People of the Mist (16 page)

 
          
Like
a puffer fish losing water, Sun Conch wilted to the ground. Her cape spread
around her.

 
          
Panther
finished polishing his shell, and stood. “I’m going to sleep now-, girl. As you
value your life, don’t bother me. Oh, and I’d push off before sunrise. The
water is quietest at that time of day.”

 
          
Panther
left her there, looking sad, and ducked inside his house. He laid the shell on
his bed, and eased the loose thatch aside. Slipping out into the darkness, he
replaced the thatch and glided into the woods. In the shadow of an old oak he
slithered down under the leaves, sighed, and tried to sleep.

 
          
But
the girl’s words kept haunting him: “/’// see it through his eyes, live it with
him. Wondering how, and why, a man could love a woman with all of his heart-and
then be condemned for her murder! How would you feel, Elder, if it happened to
you ?”

 
          
Why
had he been so hard on her? Because she had seen into his soul? Understood his
pain, and shame?

 
          
Panther
growled to himself. His thoughts chased themselves around and around.

 
          
Panther
lay under the leaves until long after the morning’s light had grayed the skies,
giving young Sun Conch more than enough time to paddle off for the Western
Shore. He listened to the birds, and studied the drifting puffs of cloud.
Finally, he brushed the leaves away and forced his rickety bones to rise.

 
          
When
he strolled into his house clearing, Sun Conch was kneeling before the smoking
fire pit, her head bowed.

 
          
He
bellowed, “What are you doing here?”

 
          
Sun
Conch turned, and Panther could see courage in every line of her round face.
Long black hair draped her chest. “I thought about it all night, Elder. You are
right. If a thing is truly just, then a person must be willing to do whatever
is necessary to assure it.” She looked at him with clear eyes. “If you will
speak for High Fox, I will give myself to you, for… for whatever you wish to do
with me.”

 
          
Panther
experienced the oddest sensation, as if his heart had just dropped through his
stomach.

 
          
Nine
Killer sat in the middle room of Hunting Hawk’s long house the interior lit by
a crackling fire that sent sparks and thin tendrils of smoke up toward the
domed ceiling. Dancing yellow light cast shadows on the support poles, the
hanging baskets, braids of corncobs, sacks of herbs, and the people who sat
around the fire.

 
          
The
crawling sense of premonition in Nine Killer’s gut disturbed his digestion of
the excellent corn and duck he’d just eaten. Red Knot’s death had precipitated
a disaster that he was just beginning to grasp. But which of the participants
was tugging the fragile weaving of his life apart?

 
          
Hunting
Hawk sat in her usual place on the mat behind the fire. She leaned forward,
watching the leaping flames, her dark eyes pensive. Had her once-sharp mind
lost its clarity of purpose? Had she misjudged the needs and interests of Flat
Pearl Village?

 
          
To
her left, in the place of honor, Copper Thunder sat like an oiled serpent,
curiously calm at the murder of his betrothed.

 
          
Nine
Killer surreptitiously studied the Great Tayac. He almost looked amused by the
sudden uncertainty that plagued Greenstone Clan. Why? What was his purpose
here?

 
          
To
Hunting Hawk’s right sat Shell Comb, her beautiful features barely hiding her
distress. Her vehement insistence that Winged Blackbird and his warriors had
killed Red Knot bothered Nine Killer.

 
          
He
had never trusted himself when it came to Shell Comb. Her beauty always left
him off balance, plagued by a desire for her which he knew was lethal. Of all
the terrible deeds humans could commit, incest was the most dreaded and
loathsome. Tall and willowy though Shell Comb might be, she remained his
cousin. They were both Greenstone Clan, and such a mating would be incestuous
in the eyes of his people. The punishment for such a crime would be immediate
and agonizing death. Nine Killer’s family would probably be rounded up, and
burned with him, including his sister, Rosebud, her daughter, White Otter, and
the rest of the children. The idea was that only burning purified the insult to
the gods, and their mortal descendants. To insure that the gods were placated,
those who engaged in incest were burned slowly, the flesh seared from their
bones so that their screams carried to the spirit world.

 
          
Despite
such dire consequences, Nine Killer never allowed himself to be alone with
Shell Comb for any length of time, unsure of his resolve should she ever offer
herself.

 
          
The
Kwiokos, Green Serpent, sat on the right side of the fire, Lightning Cat and
Streaked Bear dutifully behind him. The old priest looked tired. His eyes
wandered as if the purpose of the council eluded him.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk’s niece, Yellow Net, sat just to his right. A prominent member of the
community, Hunting Hawk had always sought Yellow Net’s advice on matters
concerning the village. She was the daughter of Hunting Hawk’s younger sister,
and an old friend of Shell Comb’s. A somber expression creased Yellow Net’s
face.

 
          
“I
have received a message from Three Myrtle Village,” Hunting Hawk said wearily.
“Black Spike informs us that if we want High Fox, we will find his warriors
waiting for us. He claims his son is innocent.”

 
          
“He
is.” Shell Comb gave her mother a level stare. “This is a distraction. We are
losing time and advantage as Corn Hunter prepares for our retaliation.”

 
          
“The
young man’s tracks led right to the girl’s body.” Hunting Hawk glared back.
“Corn Hunter’s warriors were found on the other side of the ridge. From where
Quick Fawn saw them, and where Nine Killer intercepted them, they could not
have killed her.” “They could have. If you assume they killed her as a
distraction, then doubled back around the ridge to catch us unaware.” Shell
Comb narrowed an eye, as if daring her mother. Hunting Hawk glanced at Nine
Killer, ignoring the statement.

