B
ROWSER LOOKED OUT AT CATKIN AND STONE GHOST. The ruined wall behind them resembled a patchwork of red stone and crumbling plaster. Only the First People’s kiva, to Browser’s left, gleamed with fresh plaster and paint. Strings of red spirals ran around the circumference at the top and bottom of the white ceremonial chamber.
Catkin stood tall, her broad shoulders squared, her face unreadable.
Stone Ghost gave Browser a grandfatherly smile and gestured to the door curtain. “Will the Healer allow us to enter, Nephew?”
Cloudblower called, “Yes. Please, come.”
Browser stepped aside, and Stone Ghost hobbled by him into the sage-scented dimness. His white hair gleamed reddish as he passed the warming bowl and went to sit down on a deerhide to Cloudblower’s right. The light shone on his long hooked nose and thick white brows. His green shirt showed through the holes in his mangy turkey-feather cape.
Browser continued to hold the curtain aside, but Catkin did not enter. He cocked his head, silently asking why, and she took a step backward, as if she feared to enter the Healer’s chamber.
Catkin said, “I promised to relieve Jackrabbit, War Chief. If you need me, that is where I will be.”
Browser examined her stiff expression, and an uneasy sensation curdled his stomach. “Very well. I will find you when we are done, and tell you what passed here.”
Catkin said, “Until then,” and strode toward the pole ladder to the roof.
Browser let the curtain drop. Cloudblower sat with her head
bowed, as if unwilling to meet Stone Ghost’s keen old eyes. The fringes across the breast of her white dress trembled.
Stone Ghost waited, his knotted hands in his lap.
Browser said, “Thank you for what you revealed in the kiva, Uncle. I am grateful for your help.”
Stone Ghost smiled, and stuck a finger through one of the holes in his cape, as if he’d never seen it before. “And you, Healer, what did you think of my words?”
“You did not come here to ask me that, Elder,” she said softly.
“No,” Stone Ghost answered. “I came to ask you what it was you could not stop and what Hophorn tried to tell you.”
Cloudblower studied her fists. They shone with a crimson gleam. “The day we—we found the War Chief’s wife”—she gestured to Browser—“I opened Hophorn’s skull to release the evil Spirits feeding in her head wound. Hophorn could not speak at first, but she kept making sounds, frantically trying to tell me something. She would draw two lines on the floor, and repeat words over and over, as if it were urgent that I understand, but I did not, Elder.”
Stone Ghost leaned closer to Cloudblower, his eyes shining. “What did you think she was saying? You must have tried to guess.”
Cloudblower lifted her hands. “I thought, for a time, the words were
bat
and
fight,
or perhaps
black
and
white.
Something like that.” Cloudblower closed her eyes again, and took a breath. “Later, I thought she said, ‘the bright one,’ which made me think that her earlier words might have been
black
and
bright,
but how can I know, Elder?” A pleading expression creased Cloudblower’s triangular face. “Hophorn has been too ill to explain, and I—”
“That is true,” Browser defended. Cloudblower looked as if she teetered on the edge of a precipice. To give her time to collect herself, he said, “I myself have questioned Hophorn on what she saw the day my wife was killed. The first word she spoke clearly was last night, when she—she called my name.”
It had not occurred to him until this instant that it may have taken an overwhelming act of will for Hophorn to find his name inside her, that desperation had torn it from her injured souls.
Stone Ghost’s gaze lifted to Hophorn. A lifeless expression slackened her face.
Browser said, “Uncle, when I first entered this chamber, Hophorn told me that ‘the two’ were coming. She begged me to stop them. To help her.”
“The two?” Stone Ghost asked.
Cloudblower shook her head, as if denying what Browser had just said.
Stone Ghost said, “You disagree?”
“No, I—I mean, yes, she did say that, but I think she meant she
fears
they are coming, Elder. It was the tone in her voice; it was not one of knowledge, but terror.”
