People of the Mist (36 page)

 
          
“I
find it a soothing mixture on a cold night like this.” Hunting Hawk waited, the
chill forgotten.

 
          
The
Great Tayac sipped the brew, grunted his pleasure, and cradled the gourd cup in
strong hands. “Yes, I knew him before. On the other side of the
Mountains-of-the Setting-Sun, far to the southwest on the great river called
the Black Warrior. He and I crossed paths. At the time I was traveling with my
father, a Trader. The man you know as The Panther was called Raven then, a
wandering magician and rumormonger. No, that’s too strong. Let’s call him a
storyteller, a man who made his way by entertaining the great chiefs with
incredible stories. The greater the flights of fantasy, the more they liked it.
The stories he told became more and more fantastic.”

 
          
“That
doesn’t sound like the sort of thing to prompt his being thrown out of
Flat
Pearl
Village
.”

 
          
“No,
but he was also known for poisonings, assassinations, spying for other chiefs.
He would report on their defenses, on the comings and goings of war parties. It
was whispered that he betrayed several of the towns to their enemies.” Copper
Thunder’s eyes slitted. “Keep one thing in mind: No matter what he tells you
about himself, about his past, it will be a lie!”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk studied him as he talked, seeking any hint of deception. Copper Thunder
betrayed none. “I will watch him, Great Tayac. I assure you. At any sign of
treachery, I shall have him removed at best, burned alive at worst.”

 
          
Copper
Thunder’s lips twitched. “Weroansqua, one last word of advice, if I may. Though
I tread on delicate ground, I would not necessarily trust your War Chief to
‘remove’ him. Raven has a habit of blinding those closest to him. Perhaps he
truly is a witch in this regard. However, should you need help with this
problem, you need but ask.” And you will be more than happy to kill him
yourself. “In the unlikely event that I need your help, I will not hesitate.”

 
          
Copper
Thunder drank deeply of his tea and shot a quick look at Shell Comb. Hunting
Hawk noted that her daughter had turned slightly so that the light accented her
lustrous black hair, and if anything, her eyes had enlarged, as if to drink his
very soul.

 
          
Yes,
look, he is interested. The revelation surprised her as much as any of the
day’s events. She could feel that subtle sexual tension between them like the
crackling of rubbed fox fur.

 
          
“So,”
Copper Thunder said to Shell Comb, “High Fox eludes us again?”

 
          
“Even
the worthy have to wait for fate to drop the ripened plum into their hands,”
Shell Comb reminded him. “You, of all people, should know that war doesn’t
always grant victory on the first skirmish. The best rewards are those hardest
won. And there is always a price to be paid.”

 
          
He
studied Shell Comb over the rim of his cup. “If you wanted something badly
enough, what price would you pay?”

 
          
Shell
Comb spoke with unusual bitterness. “Perhaps I have already paid, Great Tayac.
I have given up everything for my clan, my people. But the price is for me
alone to know.” She gave him an enigmatic smile, one that teased and
challenged.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk saw the glint in his eyes as he laughed aloud, sharing some secret
communication with Shell Comb. “No doubt you have. You’re a deep one indeed.”
He glanced at Hunting Hawk then, his expression calculating. “I don’t know
which of you is more dangerous, Weroansqua, you, or your daughter.”

 
          
“We
manage, Great Tayac,” Hunting Hawk replied, half-expecting Shell Comb to say
something ridiculous. But Shell Comb’s only response was to mock Copper Thunder
with a lifted eyebrow. “I thank you for the tea,” he said, rising. “It is
late.” His face turned stony. “Do heed my warnings about this Panther. He’s
trouble. Don’t trust him. And, well, I wouldn’t let him around the food. You
never know what he might put in it.”

 
          
“Thank
you.” Hunting Hawk inclined her head. “We appreciate your warning and will be
on guard. Have-no fear.”

 
          
She
watched him go, collecting his warriors at the doorway and disappearing into
the night.

 
          
“So,
he thinks I’m dangerous,” Shell Comb said softly.

 
          
“A
most interesting night,” Hunting Hawk agreed. “Very well, I shall give this
Panther, or Raven, or whatever he is called, a chance. Play him off Copper
Thunder, if nothing else.”

 
          
“And
my other suggestion?”

 
          
“Yes,
he is interested in you, rather fascinated, in fact. But beware of him,
daughter. He’s not like the others you’ve toyed with through the years.”

 
          
Shell
Comb’s eyes gleamed as she stared at the fire. “No … he’s not, Mother.”

 
          
At
her daughter’s expression, a cold shiver traced down Hunting Hawk’s spine. But
she hadn’t time for Shell Comb, not now. Plans spun through her like the
filaments of a web. She had things to do.

 
          
It
was him! It was really him, after all of these years! Who would have thought?
Panther had wondered about the upstart from the Pipestone Clan, but he had
refused to believe his own gut instincts.

 
          
“He
called you Raven,” Nine Killer said as Rosebud cleared away the dishes and the
empty pots and laid them out for the dogs to lick clean. Two of her daughters
supplied wood for the fire. The flames licked up around the branches, popping
and snapping as they cast their light on the inside of Rosebud’s long house The
wood support posts took on an amber hue, and the shadows leaped through the
corn, tobacco, and sacked goods hanging from the rafters.