 
          
Nine
Killer sighed, and spread his hands. “It is possible, but I don’t think it
happened that way.”

 
          
“And
why not?” Shell Comb had turned her attention on him. Curse it, a man could
melt under those eyes.

 
          
Why
did she have to look at him that way?

 
          
“If
Winged Blackbird’s warriors had killed her, wouldn’t they have simply
retreated, their mission accomplished? A dead Red Knot couldn’t marry the Great
Tayac. They would have scalped the girl, mutilated her in some way to send us a
message, a warning not to ally with the upriver villages.”

 
          
“Assuming
they knew who she was,” Copper Thunder added. “Perhaps, unaware, she walked
right into the middle of them. They killed her so she could give no warning,
and hurried on.”

 
          
Tayac,
you know better than that. Even if a war party didn’t recognize her, they would
have taken a trophy, something to give Corn Hunter. What game are you playing,
beast?

 
          
Before
Nine Killer could respond, Yellow Net shook her head. “No. Winged Blackbird
knew her.” Her gaze shifted to Shell Comb. “A year ago … you took her with you
when we traded for rhyolite.”

 
          
Shell
Comb nodded slowly. “Yes, she played with many of the children. Even Corn
Hunter’s. They would have known her.” She gave Nine Killer a forgiving look.
“Perhaps they didn’t kill her, War Chief. But I… it’s just…”

 
          
“Trying
to protect Three Myrtle?” Hunting Hawk asked. “Is that it? You lived there for
a long time.”

 
          
Shell
Comb stared down at her hands. Nine Killer bit his lip, touched by her sudden
vulnerability.

 
          
“I
saw her ghost,” Green Serpent said, a faraway look in his eyes.

 
          
“What
ghost, Kwiokos?” Hunting Hawk asked sourly. “What are you talking about, old
man?”

 
          
Green
Serpent’s mouth opened, his tongue pink in the walnut brown of his withered
face. “The morning she was killed. Her ghost was in the House of the Dead.

 
          
Looking
at the bodies of the ancestors. She came back to join them.”

 
          
“Her
ghost?” Copper Thunder asked, a light tone in his voice. “Are you sure it was
hers?”

 
          
Green
Serpent frowned, drawing the wrinkles in his forehead together. “I think. Well,
you know, there are so many. Sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart. I didn’t
pay much attention. They walk around all night, you know. She seemed to be in
such a hurry. That’s what brought her to my attention.”

 
          
“You
were asleep when I was there just after dawn!” Hunting Hawk snapped. “What’s
the matter with you?”

 
          
Lightning
Cat winced, and glanced at Streaked Bear. A knowing glance passed between them.

 
          
Deadpan,
Copper Thunder suggested, “Perhaps we should ask her ghost who the killer is?”

 
          
“Yes,”
Green Serpent agreed. “I shall. Next time I see her. I keep looking for the
killer, but the vision wavers, and the Spirits aren’t speaking clearly.”

 
          
Don’t
bait the old man! Nine Killer shifted, his dislike of Copper Thunder deepening.
The dung-eater is mocking us. He is like a weasel, and we are the mice. Why
doesn’t Hunting Hawk throw him out? Is she that afraid of him? Or doesn’t she
see it?

 
          
Hunting
Hawk seemed totally oblivious, staring at the fire. “The ancestors talked to me
that morning. But I couldn’t hear them.”

 
          
“Mostly,
they shout.” Green Serpent nodded his head. “You’re lucky you couldn’t hear
them.”

 
          
“And
did you hear them when my mother was there, noble Green Serpent?” Shell Comb
watched him with a hawkish intensity. When the priest gave her an empty look,
she spread her hands wide and stated, “No. As my mother said. You were asleep.”

 
          
“Leave
him be,” Hunting Hawk ordered. “Clawing at ourselves isn’t going to solve this
thing.” She met Nine Killer’s eyes. “What would it take to lay hands on High
Fox?”

 
          
“That
depends on Black Spike, Weroansqua. You know the mettle of the Three Myrtle
warriors. We’ve fought side by side often enough. But, before you decide on
this course, I would caution my Weroansqua to consider it very carefully.”

 
          
“Oh,
I will indeed, War Chief.” She tilted her head as she studied him. “You don’t
want to do it, do you?”

 
          
Copper
Thunder’s lips quirked in amusement. Did anyone but Nine Killer see it? “No,
Weroansqua. In the first place, it will be a difficult raid. Black Spike will
have his scouts out. He’s prepared for us. Second, assuming we penetrate his
defense, we’ll pay dearly for it. And, if we do break through, there is no
telling where the youth will be. He may not even be in the village. And, finally,
my warriors have friends and family among the Three Myrtle warriors.

 
          
Some
are blood kin, others are of the same clan. If you order this, your warriors
will comply, but their hearts will not be in it.”

 
          
“And
you, War Chief?”

 
          
“I
will do as you order.” He dared not look at Copper Thunder for fear that he
might lose his control at whatever expression the Great Tayac might betray. “We
don’t know for sure that the boy did it,” Yellow Net observed in a calming
voice. “He most likely did, but Shell Comb is correct, it could be someone
else.” Her gaze flicked toward Copper Thunder; then she said, “The stakes are
particularly high here. A miscalculation could doom us all.”