Calligan saw his eyes flick briefly to the knife, and his smile widened. “I was a Navy SEAL, did you know that?” he asked conversationally. “They train the SEALs right. Missed ’Nam, though. I always felt kind of cheated. I’d have enjoyed it.”

He circled a little, and made a brief feint to the right. David saw immediately what he was up to; he wanted to get David away from Jennie.

So instead of moving, he simply pivoted, watching Calligan’s eyes, and trying to think if there was anything within reach that he could use for a weapon.

Kestrel backed up another pace, but she didn’t think a simple tactic like that was going to work for much longer. It might look as if she could back up forever across this wasteland, but this was his wasteland, and he could manipulate it in any way he chose. Sooner or later he was going to get tired of this.

Oh, Ancestor, if only I could call you back to me!

“Daughter—” said a deep voice just behind her, suddenly; so suddenly that it made her jump. Something materialized at her side, a bright presence in the darkness.

She glanced to her right, and almost sobbed with relief.

Another Osage stood beside her, his costume dating from the same ancient days as the Evil One. Like his, all the decorations on it were non-European; shells, quills, claws, teeth—but this man wore proper war-paint, a mussel-shell torque. And like Kestrel, he wore eagle feathers; both the under-tail covert of the Tzi-sho, on the left, and the hard tail-feather of the Hunkah, on the right.

There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind who this was, not when she sensed an immense power and strength in him, and an enormous confidence.

“Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta,” she said, with a little nod of respect, and a smile of relief. “Ancestor. You are very welcome here!”

As she spoke, she moved back and to the side, instinctively placing herself shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He smiled back at her, and some of that power and strength flowed into her, erasing some of her blind terror.

But when she looked back at their enemy, the Evil One did not seem to be any less confident. He looked Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta up and down, contemptuously. “One, old and brittle,” he said with scorn, “and one, green and with no experience. Hardly a challenge at all.”

“So?” Watches-Over-The-Land said mildly. “But you are hardly younger than I.”

Kestrel felt a third presence join her and Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta; a moment later, Mooncrow stood at her left shoulder. He looked very much like Watches-Over-The-Land, except that the decorations on his ritual clothing, like hers, boasted the additions of ribbon- and beadwork.

The Evil One snorted. “Even three-to-one you cannot defeat me!” he laughed. “You, old fool—” he continued, pointing at Kestrel’s Ancestor, “—should have warned them! You had the Little Old Men of all the gentes beside you when you bested me last! You have only these two at your side now! And I—”