People of the Mist (73 page)

 
          
“The
island?”

 
          
“No,”
he said, and brushed her damp hair away from her face. She opened her eyes and
saw him smile. “I’ll take you home. Your home. When we get there, I think I’ll
have a little discussion with that irritating aunt of yours. I’m releasing you
from your vow. As soon as you’re healed, you’re a free girl again.”

 
          
“But…
you need me.”

 
          
“Yes,
I do,” he said. “More than you know. But I’ll be safe out on my island. It will
make me very happy, though, if you came to visit now and then. Maybe bring me
some squash.”

 
          
Sun
Conch tried to smile, but her lips barely moved before she was fast asleep.

 
          
Thirty-two

 
          
The
Panther waved at Sweet Stick as she passed through the palisade gate. She rode
out into the afternoon sunlight and freedom on that second day of solstice
celebration. She was carried on a deer hide stretcher by four husky young
warriors. Upon being informed of her return to her people, and the
Mamanatowick’s offer of immediate transportation home, she hadn’t waited an
instant.

 
          
Flat
Pearl
Village
bustled. The very earth under his feet
shook with the shuffling stomp of the solstice dancers as they circled the
bonfire to the beat of the pot drum and the shishing rattles of the priests.
Over the singing voices, Panther could just hear Green Serpent’s high wavering
voice as he led the ritual songs that rose to First Man. The words thanked him
for the life he’d given in the last year, and asked that tomorrow morning, he
begin his journey northward across the sky again.

 
          
On
a platform, the statue of Okeus had been placed to watch over the festivities,
his shell eyes gleaming in the slanting sunlight. He looked even more
malevolent than usual, as though seeing into Panther’s soul, and sneering at
the grim truth hidden there.

 
          
Panther
shook his head, his gloom heightened by the sight of Nine Killer working his
way through the knots of visiting warriors. Those who were not dancing with
Flat Pearl Villagers sat about their fires. The War Chief stopped at each,
assuring himself that their needs were met, sharing a joke here and there, and
moving on.

 
          
The
men smiled up at him, often reaching up to clasp” his hand, or to offer a taste
of their food. Was it Panther’s imagination, or did the Guardians smile in the
bright sunlight? The smell of cooking fires and roasting tuckahoe, hominy,
steaming walnut milk carried over the sweeter smell of tobacco shared in
friendship.

 
          
Finally,
the War Chief stepped over to Panther’s side. He looked out over the assemblage
of warriors and dancers, his hands propped on his hips. He wore his feather
cloak over his shoulder, his war club tied onto his breech clout his quiver
over his back, and the famous bow hung unstrung over his shoulder. Not only had
he greased his skin and stained it red with puccoon, but he’d used a dusting of
antimony to add sparkle.

 
          
The
War Chief noted Panther’s lingering gaze, as he watched the old woman disappear
through the gate. “Did High Fox quibble about letting the old woman go?”

 
          
“I
never bothered to ask. I just freed her. Besides, that little weasel owes me.
He lied to me.”

 
          
“One
thing is sure, I’d hate to be the man who crossed you.” Nine Killer glanced
over at the big bonfire. Every once in a while, through the gyrating dancers
and leaping flames, Black Spike’s blackened skull appeared down among the
coals. Within days, it, too, would be consumed to ash.

 
          
Panther
leaned against one of the Guardians, feeling the chill closing around him with
the cool air. “I wanted to thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend
out there. It’s something of a new feeling for me.”

 
          
Nine
Killer unhooked his war club and rested the head between his feet, his alert
eyes on the feasting warriors. After all, this was still a hostile force, and a
great many injuries were being smoothed over for this one special day’s peace.
“You never had a friend? In all of your wanderings?”

 
          
“War
Chief, people are the same everywhere. I was always an outsider, one who never
spoke about his past. No matter where you go, tribes are made from clans, and
clans from lineages, and lineages from families. No one has room for a clan
less man.” How long would it take for High Fox to discover that?

 
          
“You’re
no longer clan less Elder. You’re Sky Fire.”

 
          
When
Panther started to shake his head, Nine Killer added, “And, if you’re not Sky
Fire at that particular moment, you’re Greenstone. By Ohona, I’ll swear to it
on my life.”

 
          
Panther
smiled and clapped the War Chief on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Nine
Killer. I’m happy to share a clan with you.”

 
          
“I
stopped by the long house just a while ago. Rosebud is back. She’s keeping an
eye on Sun Conch in case High Fox tries to return.”

 
          
“I
saw her, too.” Panther felt his good mood drain away. “Sun Conch is mending, I
believe. I’ll have to drain the pus again tomorrow, but the fever’s breaking.”

 
          
He
had talked with Rosebud about the Women’s House, and learned the other dark
facts. He considered telling the War Chief, then realized that Nine Killer was
enjoying himself walking among his old enemies, being pointed out and admired
for his courage.

 
          
No,
keep this to yourself. He smiled. “Did you hear the latest? Copper Thunder and
Water Snake were drinking black drink from the same cup. Hunting Hawk was
gloating over both of them, acting as if she had authority over the whole
world.”

 
          
“He’s
still angry with you.”

