“Your dedication surprises me, Elder,” she said. “If you hadn’t made several stops, you might have beaten me back and shamed me before my people.”
Stone Ghost’s cheap pottery-disk necklaces clicked as he hobbled forward, a warm smile on his ancient face. Soot streaked the front of his threadbare green shirt. “And terrified your war chief, I fear.”
Browser wiped his hands on his buckskin cape. A thin layer of ash coated his flat nose and bushy eyebrows. He smiled at Catkin. “Yes. I would have imagined my finest warrior dead.”
Stone Ghost gave Catkin a sympathetic look, apparently sensing how Browser’s soft tone must have affected her. “Now that you are present, we may begin. I wish you to assist me.”
She stepped forward. “What is it you require, Elder?”
Stone Ghost took her hand and dragged her toward the foot
drum where Whiproot rested. “I wish you to be a witness, child. Just watch and remember.”
“Of course,” she said, but wondered why he needed her when there were five other witnesses in the kiva.
Catkin glanced at Browser, and Browser walked to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. He moved in a bone-weary manner. Dark circles swelled beneath his eyes, and his breathing had fallen into the deep tortured rhythms of exhaustion.
Catkin whispered, “You need rest, War Chief.”
He shook his head.
Did he still have trouble walking into his own chamber? The memories of his beautiful dead son must haunt his sleep. What did he dream of his wife? Did he dream of her at all?
“When we are finished here, I am going to relieve Jackrabbit. I will be standing guard,” she said softly. “Rest in my chamber.”
He bowed his head as if thankful she understood. “I will. Thank you.”
Stone Ghost gently pulled the blanket from Whiproot’s corpse and said, “Please come forward, Elders. There are several things I wish to show you.”
The Elders whispered among themselves, then Flame Carrier rose and the others fell into line behind her. They filed over and formed a half-circle around Browser, Stone Ghost, and Catkin. Browser backed away allowing the Elders a closer view and leaned against the red northeastern pillar. Springbank took his place at Whiproot’s feet, his old eyes squinted.
Firelight fluttered over the katsina masks on the wall lighting carved beaks and bared teeth, feathered headdresses and fur-shrouded faces. Catkin had the uncanny feeling that they, too, watched, and with an unnatural interest.
“First,” Stone Ghost said and tugged on Whiproot’s rigid arm, “I wish you to notice the stiffness of the body. Stiffness usually develops within two hands of time after death, and disappears within twelve hands of time.” He turned to Catkin. “How long has it been since this warrior’s murder?”
Catkin hesitated, silently calculating the interval. “At least twelve hands, Elder. Perhaps thirteen.”
Stone Ghost nodded. “Heavily muscled people, especially those
who die fighting, often remain stiff longer than normal. On the other hand, very slight individuals who die in their sleep may never develop much stiffness. Heat and cold affect this pattern somewhat. So.” He looked at Browser. “Forgive me for asking, Nephew, but I must. Was your wife stiff when you found her?”
Browser’s shoulder muscles bulged through his cape. In a tortured voice he said, “Yes, Uncle.”
“How long had she been missing?”
“Two days.”
Murmurs broke out. Stone Ghost lifted a hand to silence them. “Then your wife was not killed the first night she was gone. She had probably been dead less than twelve hands of time when Flame Carrier found her in your son’s burial pit.”
Catkin folded her arms, listening, not certain why this was important.
Stone Ghost smoothed wispy white hair from his wrinkled face and tucked it behind his ears, then held his hands out to Browser. “Did you notice cuts or bruises on her hands, Nephew?”
Browser shifted against the red pillar. “No. Why?”
Stone Ghost’s hands flashed, cutting the air, as if warding off blows. “When a person fights for his life, he gets injured in the process. For example”—He lifted Whiproot’s left hand. One of the fingers had been nearly severed. It hung down over the gashed, bloody palm—“I assume that this warrior was right-handed, and holding a weapon in it because he used his left hand to fend off his attacker’s knife. That is also why we have cuts on the outside of his forearm.”
