People of the Mist (65 page)

Read People of the Mist Online

Authors: W. Michael Gear

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Native American & Aboriginal

 
          
Beside
the Weroansqua’s Great House stood Copper Thunder, his thick arms crossed on
his chest, his ten warriors lined up on each side with their shaved heads and
high scalp locks As their eyes met across the distance, Copper Thunder
communicated the insolence of victory. But why? What had he won?

 
          
“When
will this final truth be made known?” Black Spike asked quietly from his place a
step to the rear.

 
          
“Tonight.
After you have been fed and welcomed. We will present the things we have found,
and what they mean. You should have time to return home by solstice.”

 
          
“My
son is innocent?”

 
          
“Of
that, I can’t say,” Nine Killer replied. “But our discoveries indicate that he
didn’t kill the girl.”

 
          
Black
Spike exhaled wearily. “Then my relief is complete. Thank you, War Chief.”

 
          
Do
not thank me yet, Weroance. Nine Killer bit his tongue, maintaining his
composure. As a good War Chief should, he ducked through the doorway of the
Weroansqua’s Great House and shouted, “In the presence of Okeus and the
Spirits, the Greenstone Clan bids welcome to the Weroance of Three Myrtle
Village. The great Weroansqua, Hunting Hawk, asks Black Spike, of the Bloodroot
Clan, to enter and share the hospitality of
Flat
Pearl
Village
!”

 
          
Black
Spike ducked through the doorway and strode across the mat floor toward the
main fire. On his heels came High Fox and the warriors. At the fire, Yellow Net
waited. She wore a finely tanned deerskin mantle draped about her left
shoulder, her right breast bare. Firelight shone on her skin, thickly greased
and dyed red with puccoon root. Head held high, she ushered the Weroance back
through the mat dividers into the rear of the house, where important guests
were received.

 
          
At
the first fire, Black Spike’s warriors seated themselves. They watched with
wary black eyes, alert to any hint of treachery. No sooner were they seated
than Hunting Hawk’s slaves carried cups of steaming tea to them, insuring that
each warrior was well treated and made aware of his welcome.

 
          
Nine
Killer followed the reduced entourage past the dividers to the rear chamber.
Here, Hunting Hawk was seated on a raised stump, her closest relatives lining
the sleeping benches to the side. Leaping flames cast yellow light throughout,
occasional sparks rising toward the smoke hole high overhead.

 
          
“Greetings,
Black Spike of the Bloodroot Clan,” Hunting Hawk called. “We welcome Three
Myrtle to our village.” Like the Wergance, she, too, wore a feather mantle
covered in bright-painted bunting feathers. Hers, however, hung down well below
her waist. In her silver hair, she wore a polished copper skewer. She had
greased her skin, and antimony sparkled like stars to distract from her
wrinkles.

 
          
“Greetings,
Weroansqua. I journeyed to
Flat
Pearl
Village
as soon as weather permitted. Your warm
reception of myself, my son, and my warriors is most gracious. I am honored by
your kind invitation.”

 
          
“Oh,
not my invitation, Weroance. Rather, it came from The Panther and my War Chief,
who claim to have made sense of Red Knot’s murder.” She lifted a hand, cutting
the subject short. “But, enough of that for now. You have come far? There is
time to talk of death and killing later. Let us eat and drink. Bring the
Weroance and his men food!” She clapped her hands, and the young girls waiting
along the walls sprang to comply. In token of his prestige and status, Black
Spike would be served by Greenstone clanswomen.

 
          
Black
Spike seated himself in the place of honor, High Fox, still cowed, dropping to
his place beside him. Black Spike frowned, asking, “And where is Shell Comb?
Surely, I would have expected to sec her here.”

 
          
“The
Women’s House, Weroance. But, fear not. Once we lay our problem to rest, I’m
sure you will be staying long enough to enjoy our hospitality. It won’t take
her that long to finish her duties to First Woman.”

 
          
Black
Spike nodded and seemed to relax.

 
          
The
feast began. Freshly roasted deer back strap walnut milk, sweetened pumpkin and
squash, baked turkey, duck, and quail were laid before Black Spike and High
Fox. Black drink in conch shell bowls was handed to them.

 
          
Nine
Killer caught Hunting Hawk’s eye, nodded, and carefully took his leave. He
padded silently through the passageway to the front room, checked to see that
all was in order with Black Spike’s warriors, and ducked out into the
afternoon.

 
          
A
chill had begun to blow down from the north. As he walked toward the House of
the Dead, he could see the first traces of haze. The mist would strengthen
again into a full fog. By nightfall, they’d be unable to see their hands before
their faces. “Is he feasting?” Copper Thunder asked from where he still stood
beside the doorway. “Enjoying
Flat
Pearl
Village
’s hospitality one last time?”

 
          
“One
last time?” Nine Killer missed a step and turned. “I don’t understand your
meaning, Great Tayac.” Copper Thunder made an offhand gesture. “Oh, I don’t
mean much of anything. After all, it would have been just as simple to send a messenger,
don’t you think?

