People of the Mist (28 page)

 
          
The
Panther wrapped his blanket tightly about his shoulders and strolled out into
the night, Sun Conch following quietly behind.

 
          
He
sighed with relief as he left the palisade, and the stifling number of people
within it. The presence of Okeus had bothered him, too. The statue hadn’t been
particularly well crafted, and that mocking smile had worn on Panther’s nerves.
More than once, he’d caught himself just short of throwing a bone at it. Had
he, the simpleminded villagers would have nearly shed their skins in horror.
The only thing that would have had him chucked headfirst into the fire faster
would have been if he’d stood up and announced himself as born out of incest.

 
          
To
be sure, when “in his moods,” he’d thrown things at his own statue of Okeus,
taunting the god, and nothing terrible had ever happened to him. What was it
about his people’s obsession with Okeus that irritated him so? The unfairness
that Ohona had been virtually forgotten in the ceremonies and ritual?

 
          
“Maybe
we deserve what we get?”

 
          
“Elder?”
Sun Conch followed behind, keeping her place as surely as a shadow.

 
          
“Nothing.
Just the mumbling of a cranky old man.” % Overhead, light from the quarter-moon
cast a faint glow on the last of the low clouds being blown out to sea. A few
stars sparkled defiantly through the hazy air. Around the village, the dark
fields were silent. The frosted cornstalks, beans, and squash vines reflected
faintly.

 
          
Panther
puffed a white breath and watched it rise before his face. The temperature was
dropping toward a hard freeze. By morning the mist would rise as cold air
rolled over the warmer waters.

 
          
In
the village behind him, voices rose and fell in the babble of human
conversations. He shook his head. Being around people rasped at his soul like
sand on soft wood. The long moons of exile had wrought a change in him, made
him brittle around mobs. He wanted nothing more than the solace to recenter
himself, put his thoughts in order. Even the soft footfalls behind him irked.

 
          
Panther
stifled a sudden urge to turn and growl at Sun Conch, but the girl’s presence
was Panther’s own fault: a burden he would have to bear until this thing ended.

 
          
“We
have done good work this day,” Panther remarked to ease his conscience. Sun
Conch paused for a moment, then asked, “Why did you stop the fight, Elder? What
difference would it have made to you if Black Spike had wiped out Nine Killer
and his warriors? These aren’t your people.”

 
          
“I
stopped it, girl, because it was foolishness—passion turned loose without
direction. If Black Spike had killed Nine Killer and his warriors, the act
would have been irrevocable. Remember this, my friend: When an arrow is loosed,
you can’t call it back no matter how desperately you watch its course through
the sky. Human actions can be just as final.” He frowned out at the night,
craving the deathly stillness of the fields. “And, we must see. Was Red Knot
murdered specifically to start this war? If we are seeking to thwart the
killer, we must try to do so in all ways, for an evil committed must not be
allowed to flourish.”

 
          
“But,
Elder,” she said, “we worship Okeus, and he’s a capricious god.”

 
          
Panther
snorted in derision. “Yes, I know. Okeus is worshiped, and Ohona fades from
memory like yesterday’s mist. Have you ever considered that, Sun Conch? What
does it tell us about people that they worship the god of chaos and pain, and
forget the god of peace and goodwill?”

 
          
“Well,
Elder, Ohona doesn’t need us to placate him because he’s already good. He
wouldn’t harm us, but Okeus would.”

 
          
“So?”

 
          
“So,
since Okeus is the dangerous one, if you please him through your actions and
offerings, he won’t inflict disaster upon you.”

 
          
“Gull
dung! How simple can you get?”

 
          
“Elder?
I… I don’t understand.”

 
          
“Well,
think, youngster. Consider it from the aspect of Okeus. It matters not what he
does, then, does it? If he brews up a terrible storm, the people suffer through
it; then they provide him with offerings in hopes he won’t do it again. So, he
sends another storm, and they scurry around to lay twice as many offerings at
his feet. Now, if that was the case, and you were Okeus, what would you do?”

 
          
Sun
Conch said, “Send yet another storm.”

 
          
“And
you can imagine what Ohona feels. He spreads sunshine, helps people have a good
harvest—despite

 
          
Okeus
and his schemes—and who do these pesky people build a temple to?”

 
          
“Okeus.”

 
          
“That’s
right, Okeus. It’s a wonder Ohona sheds any of his grace on us, isn’t it?”

 
          
“Yes,
Elder. But, well, it’s because it’s his nature, isn’t it? To be benevolent, no
matter what?”

 
          
“It
is. Now, think further. Where did Okeus and Ohona come from?” “They were born
of First Woman after she dropped from the World Tree.”

 
          
“Indeed.
Twins. What does that tell us about Okeus and his nature?”

 
          
“That
he, too, must do what his nature dictates.”

 
          
“Ah!
So, what implication does that have for all of these temples raised to him?”

 
          
Sun
Conch stood for a moment, her head bowed. “I see. That’s why you have the two
shrines on your island. That’s why you said I wasn’t ready for the answer.” She
paused. “But, Elder, why did you feed Okeus that day? Why build a shrine to him
at all if he is always working against us?”

