People of the Mist (67 page)

 
          
“I…
Yes, yes, Crab Spine! Ask Crab Spine! He was sitting beside me the whole time.”

 
          
Nine
Killer’s certainty fled. “He’s a good man. A solid warrior, Weroansqua. If Crab
Spine says this is so, then Flat Willow didn’t do this thing.” He paused. “Many
Dogs, go and check with Crab Spine.”

 
          
Many
Dogs regretfully released his hold on Flat Willow and left as Streaked Bear
entered with several decorated leather sacks. He stepped around Flat Willow and
handed them to The Panther.

 
          
Panther
quickly sorted through the medicines, finding what he needed. Placing grease in
a bowl, he mixed a weak salve of crushed nightshade leaves, saying, “Sun Conch,
I’m rubbing this on your temples. It will ease the pain, make you sleep
better.”

 
          
“Thank…
thank you,” she whispered.

 
          
He
applied the green paste using a flattened reed. Then he mixed the crushed
smartweed with grease, smeared it on the cactus pads, and tied it over her
wounds, insuring that the binding wasn’t too tight. That finished, he leaned
back and sighed wearily.

 
          
“Will
she be all right?” Hunting Hawk asked.

 
          
Panther
shrugged, expression solemn. “That is for the future, Weroansqua. For now, all
I can tell you is that I have done what I can. If it festers, I will attempt to
drain it.”

 
          
“What
about searing the flesh?” Green Serpent asked.

 
          
“Not
an arrow wound like this.” Panther rubbed his callused hands, trying to scrub
the dried blood from them. “Burning seals the wound. Poisons and evil can’t
escape.”

 
          
Many
Dogs ducked through the doorway, a grim look on his face. When all eyes turned
to him, he said, “Crab Spine tells me that Flat Willow was indeed sitting
beside him at the time when Sun Conch was shot.”

 
          
Nine
Killer glared at Flat Willow. “Very well, hunter, you can go. But I don’t—”

 
          
“Not
yet, War Chief.” Hunting Hawk looked like her namesake, a predatory bird, its
attention centered on its prey. “Flat
Willow
, you said you were there at the Great
Tayeks will? Watching the Three Myrtle men?”

 
          
He
nodded, enough overcome with relief to forget his caution. “Yes, Weroansqua. He
told me to—”

 
          
“You
are through!” she snapped. “You will gather your things and be gone. You have
no place in this village. I am Weroansqua here, and you are under my authority.
Get your louse-ridden body out of my village. Tonight! And, Flat Willow, if any
of my warriors see you in my territory again, they are to kill you for the
vermin you are.”

 
          
“But,
Weroansqua, where will I—”

 
          
“I
don’t care! Maybe the Great Tayac will take you in, eh?” She pointed with her
sassafras stick. “Now, be gone! Or I’ll have your legs and arms broken, and
we’ll throw you on the fire!”

 
          
“Weroansqua,
the Great Tayac—”

 
          
“Is
the reason you’re going to live, boy! But for him, you’d be burning and
screaming in half a hand’s time!”

 
          
Flat
Willow
squared his shoulders, and headed for the
doorway, but his knees were shaking as he ducked out.

 
          
Nine
Killer picked at the blood that had clotted around his fingernails. “I think
that is good riddance.”

 
          
Hunting
Hawk snorted displeasure. “He wasn’t that good a hunter anyway.” She bent her
flinty gaze on Nine Killer. “He’s not the only one whose loyalty has become
suspect.”

 
          
Nine
Killer felt a chill filter through his bones. He rose to his feet, stepping
over to meet her angry stare. “If you are dissatisfied with me, you may dismiss
me at any time, Weroansqua.”

 
          
Before
the old woman could open her mouth, The Panther said, “That’s enough. Strained
passions can give voice to bitter words that aren’t meant, but can’t be
recalled.” He pulled himself painfully to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in
his joints. “Come, I think we should all bring this to a close.” He glanced
down at Sun Conch with a wounded expression. “Assuming I can make it to the
Great House this time, we’ll have the truth of it.”

 
          
Nine
Killer looked the Weroansqua in the eyes, and she lowered her gaze, growling to
herself as she hobbled for the doorway.

 
          
Panther
folded his arms across his chest as he seated himself on the bench that lined
the Weroansqua’s inner chamber, the heart of Greenstone Clan. The room was
packed, hot and stifling despite the misty chill outside. The big fire crackled
and popped, sending sparks toward the rafters with their hanging baskets.

 
          
“I
suppose this is it,” Nine Killer said. He’d been closemouthed since his hot
words with Hunting Hawk.

 
          
“Indeed,
War Chief.” Panther steepled his old fingers, aware that he hadn’t been able to
scrub Sun Conch’s blood away. Half of his soul lingered with her.

 
          
All
this blood, and every drop of it spilled by youngsters.

 
          
Next
to Nine Killer sat Green Serpent, and then Lightning Cat with his basket.
Streaked Bear stood beside the matting at the far end of the room. Flying Weir
hovered nervously by the door, his war club in hand.

 
          
On
the opposite bench, Black Spike sat, head bowed. High Fox was at his side, his
eyes half-wild with anxiety. And well they should be. His life might still be
forfeit.