“Perhaps,” Browser granted, “but we—”
Hophorn moved. She drew up one knee, and resettled herself on her side, facing them. Her brown dress fell in sculpted folds around her, and her black-and-white badgerhide leggings looked startling against the red blankets. Her eyes opened and fixed on Browser.
Quietly, Browser asked, “Hophorn? Are you awake?”
Her eyes had gone glassy.
Browser returned his gaze to Stone Ghost. “We cannot afford to ignore the possibility that one of the murderers spoke to her last night, Uncle. Spoke to her and told her he would be back.”
“You are right, Nephew. Murderers often make threats. Take whatever precautions you must.”
Browser nodded. “Later in the day, when people from the distant villages begin arriving for the Ceremony of the Longnight, I will go to Flame Carrier and ask that she speak with the clan matrons. Perhaps they will assign several of their warriors to help guard the village during the ritual. Surely ‘the two’ will not risk challenging—”
“Surely they will, Nephew. Do you know the faces of every villager who will be here? No? I doubt that they know the faces of every person in Hillside Village either. There will be many strangers present. Two more will be of little consequence.” Stone Ghost touched Browser’s shoulder. “Though, you are right, of course. More guards mean more eyes. But do not suppose that more eyes will stop them. They won’t.”
“I don’t understand?” Browser frowned at the old man. “I would
not risk killing someone if I thought I might be captured by her relatives.”
“No,” Stone Ghost answered. “You would not. But you are sane, Nephew.”
Stone Ghost grunted to his feet and hobbled across the room, halting five hands from Hophorn. As he knelt, his tattered turkey feather cape spread across the floor. “Blessed Sunwatcher?” he called respectfully. “May I speak with you?”
Hophorn’s full lips parted, but her eyes remained on Browser.
“Can you hear me, Sunwatcher?” Stone Ghost waved a hand in front of her open eyes.
Cloudblower’s face tensed. She whispered, “It’s another of her blanking-out spells, Elder. They come upon her swiftly and often take hands of time to pass. She—”
“I know. She is not well,” Stone Ghost sighed, and got to his feet. “I will try again later, when she is rested.”
As though some part of her had taken his words as an order, Hophorn’s eyes closed, and her head lolled sideways on the red blankets. She appeared to be sound asleep.
Stone Ghost stood silently for several moments, studying her. “Nephew, I wish to walk with the Healer. Alone. Do not consider it a reflection upon you, rather—”
“Do not apologize, Uncle.” Browser rose to his feet. “I promised to speak with Catkin. I ask only that you remain in the plaza, in my sight. I do not wish to worry that someone is sneaking up on the two of you.”
Stone Ghost turned to Cloudblower. “Healer? Will you grant me a finger of your time?”
“Yes, of course,” Cloudblower said but sounded reluctant. She reached for her painted deerhide cape and swung it around her shoulders. “I will meet you outside. I need to cover Hophorn. In a few moments, she will start growing cold.”
“Of course.” Stone Ghost ducked beneath the door curtain. Browser followed him out into the cool morning air. He could hear Cloudblower whispering to Hophorn, and knew from the few words he caught that she was reassuring Hophorn, telling her not to worry, that she would return soon.
He-Who-Flies straightened to his full height, over twelve hands, and a breath expanded his massive chest. He scrutinized Stone Ghost with slitted eyes. His round, flat face showed the strain of a long night. Lines cut deeply around his mouth and across his forehead. “War Chief?” he said to Browser. “A word with you?”
Browser nodded, and stepped closer. “Yes?”
He-Who-Flies kept his deep voice low. “What did you find this morning? At the wash? Were there tracks?”
Browser shook his head. “No.”
He-Who-Flies grimaced. “I heard what Hophorn said about ‘the two’ coming. Does that mean you think there are two people working together?”
“It appears so. There are other things, as well, which bolster her words. Whiproot has bruises on his mouth, as though a hand—”
“Clamped his mouth shut while someone else killed him!”
