People of the Mist (69 page)

 
          
Quick
Fawn nodded, head lowered to avoid the hostile glares of her aunt and mother.

 
          
“You
can’t seriously mean one of the girls killed her!” Copper Thunder laughed and
slapped his knees with his hands.

 
          
“No.”
Panther took a deep breath. “Just around the corner of the House of the Dead,
back in the shadows, a man and woman were coupling. They overheard every word.
It upset them so much that they argued after the girls left. So heated was the
disagreement that the man forgot his blanket. Old man Mockingbird found it the
next morning.” Panther nodded to Green Serpent.

 
          
The
priest lifted the folded blanket from the basket, and opened it to expose the
distinctive pattern of peak shells. The deer seemed to dance in the firelight.

 
          
Black
Spike sprang to his feet, face ashen. “You stole that!” He whirled, face livid,
pointing at Hunting Hawk. “This is your doing, you filthy old bitch! Well, I
won’t have it!”

 
          
“Enough!”
Copper Thunder roared, leaping to his feet and grasping Black Spike’s arms from
behind. For a moment, they wrestled, teetering for balance. Black Spike might
have had a chance but for his healing arm. Then Copper Thunder’s thick muscles
corded and literally bent Black Spike back to the bench. High Fox leaped out of
the way as the Great Tayac pinned Black Spike in place.

 
          
Spittle
wetted Black Spike’s chin as he struggled against the iron grip.

 
          
Panther
said softly, “Shell Comb told me that everything was done for the clan. And so
it was. All done for the clan.” He paused, and added, “Mistakes had to be paid
for.”

 
          
Shell
Comb had trouble focusing her eyes, as if seeing beyond a great distance. Her
expression was slack, lips parted, as if in disbelief.

 
          
Panther
lifted Red Knot’s skull, tapping her peg like incisor with a thumb nail.
“Anyone who looks will see that Red Knot’s tooth is malformed. Exactly like
yours, Black Spike. And, I regret to say, exactly like High Fox’s. Both of your
children have the same malformed tooth, Weroance. They got it from you.”

 
          
For
the briefest instant, Black Spike met Shell Comb’s horrified stare, and his
love for her lit his eyes, along with pain and resignation. He smiled, as if
reassuring her. Then he glanced at his son, started to reach out, as if to
touch him.

 
          
High
Fox gaped, mouth working silently, as he tried to comprehend the information.
He shrank back from his father’s hand, swallowing hard as the horror began to
sink in.

 
          
Black
Spike pulled his hand back, straightened, and said, “I did it. It is my fault.
I killed the girl. That was Shell Comb and me out there, locked together,
rutting as we always had. I overheard that conversation. I said I was going to
stop them. Shell Comb told me to wait, that she would talk Red Knot out of
doing this forbidden thing.”

 
          
“Is
that when you argued?” Panther asked.

 
          
“Yes.
She pulled away from me.” Black Spike seemed to nerve himself, his eyes
clearing as he bravely committed himself.

 
          
“No!”
Shell Comb hissed, fists clenched. She started forward, but Hunting Hawk tapped
her on the shoulder with her walking stick. Shell Comb stopped as if struck,
watching Black Spike with a glassy-eyed, stunned stare. High Fox was making
strangling sounds, as if choking.

 
          
“Shell
Comb couldn’t find the girl,” Black Spike insisted. “She was frantic. So, I
made up my mind. I went into the House of the Dead, knowing the god would have a
weapon. With it, I sneaked out, ran to the ridgetop, and arrived just in time
to stop Red Knot.” He closed his eyes and tears leaked down his cheeks. “I
didn’t mean to kill her, but she wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t believe me when I
told her that High Fox was her brother. She just laughed. And … and something
let loose inside me and I hit her. I—” “Father?” High Fox clutched at the empty
air in front of him, as though reaching for something only he could see. “Red
Knot? She’s … she’s …”

 
          
“Now
it makes sense,” Panther said dismally. “Reason and desperation—acting together
to motivate murder: Both High Fox and Red Knot sprang from Shell Comb’s womb,
both planted by Black Spike’s seed.” Panther raised pained eyes. “Weroansqua,
High Fox and Red Knot are both Greenstone Clam”

 
          
“Incest!”
Hunting Hawk hissed. “Incest!”

 
          
“No!”
High Fox howled, shrinking back, and huddling in on himself. “I didn’t do that!
I didn’t!”

 
          
A
rumbling of voices broke out from the other side of the divider and rolled the
length of the Great House. Hunting Hawk sat as if riven by lightning. Shell
Comb might have been frozen, her glazed eyes locked on the miserable Black
Spike.

 
          
Nine
Killer shook his head, his senses swimming with the import of what he’d just
heard. Incest! The most horrible of crimes!

 
          
“What…
what do I do with you?” Hunting Hawk asked when her shock finally began to ebb.
“You, and your demon-spawned child?”

 
          
Black
Spike filled his lungs, muscles tense as if in final preparation. He gave Shell
Comb a pleading look, then stated calmly, “My son is innocent. He didn’t know.
I killed your granddaughter, Weroansqua. To save my son, I offer myself in Red
Knot’s place.” He turned, seeing his warriors as they crowded into the doorway.
“You men! Back down! I order you! I do this freely! There must be no vengeance
from Three Myrtle!”

 
          
“No!”
Shell Comb said in a strangled voice. “What are you doing? Why are you doing
this—”

 
          
“I
killed her!” Black Spike interrupted. “I accept the responsibility, Shell Comb.
I could not allow them to mate, to be married in incest. They had to be
stopped!”