 
          
Sun
Conch sat to Panther’s right, turning her war club over and over in her hands.
Her eyes looked far away. Perhaps she had discovered that being a warrior
wasn’t all that easy.

 
          
Panther
worked to control the excitement and fear that surged within him. Taking a deep
breath, he slumped into a more comfortable position and filled his pipe bowl
with tobacco. He studied the chopped brown weed and shrugged. “A man must be
called something. At the time, that was what I was called..”

 
          
“I
can’t believe you baited the Great Tayac the way you did. I thought for a
moment he was going to kill you,” Nine Killer shook his head.

 
          
“And
in my house!” Rosebud cried. “Think of it. I would have had to move. Who could
live here after a witch was killed in the house?” Panther responded, “Trust me.
After that wondrous meal you fed me, my soul would never harass you, dear
woman.”

 
          
“He
took me by surprise,” Sun Conch said glumly. “He lunged for you so quickly,
Elder, I couldn’t do anything.” “I was in no danger. Sun Conch, if you learn
nothing else from me remember this: Appearances can deceive. Never ever
underestimate an opponent. Only a fool acts against another man without
thinking through the ramifications. Copper Thunder, for all of his bluster and
cunning, is still a fool. That part of his soul hasn’t changed.”

 
          
“The
best challenge is the one never issued,” Nine Killer added thoughtfully.

 
          
Panther
smiled and bent forward to light his pipe. His wrinkled cheeks worked in and
out as he puffed a billowing cloud of blue smoke. “Such sense is generally
wasted on War Chiefs.”

 
          
“Not
if they want to win.”

 
          
Panther
sighed as the tobacco worked its magic on his tired body. The excitement of
battle was thinning from his blood. Grass Mat! After all these years!

 
          
Blue
smoke rose from his pipe. It was said that Okeus gave the world tobacco as a
reward for good behavior. For the life of him, Panther couldn’t figure out the
catch. Such a thing just wasn’t normally in Okeus’ nature.

 
          
Rosebud
cast suspicious glances at Panther as she collected the shiny pots. The dogs
had finished and now wandered off to rest their noses on their paws.

 
          
“I
have missed this,” Panther said. “A man forgets what it’s like to live in a
snug house and share a fire of an evening.”

 
          
“Then
why did you run off to that island?” Rosebud asked, beating Nine Killer to the
question.

 
          
Panther
again watched the smoke curl from his pipe. An image of Grass Mat’s mother
lingered, her shining black hair spread over the robes as he looked down into
her dark brown eyes. Not once in all the long nights when she warmed his robes
had she ever uttered a sound. No emotion had crossed her face as he spent
himself inside her. For all the warmth her naked flesh imparted to his, her
soul had been forever cold and alien to him.

 
          
Grass
Mat, here!

 
          
Panther
sighed wearily. “I went for many reasons. I wanted time to study the world, to
know why it was made the way it was. I needed time to find myself, to reflect
on who I was and how I came to be that way. Mostly I just needed to think.” And
to deal with the ghosts.

 
          
“And
what did you find?” Nine Killer asked as he pulled his own stone pipe from a
leather pouch at the foot of his bed. He resettled himself and studied Panther
with thoughtful brown eyes.

 
          
“I
found that truth can be as slippery as an eel in greasy hands. That humans are
as treacherous as sea nettles in summer waters, looking so delicate and fragile
but delivering a very painful sting. I learned the easiest person of all to
fool. Do you know?”

 
          
“No.”
Nine Killer frowned.

 
          
“Yourself.”
Panther pulled on his pipe and glanced at Sun Conch to see if she’d understood.
To his chagrin, she still seemed to be fretting about Copper Thunder’s attack.
“To answer your question, Rosebud, that’s why I went. To figure out what had
happened to me—what I had done to myself. And, I hoped, maybe in the process I
would learn something about why the world is the way the world is.”

 
          
“Elder,
the world is the way it was made to be, isn’t it?” Sun Conch asked. “How could
it be any different?”

 
          
Panther
gave her a sly look. “Sometimes I think your optimistic innocence is my
greatest weakness. I wish .. v”

 
          
A
stick tapped outside and the flap to the doorway lifted. Hunting Hawk peered
inside. “I thought I’d find him here.”

 
          
Rosebud
instinctively lowered her eyes. “Enter, Weroansqua.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk ducked through, wobbled, and caught herself with her walking stick. She
crossed the mat covered floor and lowered herself amid grunts. One by one, she
studied them. To Panther’s eyes, Nine Killer clearly looked the most
uncomfortable, as if caught in a breach of etiquette.

 
          
“I
just had a visitor,” she said, gazing levelly at Panther. “The Great Tayac
objects to your presence in my village. Ordered me to make you leave.”

 
          
“Brash
of him.” Panther puffed on his pipe and sent another cloud of blue toward the
roof.