Browser nodded.
He-Who-Flies glanced around. “If the murderers are human, how are they getting in? And out after they commit their crimes?”
Browser searched the enormous crumbling town that surrounded them and the stone and dirt that piled against the walls. “This town is like an ancient rabbit warren, He-Who-Flies. If men are brave enough to risk being crushed by collapsing walls, there are dozens of entries and exits.”
“But humans would leave tracks, War Chief. We would see some sign of their passing!”
Browser frowned. After Whiproot’s murder and Silk Moth’s screams last night, no one felt safe. Less than a hand of time ago, he’d heard Peavine tell Redcrop that perhaps Ash Girl’s wicked soul had gotten loose and was tormenting the people who’d spoken ill of her during her life. He had not wished to mention that if that were true Peavine would have been the first to die.
“There are tracks, He-Who-Flies, inside the passageway where the katsina fled last night.”
“The tracks of two people?”
“No. One. But it tells us we are looking for men, not gods.”
“Not gods,” He-Who-Flies agreed, “but maybe witches who can transform themselves into gods. Very powerful witches who kill with a word.”
Browser replied, “These people prefer real weapons. They struck Hophorn with a club and killed Whiproot with a stone hatchet.”
“A hatchet?” He-Who-Flies asked quietly. “I had not heard that.”
“I did not know myself until a short time ago.”
To his right, high in the rear of the town, Skink and Water Snake watched from the rubble of the toppled fifth story. They clutched war clubs in their hands. On the roof to Browser’s left, Catkin stood with her back to him, surveying the canyon beyond. Wind Baby had torn strands of raven hair loose from her combs and fluttered them over her back like the sinuous arms of a dancer. The sight had an odd affect on him, comforting.
Cloudblower pushed her door curtain aside and stepped out. Her graceful brows lowered, accentuating the bladelike sharpness of her nose. She appeared unhappy. “I am here, Elder,” she announced and spread her feet as if preparing for a fight.
Stone Ghost slipped his arm through hers and said, “I am not as steady as I once was, Healer. You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Yes, Elder. Tell me where you wish to go.”
The lines at the corners of Stone Ghost’s eyes crinkled as he smiled and pointed. “Let us walk toward the hole in the wall where the killer fled last night. We will talk along the way.”
Cloudblower glanced uncomfortably at Browser and He-Who-Flies, then led the old man toward the hole in the crumbling wall.
Browser said, “I will speak with you more later, He-Who-Flies. I promised to inform Catkin of what passed here. Stay vigilant.”
“I will, War Chief.” He-Who-Flies returned to his guard position outside Cloudblower’s door. His eyes scanned the plaza and the cliff that loomed behind Skink and Water Snake.
As Browser climbed the pole rungs of the ladder, he felt exposed, vulnerable. His backbone seemed to turn to ice. The cold sensation spread through him. By the time he’d reached the roof where Catkin stood, he felt as if his insides had frozen solid. Catkin seemed to know. Apprehension strained her beautiful oval face.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“Let us talk away from anyone’s hearing.” He lifted a hand toward the southwestern corner of the roof.
They walked in silence. Finches flitted through the ruins,
chirping and fluttering their wings, hopping from stone to stone. In the distance, the western sky sparkled as though carefully polished.
Browser stopped at the edge of the roof and gazed at the sunlit canyon wall. The pile of fresh earth where they’d buried his son shone darker than the rest of the desert. The boy would be in the Land of the Dead now. Responsibility for his care had shifted from Browser’s shoulders to that of the Blessed Ancestors. He prayed that they would care as much for his son as he had.
He forced his eyes away. The grave where they’d found his wife remained a gaping hole. No one had wished to fill it. Nearby, the windswept fire pit Hophorn had stoked lay cold and dead. Large chunks of black charcoal filled the center.
“Hophorn said that ‘two’ are coming.” Browser watched Catkin’s face go pale.