 
          
“Take
him!” Hunting Hawk snapped. “Build up the fire in the plaza. Break his arms and
legs … and burn him!”

 
          
High
Fox dropped his face in his hands, and sobbed. “I didn’t know! He lied to me!
His own son … he lied! It’s not my fault]”

 
          
“I’ll
decide what to do with you later,” Hunting Hawk growled at High Fox.

 
          
Nine
Killer nodded to Flying Weir, who stepped forward. Copper Thunder refused to
relinquish his grip on Black Spike, and together, Copper Thunder and Flying
Weir rushed the doomed Weroance through the doorway, shaking the frame and
rattling the matting. A path opened before them as they made their way down the
crowded Great House.

 
          
“Wait!”
The Panther’s cry was drowned in the chaos.

 
          
“My
warriors!” Black Spike screamed. “Do nothing! Keep the peace! I did this! I will
pay!”

 
          
Blood
and dung! Incest! The very thought of it left him reeling and sick to his
stomach. Nine Killer nerved himself as he followed in their wake. He would
bethe man who broke Black Spike’s arms and legs. That responsibility fell on
the War Chief.

 
          
Duty
and clan honor demanded no less from him. If not for justice, he’d do it for
Red Knot, for a murdered clanswoman.

 
          
“War
Chief, wait!” Panther called from behind him. “A word please. This isn’t—”

 
          
“Not
now, Elder! Please!” Didn’t the old man know that it was hard enough to do this
without other distractions? Nine Killer rudely shoved his memories aside:
images of him and Black Spike on the war trail; feasting side by side, joking;
the shared hunts; and nights on the bay, a fire in the center of the canoe, and
their spears in hand as they gigged fish rising to the firelight.

 
          
“How
did it go so wrong, Black Spike?” Nine Killer muttered under his breath. His
stomach knotted and cramped at the thought. Incest! Loathed by the gods, it had
almost stained Greenstone Clan, its corruption leaching into his own family.
But to kill? He couldn’t make himself believe that Black Spike had murdered the
girl. Couldn’t he have found another way?

 
          
But
then, as The Panther has been trying to tell you, people will always surprise
you with their darker sides. Black Spike was practically bragging that he’d
done the foul deed. How did a man argue with that? And, as the Creation stories
told them, people were descended from Okeus. The sickening settled in his soul.

 
          
Panther
was pulling at his arm from behind. “War Chief, I must tell you—”

 
          
“Elder,
leave me alone! We’ll talk later!” He shook off the old man’s hand, and then
lost him in the jostling crowd of elbows and shoving bodies as they ducked out
into the darkness. Copper Thunder and Flying Weir dragged the struggling Black
Spike across the plaza. Arouhd them, the mist swirled as if alive, churning
with the very breath of the dark god. The shadowed Guardians watched ominously,
their face’s obscured by night and fog. How quickly it happened. People
materialized out of the mist, casting logs, branches, and kindling into the
blackened ceremonial fire pit.

 
          
Nine
Killer stood anxiously beside Flying Weir as he and Copper Thunder restrained
Black Spike. The Wero ance had begun to sag. Someone appeared with a ceramic
pot full of glowing coals and cast them upon the heap of wood. More people
followed, throwing coals from their fires onto the growing pyramid of wood.

 
          
“Okeus,
help me,” Black Spike whispered as the flames turned the mist into a blazing
halo of yellow light.

 
          
Flying
Weir, too, looked sick, his eyes glassy with distaste at holding such a vile
being as Black Spike. His jaw was clamped, as if he was determined to do his
duty.

 
          
Nine
Killer could see Copper Thunder’s tattooed face. He was grinning, evil gleaming
in his hungry eyes.

 
          
Stone
Cob stepped up to Nine Killer, handing him his old battered war club. The
familiar handle felt wrong for this night’s terrible work.

 
          
Nine
Killer lifted the sturdy weapon with both hands as his grip tightened on the
leather-wrapped handle. I don’t want to do this! But he would have to, as he’d
had to in the past. Copper Thunder and Flying Weir would hold Black Spike, or
throw him down. Nine Killer would strike, swinging his war club around in an
arc. At the impact, he’d feel as well as hear the snap. His own bones would
cringe.

 
          
Black
Spike was my friend… my friend… Even after the Weroance’s confession, some
stubborn part of him refused to believe. It vied with the rising horror that
curdled his blood. Incest! High Fox had lain with Red Knot! Better to pitch the
youth onto the fire himself, cleanse the entire ugly thing, here and now. He
nerved himself, aware that the fire had caught, a rush of sparks whirling into
the murky air. “War Chief?” Panther called anxiously as he stalked across the
plaza. “You must hear me!”

 
          
Nine
Killer took a deep breath, turning to face the old man. “Make it quick, I’ve
enough …”

 
          
Shell
Comb rushed up, hair tangled, eyes frantic, like those of a trapped animal. She
knocked people aside, and threw herself at Flying Weir, screaming, “No! Don’t
do this thing! It wasn’t him! Black Spike didn’t do it!”

 
          
As
she clawed at Flying Weir, Black Spike twisted his arm loose, balled a fist,
and struck Copper Thunder full in the face. The Great Tayac jerked away, and
Black Spike pulled free.

 
          
Before
Nine Killer could react, Black Spike shouted, “I killed her! I’ll pay!” He took
one last look at Shell Comb, and leapt into the center of the roaring fire.