People of the Mist (33 page)

 
          
“Why?”
Shell Comb demanded. Her voice sounded raw. “What is our business to you?”

 
          
“I
was asked to do this.” Panther spread his bony feet and locked his wrinkled knees
to keep standing. “If you were to demand that I leave, I might be tempted to
ask why. Such a demand might stir a great many curiosities.”

 
          
“We
have nothing to hide!” Shell Comb’s fists knotted at her sides. “Search, for
all I care.” And with that, she wheeled, and shoved her way through the
clustered people. Hunting Hawk sighed wearily. Any advantage she might have had
had melted like ice in spring. “I don’t want a night traveler in my village.”

 
          
Panther’s
eyes seemed to glow. “There will be no witchery within the walls of
Flat
Pearl
Village
.” He paused. “At least, not on my part. I
give you my word before Ohona and Okeus. I have told you why I am here.” A slow
smile crossed his face. “And, from what I have heard and seen with my own eyes,
I think you need me.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk struggled with the sick feeling in her gut. Did she dare say no? Terrible
stories circulated about this man, about his dark Power.

 
          
“I
honor his word,” Nine Killer said, placing himself solidly at The Panther’s
side. “But, as always, Weroans qua, I will do your bidding.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk’s mind raced. What was it that bound Nine Killer to this dreaded witch?
People were watching her, waiting for her decision. Did she dare tell him to
leave? Okeus take her soul, any turn in Flat Pearl’s luck would descend on her
head like a weight of stone. Turn him away, and there was no telling what evil
he would work against her.

 
          
She
wet her lips. “I will hear what you have to say, Panther. Then I will decide
what to do with you. You have one day to convince me.”

 
          
With
that, she made a gesture of dismissal, then pointed to Nine Killer. “You will
stay, War Chief.”

 
          
People
drifted off slowly, talking in low voices as they eyed The Panther. When they
were far enough away, Hunting Hawk said, “Now, War Chief, what is this about?”

 
          
Nine
Killer related the events at
Three
Myrtle
Village
, omitting nothing. “So, I brought him here,
Weroans qua.”

 
          
Through
it all, The Panther’s eyes never wavered, and wary young Sun Conch studied the
departing villagers. The girl had grown a full hand since the last Coming of
the Leaves, but she had yet to develop a woman’s curves. In her green dress,
she resembled a moon faced willow stalk.

 
          
“So,
it seems I must thank you for saving my warriors,” she said. “But I still don’t
want you here.”

 
          
The
Panther sighed and looked toward the village, where people gathered around the
palisade. “Oh, I can understand that, Weroansqua. Were I you, I wouldn’t want
me either, but I am here. In the beginning, I didn’t really wish to take on
this task;’ however, my curiosity has been piqued. Too much of this sad event
makes little sense. High Fox is the likely killer, and indeed, he may yet prove
to be the culprit, but too many people of fair judgment do not believe him
responsible.” He paused. “How about you, Weroansqua? Who do you believe killed
Red Knot, and why was she killed?”

 
          
“High
Fox,” she growled. “Because Red Knot was promised to another.”

 
          
“Too
easy,” The Panther replied. “And, talking to High Fox, my soul can’t seem to
place him as the murderer.”

 
          
“Your
soul?” she countered. “You place things with your soul? I have heard that
animals tell you secrets.”

 
          
Nine
Killer tensed at Panther’s frown. Ah, that prodded a sensitive spot!

 
          
“Sometimes,”
The Panther conceded. “But not in this instance. No, my crows only told me
about Sun Conch’s arrival. They have been mute about who killed Red Knot.”

 
          
“Too
bad. Perhaps you should go ask them, and leave us alone.” The Panther was
staring up at the last light. Absently, he said, “If they discover the truth,
they will come and tell me. Really, I would rather beat them to it.”

 
          
“Weroansqua,”
Nine Killer begged. “Please, we have enough difficulties as it is. If The
Panther can make sense of this, why not let him try?”

 
          
She
pinned him with her hard glare. “I don’t understand your part in this, War
Chief.”

 
          
Nine
Killer hunched his shoulders, as if expecting a blow. “I trust him, Weroansqua.
And you told me yourself that if I could find an alternative to war with Three
Myrtle, you would take it.”

 
          
Yes,
she’d said that, hadn’t she? Sworn on the name of the dark god—and look what
good it had done her!

 
          
She
wet her thin lips. “I give you one day, witch.” Her stomach crawled at the
admission. “But, I don’t want you sleeping within the palisade. Do you
understand? And, War Chief, he is your responsibility. I want him watched,
constantly.”

 
          
She
turned, jabbing the ground angrily with her sassafras stick. No good would come
of this. No good at all!

