People of the Mist (61 page)

 
          
Green
Serpent raised a mousy white eyebrow. “I would say that it does not fit.”

 
          
“So
would I,” Nine Killer agreed. “The distance between the spikes on Copper
Thunder’s club is too great.”

 
          
“Yes,
it is. And the indentations don’t match the shape of the war head.” Panther
bent close and squinted at the conical stone point set into the war club. “The
club that broke Red Knot’s skull had a square head.”

 
          
“No
copper spike made that second hole,” Nine Killer added. “The copper spike on
the Great Tayac’s war club would have jabbed a slit through the bone. Sort of
like driving a thin section of shell through a pumpkin. The blow that hit Red
Knot crushed rather than punctured.”

 
          
Panther
sighed and lowered the war club. From the pouch on his belt, he lifted the
fragment of broken wood from the murder site, and carefully inspected the war
club. The weapon wasn’t missing any such chip. “Alas, another trail dead-ends
in a thicket.” He stared thoughtfully at Red Knot’s skull. It grinned back at
him in the firelight. The one odd peg like tooth seemed to gleam in the light.

 
          
Nine
Killer rubbed the back of his neck. “How I would have liked to have those holes
match. I would have taken a great deal of pleasure in demonstrating the fit to
Copper Thunder.”

 
          
“Don’t
discount him yet,” Panther warned. “All we know is that ;/ he did kill her, it
wasn’t with this club. That chip we found might match another war club.”

 
          
“But
you have to admit, he would have preferred to use his own weapon. After all, he
carries this one around like some sort of personal totem.” Panther grunted as
he stared at Red Knot’s skull. “The answer is here,” he said thoughtfully.
“She’s showing us something. But… what?”

 
          
Nine
Killer gave the skull a skeptical look. “Elder, it’s only a skull on a mat.”

 
          
“Indeed,
War Chief.” Panther’s eyes went suddenly vacant and he propped himself on the
war club’s handle. “I’ve seen a tooth like that.” “Elder?” Nine Killer bent
down to study Red Knot’s teeth. Bloodstains darkened the roots, but the teeth
had been polished white where they protruded from the bone.

 
          
“A
thought, War Chief. That’s all. Something I must look into.”

 
          
“Would
you care to—”

 
          
“No.
Not at this time. I want to …”

 
          
At
that moment, shouts rose outside. Nine Killer straightened, hearing a voice
call out: “… Stole what?”

 
          
“I
think the Great Tayac has discovered the loss of his war club.” The Panther’s
lips curled in a catlike smile. “If you will excuse me, I will return his
property to him.”

 
          
“You,
Elder? From what I have heard, he already wants to kill you.”

 
          
“All
the more reason for me to take his war club back to him, don’t you think? An attempt
to, well, smooth turbulent waters?”

 
          
“Oh,
yes. Isn’t that what brews hurricanes?”

 
          
“Only
at certain times of year, War Chief.” And with that Panther nodded his
gratitude to Green Serpent, slung the heavy war club over his bony shoulders,
and plodded for the door.

 
          
The
morning dawned brittlely cold, the sky clear. Pink shaded the east as the
winter sun beamed through the bare branches above the ridgetop. His breath
rising before his face like a fog, Panther walked out past the palisade to look
across the fields.

 
          
The
blackened stumps of the long-dead trees rose like jagged dark teeth from the
choppy surface of the field. Weed stems and occasional dead grass—material too
fine to collect for fuel—gave the track-pocked snow a tawny hue in places.

 
          
Yesterday
had been warm enough to melt the top layer of snow, but in the night it had
frozen to a resistant crust.

 
          
With
each step, Panther’s moccasins punched through to the soft snow beneath.

 
          
Interspersed
throughout the fields stood humpbacked long houses Frost glittered on the
thatch, and thin twists of blue smoke rose from their smoke holes. It didn’t
take much imagination to believe that magical whales lay hunched in the snowy
waves of the field.

 
          
Panther
saw his quarry stand up from emptying her night water and resettle her dress.
He pulled his blanket tighter around his sunken shoulders and fought the urge
to shiver in the morning cold.

 
          
“Greetings,
Shell Comb,” he said amiably as he walked up to her. “I’m surprised to see you
up so early after all of last night’s excitement.”

 
          
She
gave him a skeptical inspection, one fine eyebrow cocked. “Excitement of your
doing, Elder.” Her lips quirked. “I’d still like to know how you stole Copper
Thunder’s war club.”

 
          
“I’ll
bet he would, too.” Panther shrugged, and lowered himself onto the weatherworn
stump. When the people opened a new field, they girdled the trees to kill them,
then alternately chopped and burned to clear the land. Since the stumps could
not be removed, they simply planted around them until they rotted away.

 
          
She
smiled then, a sparkle in her eyes. “Tell me, did you do that just to goad him?
If so, you were successful. He was stamping around cursing all night long. I
think, had he the privacy to do so, he would have killed you on the spot.”

 
          
Panther
mocked surprise. “What? He didn’t believe me when I said that I found it in old
Green Serpent’s firewood pile? I would have sworn it was placed there as an
offering to Okeus. What better way to honor the crooked god, than with a nice
warm bonfire?”

