted. "Where was God when this happened?"

If Auguste were conscious, Nancy thought, he would be asking Earthmaker
for help. In the camps of the British Band Nancy had never seen Auguste
give up on a sick or wounded person. He had applied his remedies, gone
into his trance, danced and chanted to summon the aid of his spirit
helpers, wrestled with the hurt till either the man's soul left his body
or the healing was well begun. At first his practices had seemed foolish
and savage to her. But Auguste had done his work with such devotion that
she came, watching him, to love him all the more. And, out of love, to
respect what he did.

_But he's not the only one who practices that calling._

Maybe that was what he needed now. One of his own people to call on the
spirits for him.

If only Auguste were awake, he could tell her what to do.

Redbird had helped Auguste with his work.

She remembered the last time she had seen Redbird, small, emaciated,
holding the broken body of Floating Lily in her arms. Redbird was
probably more in need of help than able to give it.

And yet, Nancy had seen that she had a marvelous knowledge of healing.
Besides, she had told Nancy that she wanted to be a shaman herself, like
White Bear and Owl Carver.

It would be better to go to Redbird than sit here and watch Auguste die.

"I'm going to his people," Nancy said. "To find someone I think can help
him."

"No Sauk will be