 
          
Sun
Conch sat on a stump, shivering. The night had fallen clear and cold. Her
breath clouded each time she exhaled. They had made camp in the. narrow band of
trees that lined the inlet just south of the canoe landing. Just behind them,
the winter-fallow fields, spiked with burned stumps, stretched toward the
wooded ridge. Their camp lay but a short distance from the palisade—close
enough that they could hear each voice that called out from
Flat
Pearl
Village
. People must be cooking supper. She heard
laughter, and children shrieking to the barking of dogs. Wooden plates clunked,
and a golden aura of firelight haloed the palisades. It made Sun Conch long for
home and family. And High Fox … her precious High Fox.

 
          
Panther
hummed to himself as he diligently arranged kindling in the fire pit they’d
hacked into the frozen soil. He looked frail and old. The tattered brown
blanket he wore around his shoulders highlighted his gray hair and bushy
eyebrows.

 
          
Sun
Conch cupped her hands around one knee and listened to the sounds beyond the
village. Owls hooted as they glided over the treetops, their eyes flashing.
Owls: the familiars of night travelers.

 
          
“Elder?”
she said. “May I ask you a question?”

 
          
“Questions
are good things. Of course you may.” He placed his last twig on the kindling
pile and lifted a small ceramic pot of hot coals, given to him by Nine Killer,
from his pack. He sprinkled the coals over the carefully arranged kindling and
crouched down to blow on them.

 
          
Sun
Conch said, “Do you recall when you talked about cocoons hatching? I didn’t
really understand. I was hoping you could give me some answers about that.”

 
          
Smoke
curled up from the kindling. Panther kept blowing and the coals flared. Bright
yellow flames licked up around the under. He sat back to catch his breath. Sun
Conch shivered at the sudden warmth. Light leaped through the bare branches
above their camp.

 
          
“People,”
Panther said, “are always searching for answers, Sun Conch. Answers. They all
want answers. And that’s what cocoons are.”

 
          
“Answers?”

 
          
“Oh,
yes,” he said, and nodded somberly. “The worst kind. They’re absolute truths.
Lifeless and worthless, but absolute. The clan is mother. The village is
family. The world was created by the great tree that grew out of the mud in the
first days before giving fruit to First Man and First Woman. Boys are carefree
warriors. Girls are responsible managers. The moment we come into the world,
the first threads are woven into our souls, and meant to be the foundation of
who we become. And so they are. From those cocoons we can hatch many grand
things, but humans usually kill them before they have a chance. A few Comings
of the Leaves and those precious cocoons have been turned into nothing more
than hollow husks.”

 
          
Sun
Conch clutched her feathered cape close at her throat and studied the way the
firelight flowed into his deep wrinkles. “What does that mean?”

 
          
He
smiled, and the few teeth in his mouth shone orange in the gleam. “You have to
stop wanting answers. Let them go. You can’t grow wings with a belly full of
answers. Wings are born only when you start living your questions.”

 
          
“Living
… questions?”

 
          
Panther
added a larger branch to the fire.
Sparks
crackled and spun upward in a blinking
twirl. “Oh, yes. Whenever you truly take the time to look at a trembling leaf,
or watch a stone being tumbled” along the bottom of a river, you are living a
question.”

 
          
Sun
Conch’s brows pulled together. “You’re confusing me, Elder.” “Hmm?” He looked
up.

 
          
“What
question are you living when you look at a trembling leaf?”

 
          
Panther
tucked his blanket around his moccasins, and heaved a sigh. “You want me to
give you an answer?”

 
          
Sun
Conch sensed she’d said something wrong. She wet her lips. “Yes.”

 
          
He
made an airy gesture with his hand. “Answers are not shiny rocks that you can
dig from the ground, Sun Conch. They are the cool air in your lungs, and the
warm blood pulsing in your veins. If you live your questions, sincerely, with
all your heart, the answers will smile at you from every grain of sand and
drifting cloud. Answers, my girl, are not found. They are lived.”

 
          
She
fumbled with the war club tied to the side of her belt, pulling it around to
the front, and checking the knot to make sure it would come loose with one
quick tug. “So… you’re not going to answer me?”

 
          
His
bushy silver brows arched. “I could. But it would be my answer. Not yours. The
answer has to be yours, or it isn’t an answer at all.”

 
          
“And”—her
eyes darted about uncertainly–“I will only find answers by living my
questions?”

 
          
“Correct.”

 
          
Sun
Conch scratched her calf while she considered this. The breeze changed, blowing
sweet hickory smoke in her face. She had no clear idea of what he meant, but
the discussion fascinated her. “How do I live questions, Elder?”

 
          
“You
want me to give you an answer?”

 
          
Sun
Conch bit her lip. “Does that mean you don’t really want to talk to me?”

 
          
“On
the contrary. I am enjoying our talk very much. I guess I’m just not very good
at it these days.” He stretched out on his side by the fire and propped his
head on his hand. His gray hair touched the ground, and the lines around his
eyes drew tight. “There is one thing I can tell you about living your
questions.”