 
          
A
warrior could just as easily say, “All is forgiven, Weroance. The culprit is
discovered, and all is well again. Forgive our silly mistake in believing your
son murdered the girl.” Something like that, don’t you think? Exit bringing him
here?” Copper Thunder shook his head. “I’d smell a trap and stay far away
myself… but then, from what I’ve seen, Black Spike isn’t that smart, is he?”

 
          
Nine
Killer knotted his fists to stem an outburst. “Are you trying to tell me
something?”

 
          
Copper
Thunder stepped forward, dropping his voice below the hearing of his men. “Oh,
I think you know well enough. And, remember: I was out there that morning. I
saw him with my own eyes. That’s what you and the old man have finally
determined through your sniffing around, isn’t it?”

 
          
Nine
Killer tensed, then bid his tight muscles to relax. “You saw him out there?
Doing what?”

 
          
“Trotting
for the trees just before sunup.”

 
          
“And
what else?”

 
          
“He
was carrying something! Maybe a war club.”

 
          
“Can
you identify the club?” Nine Killer lifted a mocking eyebrow, challenging.

 
          
“The
same one he’s carrying now. It’s his, isn’t it? Takes it with him wherever he
goes.”

 
          
“And
what were you doing out there, Great Tayac? It was the last of the night. You
should have been asleep by then.”

 
          
Copper
Thunder smiled thinly. “A man is often sleepless before his wedding night, War
Chief. Or have you forgotten that?”

 
          
“I’ve
forgotten a great many things. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some matters to
attend to.”

 
          
As
Nine Killer turned away, Copper Thunder added, “If you need help subduing him,
my men and I are at your call, War Chief.”

 
          
A
cold shiver crept down Nine Killer’s spine. The way he’d called him “War Chief”
had been filled with derision, as if the man knew something he didn’t.

 
          
He’s
fishing, that’s all. He didn’t know about the war club. It’s all a ruse. But
knowing that made no difference. Something had gone wrong somewhere; Nine
Killer just couldn’t be sure where, or what, and now all of their lives might
depend on it.

 
          
When
Nine Killer entered the House of the Dead, Panther was seated in the
antechamber. On his lap was the blanket Nine Killer had recovered from old man
Mockingbird. The carefully tanned hide was smooth, warm over his stiff knees.
Beside him a large basket rested.

 
          
Sun
Conch crouched over the fire, hands extended to the blaze. Her skin was
greased, a mantle over her left shoulder, but mud spattered her feet and
calves. She looked up, meeting Nine Killer’s hard gaze.

 
          
“We
couldn’t leave before the fog cleared,” she said. “And I’m not sure that Black
Spike would have, had the fog not been so thick. I think he needed to prove
that he was still a Weroance, and not even The Panther could just order him
around.”

 
          
“Foolish
pride,” Panther growled, and ran his fingers over the patterns of peak. He
folded the blanket and laid it carefully over the contents of the basket. “Are
they all eating and drinking?”

 
          
“They
are,” Nine Killer said darkly.

 
          
At
his tone, Panther looked up. “Yes, War Chief?”

 
          
“Elder,
something has changed.” Nine Killer crossed to the fire and stared thoughtfully
down into the flames. “Copper Thunder just volunteered that he’d seen Black
Spike outside the palisade the morning of Red Knot’s death. He said that the
Weroance was carrying his same war club.”

 
          
“He
might just as well have come right out and said that Black Spike killed the
girl.” Panther frowned. “But, why now?”

 
          
“He’s
hunting, Elder. Dangling bait to see what rises to take it.”

 
          
“Oh?”

 
          
“Black
Spike’s war club has a single knob on the end.”

 
          
Panther
grunted, jerking his head in a nod. “Il matters not, War Chief.”

 
          
“Oh?
Isn’t that one of the things we’re missing? A war club with two spikes in it?”

 
          
“Not
anymore.”

 
          
“I
don’t…”

 
          
Panther
grinned. “All in good time, War Chief. It’s safe for the time being. When the
moment is right, I’ll send for it.”

 
          
“Send
for it? Elder I don’t—”

 
          
“Now,
why do you think Copper Thunder would be hunting for information at this late
date?” Panther cocked his head, staring uneasily at Nine Killer.

 
          
“He’s
acting too cocky. Something about the way he talked to me, almost insolent.”

 
          
“That’s
Copper Thunder at any time.”

 
          
“No,
this is more. His tone was insulting.”

 
          
Panther
took a deep breath. The final piece seemed to teeter in his mind, just ready to
fall into place. “So many things have been right before my eyes.” He glanced at
Sun Conch. “Did Stone Cob arrive? Is the old woman with him?”

 
          
“He
did, Elder. He arrived a short time ago.” Sun Conch nodded, then added, “Stone
Cob said he would follow your instructions.” She hesitated. “Elder, Stone Cob
asked if he would be restored to his position of trust after having faithfully
performed this mission.”

 
          
“Will
he, War Chief?” Panther asked, glancing at Nine Killer.

 
          
Nine
Killer scowled at the fire, his hands plucking at the edge of his breech clout
“Trust him as my second? How can I? He ran off and warned Three Myrtle Village
of my raid. I can’t overlook that.”

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