Catkin’s breathing went shallow. She whispered, “He was right-handed.”
Browser said nothing, and Catkin could tell from his haunted expression that his thoughts had riveted on Ash Girl, probably asking the same questions as everyone else in the chamber: Why hadn’t Ash Girl defended herself? Had her murderer taken her from behind? Perhaps she’d known the murderer and let him get close enough to kill her before she realized what was happening?
Stone Ghost hobbled to Whiproot’s head. “Next I wish you to examine the bruises beneath the blood around this warrior’s mouth.”
“Bruises?” Browser said, astonished. He shoved away from the pillar. “I did not see those last night.”
“It was dark, War Chief,” Catkin said. “Even when we carried him in here, Jackrabbit stood at the foot of the stairs with the torch. The dim light probably hid many things from our view.”
Stone Ghost’s brows lowered. “Nephew? Did you not tell me that you thought this warrior had been dazed by a blow to the head, then stabbed, and forced to back into the Sunwatcher’s chamber, where he fought to protect her?”
Browser nodded. “Yes.”
With great care Stone Ghost tipped Whiproot onto his side and pulled blood-stiff black hair away from the rear of his head, revealing the gashed scalp and split skull. Catkin could see the brain inside.
The Elders gasped, and Flame Carrier reached for Cloudblower’s arm for support. She whispered, “Blessed gods.”
Stone Ghost looked at the Elders one by one. “Which of you imagines that Whiproot could have fought off an attacker after such a blow? This wound was not administered with a war club, but a stone hatchet.”
The Elders pushed each other to get closer. Flame Carrier looked at Browser. She did not utter a word but her eyes accused him of missing the obvious.
Browser said, “He was struck after he was stabbed.”
“Long after, Nephew.” Stone Ghost let the clump of hair drop. “I suspect he was not quite dead, and the murderer wished to hurry him along. More interesting, though, are the bruises around his mouth. We will know more after he has been washed and prepared, but if you look closely, they appear to be fingerprints.”
Catkin could feel the blood draining from her head, leaving her floating on a tide of shock. Her souls pictured the night, imagined it all happening …
Her eyes met Browser’s like a clash of war clubs.
She said, “Someone was holding him—”
Browser finished, “—while someone else stabbed him.”
Cloudblower let out a small cry and backed away. Her white dress and the silver strands in her braids gleamed yellowish in the fire’s glow.
Stone Ghost watched Cloudblower like a coyote at a mouse hole.
“Oh, gods,” Cloudblower murmured. Her triangular face flushed and tears sparkled in her slanting eyes. “I—I thought I could stop—” her mouth hung open as if afraid to finish. Then she said, “She tried to t-tell me.”
Flame Carrier shouted, “Who did?”
Cloudblower looked straight into Browser’s haunted eyes, then ran from the chamber. Her sandals clacked on the stairs and across the altar room above.
Flame Carrier swung around to Browser. “War Chief, what did she mean?”
“I do not know, Matron! This is the first I have heard of it!”
“Then go after her, and find out!”
Browser bowed obediently and hurried for the stairs.
While Flame Carrier, Springbank, and Wading Bird shouted questions at each other, Stone Ghost took Catkin by the hand and led her away from the Elders. He stopped in the fluttering torch light at the foot of the stairs. His brows arched, silently questioning her.
Catkin whispered, “I’m not certain. Hophorn. I think. It must have been …”
“CLOUD BLOWER, WAIT!”
Browser’s buckskin cape flapped around his long legs as he ran across the sunlit plaza after her.
Cloudblower ducked beneath her painted leather door curtain and disappeared. The curtain swung.
Jackrabbit, who stood guard on the roof above, gave Browser a puzzled look and nervously glanced around as if fearing some other disaster might befall him.
Browser called, “All is well, Jackrabbit, but stay vigilant.”
“Yes, War Chief!” Jackrabbit clutched his war club in both hands.