 
          
“I
thought so, too.” Hunting Hawk’s gaze narrowed. “But he told me fascinating
things about you. Said you betrayed villages to their enemies. Poisoned people.
Said you did a lot of terrible things.”

 
          
Panther
gave her a dry smile. “No doubt he did. There is no love lost between us.”

 
          
“Why
are you here? What do you want?”

 
          
Panther
ran his fingers along the stem of his pipe. “I have told you.” “You came to
find out who murdered my granddaughter. Yes, so you’ve said. Why should I
believe you? Why shouldn’t I believe Copper Thunder? He says you committed all
sorts of mayhem.”

 
          
“I
did.” Through the smoke from Panther’s pipe, they stared at each other. “I’ll
not engage in sneaky little games with you, Weroansqua. I have no need of them
anymore. Across the mountains, to the west, along the mighty rivers and down
toward the south, are great chieftainships. Tribes who raise mountains of earth
and still greater temples atop them. They trade, make war, and conduct their
affairs with a passion and dedication we can barely understand. A long time
ago, I left this country and traveled among them. I served some of their
leaders, traded, and even gained some fame as a War Chief. The kind of
authority they wield is an intoxicant, heady and wondrous. For a time, I fell
under the sway of that giddy Power. In the end, I found it hollow, for it
devours the soul.”

 
          
He
glanced at Nine Killer. “When I became aware of what I had become, of how much
I had lost of myself, I left. Alone in the night, I walked away from the great
wealth and the authority I had accumulated. That was when I escaped to my
little island. And there I would have stayed had not Sun Conch come to me and
asked me to speak for her friend. Had she offered me wealth, or status, or
slaves, or lands, I would have turned her down. Instead, she offered herself.
She did that because she thought a man was being blamed for something he didn’t
do.”

 
          
“You
want me to believe that you no longer crave these things?” Hunting Hawk asked
suspiciously. “That you are here because this girl asked you on behalf of her
friend?”

 
          
Panther
shrugged. “Believe what you will, Weroans qua. I have told you the truth.” He
chuckled. “Curious. Once I spun lies the way a spider spins a web, and now I
offer truth and find it less palatable to people than a good lie. What does it
tell us, Weroansqua, when complex lies are easier to accept than simple truth?”

 
          
“You
don’t deny Copper Thunder’s accusations?” “Why should I? A story is like a corn
plant. It grows over time, rises tall and sprouts new leaves, but at the root,
there was a kernel to start it. Grass Mat saw only a few of the seeds I sowed.”

 
          
“Grass
Mat?” She cocked her head.

 
          
“He
was called that once. I take it that he doesn’t announce his humble beginnings
these days. Great Tayac does have a better sound to it, doesn’t it?”

 
          
Nine
Killer shifted uncomfortably, glancing back and forth between them. Rosebud had
slipped away, increasing the distance between them. Only Sun Conch seemed
unafraid. She sat with her war club across her lap, and her young face
expressionless.

 
          
“Enough
of the past,” Panther said. “I have survived a long time, and done a great many
things that I must live with. Those things, good and bad, made me who I am,
Weroansqua. Just as the things you have done have made you who and what you are
today. It is the present we must deal with.”

 
          
“And
you are that concerned with the present?” She seemed unconvinced.

 
          
“I
dislike chaos. A disagreement between Okeus and me.” He realized his pipe had
gone cold and knocked the dottle into the fire. “Here you sit, Hunting Hawk,
squarely mired in the present, and around you, a great tempest is gathering.
Isn’t this correct? You’re an old woman and death is reaching out to caress
your soul. Throughout your life you’ve worked, schemed, and sacrificed for the
security of your family, clan, and friends. But now, of a sudden, everything is
about to come apart. You fear that your life’s work will be for nothing—that
your world won’t survive your death.

 
          
“Your
most terrible fear is that your ghost will have to watch the dissolution of
your dreams. You couldn’t bear that thought, so you sought an alliance with
Copper Thunder, figuring that was the last great gift you could give your
people. A chance to survive the growing influence of the Mamanatowick. You
would marry your granddaughter to Copper Thunder, because he was the most
promising counterbalance to Water Snake.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk swallowed hard, her eyes vacant, but she listened to Panther.

 
          
“And
then, just when it seemed that everything was going to work out, Red Knot is
murdered, and the situation is worse than if you had done nothing. You are
desperate, teetering on the edge of a black pit, clawing for balance in one
last desperate chance to save yourself.” “So you sent me against
Three
Myrtle
Village
,” Nine Killer whispered. “How do you know?”
Hunting Hawk demanded.

 
          
“I
know.” Panther watched the leaping flames, his soul stirred by the memories
he’d hidden for so long.

 
          
Once,
I’d have done the same.

 
          
“Then
you are a witch.” Hunting Hawk rubbed her face, her withered hands pulling the
wrinkles this way and that. “No one else could see so clearly into the soul of
another.” “You know little of witches. They don’t peer into people’s souls.
They tend toward more exciting things.” Panther reached for Nine Killer’s little
ceramic pot and pinched tobacco from it to relight his pipe. “But what can I
do?” Hunting Hawk demanded. “How can I save us?”