 
          
“What,
Elder? I would really like to know.”

 
          
“Well,
I’m not certain how to say it so that you will understand.”

 
          
“Please,
try.” She swiveled around on her stump and leaned forward to get closer to him.
“I may not understand now, Elder, but someday I might. My mother used to say
that when I got older I would …” Her voice trailed off. Every time she thought
about her mother, she felt as if she’d eaten flakes of mica, and her stomach
was being cut to pieces.

 
          
Panther
gently said, “Seeing inside the empty cocoons is one of the hardest things you
will ever do, child. But it is all right to look.”

 
          
She
wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her deer hide dress, and croaked, “About living
questions: You said there was one thing you could tell me. What is it?” He
smiled. “Well, let’s start at the beginning.”

 
          
“Very
well.” “You must first realize that life is not days, or weeks, or moons.
Certainly not Comings of the Leaves.”

 
          
“Then
what is it?”

 
          
“Life
is instants.”

 
          
“Instants?
Like … the blink of an eye?”

 
          
“Yes.
A single blink of the eye. That is all we have.” Panther reached out and tapped
the toe of her moccasin with his finger, as if trying to get her full
attention. “You will know you are living your questions, girl, when you see
life that way. As precious, fleeting instants, unconnected to anything else,
with no promise of another instant to come.” She straightened up slowly,
frowning, and caught sight of Nine Killer slipping out of the palisade. The
stocky War Chief walked toward them, his hand on his war club. Sun Conch said,
“I will think on your words, Elder. I promise. But for now, you should turn
around.”

 
          
Panther
followed her gaze and got to his feet.

 
          
Nine
Killer had a distinctly queasy feeling in his gut as he led The Panther and Sun
Conch toward the village. The night had turned bitterly cold, nipping at his
exposed skin like tiny teeth.

 
          
“War
Chief, is your stomach bothering you?” Panther asked.

 
          
“Yes,
I … How did you know?”

 
          
“From
the expression on your face.” “The Weroansqua is frightened. I’ve never seen
her this way. I can hardly believe that she didn’t have me run you off this
afternoon. Or kill you on the spot.”

 
          
“She
had no choice.”

 
          
“You
don’t know the Weroansqua.”

 
          
“Perhaps,
but I know her kind. Tell me, who was that younger woman? Tall, attractive. The
one who stalked off like a mad she-bear?”

 
          
“That
was Shell Comb. The Weroansqua’s daughter.”

 
          
“Ah,
the girl’s mother. The one who thinks Winged Blackbird’s warriors killed Red
Knot.”

 
          
“That’s
her.”

 
          
They
slowed at the overlapped gap in the palisade, an unusual number of people
loitering by the opening. Nine Killer waved them away. “What are you going to
do for food?”

 
          
“We
have some dried fish in our packs. It will be enough.”

 
          
“You
could… that is, I would be happy to provide for you. Rosebud, uh … my sister no
doubt has a pot of hominy warming. After all, the Weroansqua never said
anything about eating inside.”

 
          
“You
might draw more of her wrath.”

 
          
Nine
Killer sighed. “She’ll call me when she’s ready. I was Blackened and killed
once when I became a man. The worst she could do is kill me again.”

 
          
“Indeed,”
Panther noted. “But it’s the way that she’d kill you that would be most
unpleasant.”

 
          
Nine
Killer scowled at the reminder. As they passed through the narrow defensive
passage, his skin prickled. An odd sensation to experience coming into his own
village, but his place here had been compromised. How easy it would be for a
frightened or worried villager to drive an arrow through him.

 
          
No,
not yet, he reminded himself. We just got home. But in a couple of days, when
fear of The Panther begins to eat at their souls, then they will become
dangerous. He cast a nervous glance at The Panther and Sun Conch. The girl
moved like a warrior, each step careful, eyes searching for danger. She’d
draped her cape over her shoulders, and the red and blue feathers glinted in
the tree-filtered light.

 
          
He
led them across the gloomy village, people watching from a safe distance. How
often was it that a Powerful witch entered their sanctuary?

 
          
“You
know, Panther, this might not have been such a good idea.”

 
          
“Life
is full of bad decisions, but right now I’m more concerned with my empty stomach
than a friendly reception from your people.”

 
          
Nine
Killer noticed his sister peering out beneath the door flap and belatedly
realized that, after all, it was her house. She wouldn’t refuse me entry, would
she?

 
          
To
forestall a scene, he called out, “Rosebud, Nine Killer brings guests with
him!”

 
          
“A
word with you, brother?” Rosebud called out hesitantly. For once, her eyes had
lost that vexing look, replaced by an uncertain sheen. She set her strong jaw,
fists on her hips.