 
          
Panther
waved at the night around them. “Because” in her infinite wisdom, First Woman
understood that if the world was all good, it would wither and die. Just as
Ohona hasn’t abandoned us—no matter how we neglect him for his rascally
brother. He still brings the sun after the storm. The same with Okeus. No
matter how he makes us suffer, we’re better off for a little suffering. It
makes us stronger, makes the world work. For that, I honor him, no matter how
much I dislike him.”

 
          
Sun
Conch’s eyes tightened and she tipped her face to watch the bare tree branches
swaying above them. “I don’t always understand what you’re telling me, Elder,
but I will think on this.”

 
          
“Yes,
I know you will. You’re a thinker, Sun Conch. Unlike your friend, High Fox, you
…”

 
          
A
shadowed form moved near the palisade. Sun Conch shifted on cat feet, her war
club raised, and stepped in front of Panther.

 
          
“No!”
came a gasped cry. “I surrender! Please, I’m no danger.”

 
          
At
the sound of the scratchy voice, Panther placed a hand on Sun Conch’s shoulder.
“I think it’s all right. Who comes here?”

 
          
He
could see an old woman detach herself from the darkness. “Elder?” her scratchy
voice called out. “A word with you?”

 
          
“Do
I know you?”

 
          
“Ah,
once, yes, but that was two lifetimes ago. Two lifetimes, yes. Not now. Now
your eyes barely see me.”

 
          
“And
who were you, those many lifetimes ago?”

 
          
“You
knew me as … No, it matters not. That woman is dead. Her flower has passed from
memory. There’s no time, no time for remembering. Those thoughts are of pain.
All that pain from long ago.” “You make no sense.”

 
          
“Oh,
no, great Elder, my words make a great deal of sense, but I didn’t come to talk
of the past. I came to talk of this life, and the trouble it brings. Let them
suffer, that’s what I said. What misery Okeus pours down on their heads is only
what they deserve. Dogs that they are.” “Who are dogs?” Panther stepped closer,
edging past Sun Conch and the war club clutched in her hard fist.

 
          
“These
people,” the old woman whispered, crabbing back into the shadows. “May their
ghosts howl in the night, lonely and forgotten. May their spirits bathe in
their own cooking blood as my man did. Let them burn, burn forever.”

 
          
“I
know you, don’t I?” Panther said. “Please. Step out where I can see you.”

 
          
“No.
No. Great one, now I-am a thing of shadows. He would kill me if he knew I was
here, telling you about that woman. Bad blood! Forbidden blood! That’s what
this is all about. I am out of time. Must go. Get back before I am missed. I…”

 
          
Yellow
light flickered as Big Noise stepped out from the palisade, a pitch-pine torch
held high.

 
          
“Go
now! Away from me! Away from Moth.” The old woman scurried back, ducking down.
“Don’t let them find me.”

 
          
“Wait!”
Panther stepped forward. “You’re in no—”

 
          
“She
came!” she hissed. “In the night! The fire started at the bottom, rose around
him like petals of a flower. His flesh bubbled and charred as he screamed.”

 
          
The
old hag scurried away, merging with the shadows as Big Noise approached in the
company of four warriors. In the torchlight, Panther caught the faintest
glimpse of the woman’s face. The light shone on a patch of slick scar tissue.

 
          
“Say
nothing of this,” Panther said to Sun Conch, and turned toward the warriors. He
strode forward, arms clasped behind his back. “Can I help you, War Chief?”

 
          
Big
Noise stopped short, squinting in the torch light. “We missed you, Elder.”

 
          
“Suspicious
of a witch loose in the night? Fearful that I might be cavorting with the night
spirits? Turning myself into an owl, perhaps?” Panther chuckled. “Oh, I’m out
here listening to voices, all right.” Big Noise gave him a perplexed look, the
warriors behind him fidgeting. Panther waved it away. “Fear not, War Chief. Far
from brewing evil, I just took the chance to walk out for air, to marvel at the
stillness of the night, and think.”

 
          
“I
see,” Big Noise said, though his voice indicated that he did not.

 
          
“Well,
come then. If my presence is so reassuring, you may escort me back within the
palisade.”

 
          
The
whisper of moccasins brought Sun Conch fully awake. She shifted in her warm
deer hides and lifted her head. Long black hair fell down her back. Panther
slept nestled behind her, his back against the rear wall of the long house She
could feel the warmth of his body, the movements of his breathing.

 
          
Big
Noise, the guard that Black Spike had posted to watch them, stood ten paces in
front of her, his face gleaming in the starlight that poured through the smoke
hole in the roof. Had he made the noise?

 
          
She
looked around. This wasn’t her long house but she knew every person who lived
here. Most were missing, spending the night with kin, as far from the witch as
they could get. Twenty hands away, old man Lametoe had braved spending the
night in his long house He snored like an enraged bear, as he did every night,
and Little Toad, his six-Comings-of-the-Leaves-old granddaughter, fidgeted in
her sleep. She lay to the left of the old man, one arm curved over her head,
her fingers opening and closing as though reaching out for someone. Sun Conch
longed to hold her. The child’s mother had been killed six moons ago, and
Little Toad had yet to recover. She had been whimpering earlier, the sound
barely audible, but it had shredded Sun Conch’s soul.