High on the fifth story near the cliff face, Browser saw Skink and Water Snake put their heads together and talk in low voices. Sunlight burned across the towering sandstone wall behind them and lit the shoulders of their hide capes. Browser could feel the tension rising.
He trotted for Cloudblower’s door and stood outside shifting from one foot to the other.
“Come, War Chief,” Cloudblower whispered.
Browser ducked under the door curtain into the dim chamber. Larger than most, this chamber stretched three body lengths by five. The warming bowl in the middle of the floor threw a dull reddish gleam over the katsina masks hanging from the white walls. Furred muzzles with sharp teeth shone. Dark hollow eyes peered at him.
Cloudblower’s white dress flashed in the shadowed rear of the chamber, but he couldn’t make out her face yet. A pile of bedding hides and baskets lined the western wall to Browser’s right. To his left black-and-white pots, filled with blue corn, red-and-white speckled beans, and pumpkin seeds, sat in a clump. As Browser’s eyes adjusted, he saw Cloudblower cradling Hophorn in her arms. She had her lips pressed against Hophorn’s hair. Hophorn wore a long brown dress and badgerhide leggings. The patch of hair where Cloudblower had opened her skull had gone white, as though the roots had been starved and died.
“B-Browsser,” Hophorn stammered and reached out to him.
Browser hurried around the warming bowl and crouched beside Hophorn. She sat on a thick pile of buffalo and elk hides. Hophorn looked gaunt. Her broad cheekbones stuck out sharply, making her small nose and full lips seem larger. Long curling lashes fringed her enormous eyes, but fear walked in those black depths.
Browser took Hophorn’s hand and held it gently. “Are you well, Hophorn?”
Hophorn tried to nod, but it came out a jittery side-to-side movement. “H-helllp. Me.”
Browser glanced at Cloudblower, and the Healer squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. Browser did not know whether Cloudblower was signaling him not to ask or telling him she didn’t understand the plea either.
Browser forced himself to smile, hoping it would reassure Hophorn. “I will help you in any way I can, Hophorn. You know this. You have only to ask.”
Hophorn gazed up at him with her whole wounded heart in her glistening eyes. She struggled to say, “C-commming. Ssstop. Them.”
“Who is coming?”
“T-Two. The … two.”
Browser clutched her hand more tightly. Every muscle in his body prickled. Insistently he said, “Who are they, Hophorn? I must know.”
“T-Two.” Her strength seemed to fail her. She sank back into Cloudblower’s arms, trembling. “C-Coming.” Tears traced silver lines down her cheeks.
Browser looked imploringly at Cloudblower. “What does she mean?”
Cloudblower bowed her head and her long gray and black braids mingled with Hophorn’s jet black hair. “She keeps repeating the same words about ‘the two’ coming. I didn’t understand until Stone Ghost was explaining the bruises on Whiproot’s mouth.”
Browser laid Hophorn’s hand on her chest and said, “It makes no sense. How could she know the murderers are coming?”
Cloudblower said, “I’m not certain she knows what she’s saying. She may mean she
fears
they are coming, Browser, not that she knows they are coming. The past five days have been horrifying for her. She—”
“For all of us, Cloudblower.” Browser slumped to the floor and ran a hand through his smoke-scented hair. “Gods, I am more confused now than when my wife was first killed. What did you think of the things Stone Ghost said about her death? The stiffness of her body? The fact that she did not defend herself? I—”
Hophorn leaned her head against Cloudblower’s shoulder, but her gaze remained on Browser, her eyes huge, unblinking, as if anxious for him to say or do something.
“War Chief, your uncle was asking questions, not stating facts. There are many explanations for the things he noted.”
He frowned at Cloudblower. “What? Tell me?”
“Perhaps your wife ran for a day, or—or she may have been sitting praying for a day before he found her. She was strong, Browser, but she was also alone and tired. She would have been easy prey.” In a strained voice, Cloudblower added, “Especially if there really were two of them.”