 
          
She
crossed her arms, exhaling frosty breath. “He hates you, you know. Eventually,
he will kill you.”

 
          
“He
might. I’ll make it difficult for him.” Panther waved the thought away. “Shell
Comb, I’m an old man, and, to be honest, if I survive another five winters, it
will be a miracle.” He rubbed his knees. “These joints don’t have the spring
they used to. I think a man can feel his time coming.”

 
          
“How
old are you?”

 
          
“Too
old. Almost seven tens.” He smiled wistfully. “Odd, isn’t it? Most of our old
men are lucky to see four tens of Comings of the Leaves. But then, we have the
one or two odd ones like your mother and me, the ones who seem to go on
forever.”

 
          
“Not
everyone lives to be called Elder with the reverence due one of your age.”

 
          
“No
indeed.” He stared out at the field, pimpled with the little humps of dirt
where corn, beans, and squash had been harvested. The three plants did well
together, each sharing the soil with the other, mutually satisfied with each
other’s company. Why couldn’t different tribes of people be so considerate?
“And some, like young Red Knot, never even come close.”

 
          
She
nodded, lowering her eyes. “Last night, at the Weroansqua’s fire, Copper
Thunder raised a good point. Why do you care so much?”

 
          
“About
Red Knot?” He spread his hands wide. “I have my reasons. Besides, I’m a
crotchety old man. Most people consider me to be a terrible witch. Since I
can’t change the way they think, I’ll do things my own way, and for my own
reasons.”

 
          
“You
lost a daughter once?”

 
          
“No.
A … a good friend. A lover. Someone denied to me.” “I’ve never lost a lover.”
She glanced away. “That is one tragedy I’ve avoided.”

 
          
He
tucked his elbows tight against the chill. “Then, are you going to marry Copper
Thunder?”

 
          
She
shrugged. “At this point, I don’t-know. In the beginning, I thought it was a
good idea, a way to insure the alliance. Now I’m not so sure.”

 
          
“What’s
this? Sense from the senseless Shell Comb?”

 
          
“Is
that how people think of me?”

 
          
“Answer
that yourself.”

 
          
She
stared out across the field with dull eyes. “They should indeed, Elder. The
problem with avoiding responsibility is that in the end, Okeus catches up with
you. No matter what, we all pay for our mistakes.”

 
          
He
nodded. Looking back, through time, he could see her, those large dark eyes
staring up into his. He could see his hand reaching out, sliding down her
glistening raven hair, then following the contour of her cheek. How smooth her
skin had been. The ragged hole in his heart yearned for her as it had yearned
through his long life.

 
          
At
Shell Comb’s gentle sigh, he looked up. What an attractive woman she was, her
hair still black and full, her skin barely lined. Yes, he could see Red Knot in
her, a stunning version of Shell Comb, but younger, the bright promise of life
not yet tarnished by age and care.

 
          
She
noticed his attention, asking, “What look is that in your eyes, Elder? Surely
not desire?”

 
          
“I’m
only old, Shell Comb—not dead. You’re a striking woman.”

 
          
She
shifted uncomfortably, smiling at the compliment. “You flatter me, Elder. Given
your clever mind, I wonder at your purpose.” “I have no purpose. If a man can’t
admire a beautiful woman—and perhaps wish a little—he’d be better off lying on
the platform with the rest of them in the House of the Dead.” He hesitated. “Smile
for me, Shell Comb. Look me right in the eyes, and give me the biggest, most
wonderful smile you can.”

 
          
She
hunched down on her knees, placed her hands on his shoulders, and eye-to-eye
gave him her most radiant smile, flashing her perfect white teeth. After a long
moment, she added, “There, is that enough for you?” An eyebrow arched. “Or, do
you want more?”

 
          
He
chuckled. “Of course I want more, but I’m also well aware of what age does to a
man. No, no, my dear, my time of lying with a woman is over for good and all
time. You see, the problem with age is that your parts wear out. The only thing
that particular part is good for now is passing night water.”

 
          
She
patted him on the shoulders and straightened. “By Okeus! You know, Elder, I
wish you’d seen a few tens of Comings of the Leaves less. I’ll bet you and I
would have made quite a match.” She paused. “You’re not Greenstone Clan, are
you?”

 
          
“No,
not Greenstone. Not now, or ever.” He glanced up. “Still thinking about running
off and sidestepping all this clan business? As I recall, on. that very first
day, you looked at me with longing. You could still go, you know. Maybe wait
until the solstice celebration is over and leave.”

 
          
“It’s
too late for that,” she said sadly.

 
          
“Ah,
yes. I forgot, you didn’t like the strangeness among the Susquehannocks.” He
let the sun warm his face. “How long ago was it that you made that journey
north?”

 
          
“Since
then I’ve seen the leaves come ten and seven times.”

 
          
“Are
the memories still fresh?”

 
          
“Oh,
yes.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “I can see it as if it were yesterday.”

 
          
He
grinned at her. “What did you think of the White Dog ceremony?”