 
          
Panther
shrugged. “A man doesn’t forget an injury. I killed his father, enslaved him
and his mother. He has a great deal to hate me for.”

 
          
“I
suppose he does.” Nine Killer paused. “But he and Water Snake and I had a
little talk earlier. For now, Copper Thunder is willing to let bygones be
bygones-especially since you are Sky Fire Clan.”

 
          
“I’m
not Sky Fire, War Chief. I turned my back on them long ago. When I leave here,
and return to my island, I shall be clan less again.”

 
          
“You
are Sky Fire! Leave it at that for now, Elder.” Nine Killer shook his head.
“Honestly, you can be as stubborn as a spring bear on a patch of grass. If
Copper Thunder kills you, Water Snake will be obligated to retaliate. After
all, you’re the clan elder, even if you’re way out in the bay on your little
island. If you leave him alone, he’ll leave you alone. That’s a fair trade.”

 
          
Panther
smiled. “I see. I sense your hand in this. Very well, I suppose it is a fair
trade.”

 
          
Nine
Killer studied him from the corner of his eye. “And, also in fair trade, I
can’t seem to remember a single thing you said to the Mamanatowick this
morning.”

 
          
“About
Warm Fall?”

 
          
“Who?”
Nine Killer asked mildly. “Never heard of her.”

 
          
“Thank
you, Nine Killer.”

 
          
“Yes,
well”—he glanced around—“I’m going to keep visiting, just to insure that no one
forgets that we’re all being friendly while we celebrate solstice together.” He
paused. “It won’t last. Maybe not even for the promised two Comings of the
Leaves.”

 
          
“That
can be a long enough time.” Panther nodded to himself. “And … one never knows.”

 
          
“Indeed,
one never knows.” Nine Killer walked on, nodding to warriors here and there.

 
          
Panther
rearranged his old blanket, patted the Guardian affectionately, and ducked into
the House of the Dead. The grimness—ameliorated briefly by Nine Killer’s
presence —resettled around his heart.

 
          
As
he passed down the narrow hallway, he touched each of the Guardians. In the
god’s sanctuary, he found her. She was sitting, looking up at the newest of the
mat covered bundles that rested on the platform over Okeus’ empty seat.

 
          
Despite
the removal of the god, Panther could feel him there in the shadows, watching.
Those shell eyes gleamed in the imagination. The war club, with strands of Red
Knot’s hair still stuck in the stone settings, was gripped menacingly in his
right hand. Hollow laughter echoed just beyond human hearing.

 
          
“Here
you are, in Okeus’ place. The two of you are a great deal alike,” Panther said
quietly. “Each of you is dark and chaotic. A matched pair if I ever saw one.”

 
          
She
never turned, but watched the bundled corpse as if seeing through the wrapping
to the girl who had once embodied those carefully cleaned bones.

 
          
Panther
stepped forward and eased himself down beside her. “Why didn’t you stop him?
You needed but to speak.”

 
          
Shell
Comb barely shrugged. “I couldn’t.”

 
          
“I’m
not very bright about such things, but a man who loved you that much deserved
better.”

 
          
Again,
Shell Comb barely shrugged. “He was braver than I was. He was always braver. I
was the coward. I was the one who always panicked and did crazy things.”

 
          
“What
happened between you and Monster Bone?”

 
          
“An
injury.”

 
          
“Did
Black Spike sire all of your children?”

 
          
Her
mouth worked. “My oldest boy, I think he was Monster Bone’s. And Grebe, I’m
sure he was. Then Monster Bone was hit during a battle. His penis wouldn’t
stiffen. It drove him half mad to lie with me at night and nothing would
happen. The first time Black Spike planted a child inside me, I tricked Monster
Bone into believing he’d actually done it. The child was stillborn. That’s when
we started fighting all the time. I think … well, I drove him to it. I mocked
him when I shouldn’t have.”

 
          
“And
then you realized you were pregnant with High Fox?”

 
          
She
gave him the briefest of nods. “So Black Spike took me north. His wife
suspected. Insisted on going with us. I used a leather sack to smother her. Not
a mark on her. Black Spike thought she’d just died. I don’t think be suspected
my hand in it. I gave birth to High Fox, but I couldn’t give him up and leave
him with those horrible people. I couldn’t stand the thought that he’d be
raised Susquehannock. That someday he might come paddling down the bay at the
head of a group of warriors and make war on me, his own mother.”

 
          
“So
you hid your arrival and burned Monster Bone to death in your long house She
nodded. “He was better off dead. It was the easy way, don’t you see? Had I
divorced him, people would have learned that his manhood was broken.” Her eyes
flashed then. “I did him a favor!”

 
          
Panther
sighed wearily. “All that time, Black Spike covered it up. Or, did he help you
set his brother on fire?”

 
          
“No.
I did that. He couldn’t… wouldn’t.” She shrugged again. “I was just waiting,
you see. As soon as Mother died, I would be Weroansqua and I would marry him.
But Mother just lived, and lived, and lived…” Shell Comb knotted a fist.
“Sometimes I think she will never die!”

 
          
“Even
then, you’d never have married him.”