 
          
Copper
Thunder was next, searching each face like a wolf on a blood trail.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk glared angrily at everyone from her hide-draped stump at the back. To her
right, Shell Comb’s place remained conspicuously empty, awaiting her return
from the Women’s House. To her right sat an expressionless Yellow Net. Next to
her, Quick Fawn, clearly uneasy, tried to find something to do with her anxious
hands, but ended up just twisting the hem of her deer hide mantle.

 
          
Beyond
the divider, in the main room, people crowded to hear. No wonder an assailant
could steal Flat Willow’s arrow. Everyone in the village was packed into the
Great House, waiting to hear about Red Knot’s killing. The building almost
shook from the babble of voices. In fact, Panther could feel the walls
trembling as bodies brushed against them.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk glanced this way and that, then raised her sassafras stick, jabbing at the
air. “Silence!” she called. “I want silence!”

 
          
Nine
Killer stood and bellowed, “The Weroansqua calls for silence!”

 
          
The
din faded into a sudden stillness. Nine Killer glanced around, satisfied that
order had been restored, and seated himself.

 
          
“All
right,” Hunting Hawk said, tapping the matting at her feet with the sassafras
stick. “As you all know, my granddaughter Red Knot was murdered less than ten
days ago. At the time, we thought it was High Fox who did it.”

 
          
She
glared at the young warrior, and he swallowed hard, trying to sink back against
the wall.

 
          
“It
may have been ill advised, but we sent our warriors to bring him back.” She turned
her attention to Black Spike. “If that was a mistake, I apologize to the
Weroance, and to
Three
Myrtle
Village
. But we had been told that High Fox might
have been the killer. Sometimes people lose sense when a relative is
senselessly murdered.”

 
          
“.I
understand,” Black Spike said graciously. And he flashed Hunting Hawk a warm
and forgiving smile.

 
          
Panther
craned his head, staring at Black Spike with unabashed interest. Black Spike
noticed, and his smile faded.

 
          
Hunting
Hawk continued, “It so happened that the man known as The Panther arrived and
stopped the fighting, offering instead to determine exactly who killed my
granddaughter. Wishing to avoid hostilities with our good friends—and
especially with kin—the Weroance and I agreed to let The Panther try. Now we
are in this place to hear what he has learned.”

 
          
She
gave Panther a narrow-eyed look, as if daring him to disappoint her.

 
          
Panther
rose to his feet and stepped before the fire. The flames threw his shadow on
the back wall like a leaping monster. “Weroansqua, I think that everything will
come clear tonight. But first, you must humor me to recite the facts as I know
them.”

 
          
“I
don’t allow people much humor, Elder.” Hunting Hawk gave him a sour squint.

 
          
“In
this case, I fear you will have to.” Panther clasped his hands together. “You
see, Red Knot’s murder isn’t just a simple matter of taking a life. For that,
we might depend on war, or vengeance, or even punishment for a crime. No, this
is a different matter, for Red Knot wasn’t killed as part of a raid, or
vendetta. Her death was an act of desperation.” He gave Hunting Hawk a bitter
smile. “And therein, Weroansqua, lies the crucial difference.”

 
          
The
room was totally silent, the only sound that of the crackling fire.

 
          
“How
does a person become this desperate?” Panther raised an eyebrow. “Young Red
Knot was in love with

 
          
High
Fox. So much in love that she flouted the rules of her family and clan, freely
coupling with the young man.”

 
          
Flying
Weir started, then glared at High Fox.

 
          
Panther
studied Hunting Hawk for a moment, curious at her lack of reaction. Not at the
accusation—she’d heard it the day Panther had faced Copper Thunder—but at the
public statement before witnesses. So, apparently the Weroansqua knew, or at
least suspected. “The clan is everything,” he quoted. “And Greenstone Clan was
in trouble. Copper Thunder had united the upriver villages, controlling the
trade. The Mamanatowick had begun to put new pressure on the Independent
villages. The balance had been upset.”

 
          
Copper
Thunder laughed and crossed his arms, a smug look on his face.

 
          
“Oh,
Grass Mat,” Panther chided. “I wouldn’t be so sure of myself, were I you.” He
gave Hunting Hawk a knowing glance. “You thought to have it all your way,
didn’t you, Weroansqua? Red Knot was becoming a problem, following in her
mother’s tracks. What better way to rid yourself of a potential embarrassment
than by-“

 
          
“I
didn’t kill the girl!” Hunting Hawk had fire in her eyes.

 
          
With
aplomb Panther said, “I didn’t say that you did.”

 
          
“But
you …” Hunting Hawk snapped her mouth shut, glaring. “I was going to say, what
better way to rid yourself of a potential embarrassment, than by marrying her
off to Copper Thunder. It was a master stroke. Cunning old fox that you are,
you would thus sting the Mamanatowick into action. Copper Thunder scared you,
didn’t he? Here was a new dynamic leader upsetting the old balance-and right
downriver from him lay the Independent villages. But there was a clever way to
eliminate that threat, wasn’t there?”

 
          
“What?”
Hunting Hawk scowled irritably at him.