People of the Mist (39 page)

 
          
Panther’s
fingers traced through her hair, around the edge of ragged bone that had broken
the skin. The wound was … “What’s this?” He pulled the hair back and frowned.
“Kwiokos, do you have a pot of water? And perhaps a strip of cloth? There’s so
much blood and hair here that I can’t see.”

 
          
Green
Serpent made a gesture, and Lightning Cat hurried away, only to return an
instant later with a large pot of water and a piece of fabric.

 
          
Panther
crouched, wet the fabric—it was a piece made from hemp—and dabbed at the
blood-matted hair. It took time to sponge the area clean, but at last he was
able to see the wound, a nasty depression just above the ear.

 
          
“Here,
look here”—Panther pointed—“a second, smaller dent a bit further in front.”

 
          
“She
was hit twice?” Nine Killer looked closely. “Wait, something’s not right about
that.”

 
          
“Indeed.”
Panther considered the wound for a moment. “It would be unlikely that she was
struck twice, wouldn’t it?”

 
          
Nine
Killer exhaled thoughtfully. “The wounds I have seen would make me think so. If
the first hit was the forward one, she would have staggered, probably lost her
footing. Generally the warrior steps up and smashes the blow downward, right
through the top of the skull.”

 
          
“That
isn’t what we’re seeing here.”

 
          
“What
does it mean?”

 
          
“Oh,
we’ll find out. Everything will come clear, War Chief. Red Knot has told us a
great deal already.” Panther cleaned the bloodstains from the girl’s chest and
inspected her breasts. Then he spread her legs and stared thoughtfully at her
vulva. The pubic hair had been plucked, as was customary for a woman’s first
menstruation. “No sign of a man’s seed was seen?”

 
          
“No.
Flat
Willow
said that she hadn’t been used like that.”

 
          
With
equal care, Panther inspected her legs, buttocks, and back. Then he used a
stick to pry her mouth open and looked inside. Blood had trickled down her
cheek and across her lips, and caked the outside of the teeth. “There’s no
blood on her tongue, no evidence that she bit anyone. None of the teeth are
snapped off from a blow.” Sun Conch made a deep-throated sound and turned away,
her eyes moist.

 
          
Panther
washed his hands in the pot of water and glanced at Green Serpent. “Very well,
Kwiokos, you may begin your duties.”

 
          
“With
you here?” Green Serpent shifted uncertainly. “You’re not of her clan.”

 
          
“No,
but I must see her as you skin the body.” Panther glanced at Sun Conch. “Out of
respect, however, I will ask Sun Conch to leave us and guard the front
entrance.”

 
          
Sun
Conch nodded gratefully, and ran for the entrance.

 
          
Panther
shrugged. “I believe we were about to lose her anyway. I’m not sure that she’s
used to seeing the aftereffects of violent death. Especially with a girl she
knew.”

 
          
Nine
Killer’s grim expression reflected agreement.

 
          
Green
Serpent nodded, and Lightning Cat and Streaked Bear stepped forward holding a
ceramic pot decorated with cord marks and punctations. As Green Serpent sang in
time to the shaking of his rattle, each priest removed a sharp chert flake, and
bent over the girl.

 
          
Panther
and Nine Killer stepped back as the War Chief said, “I’m not sure I’m supposed
to see this.”

 
          
“Why
is that, War Chief? She’s a member of your clan. Her soul won’t mind that
you’re here. After all, you are working for her.”

 
          
“Our
being here, it won’t taint the ritual?”

 
          
Panther
waved it away. “Just between the two of us, no, it won’t. The Kwiokos and his
kind like to keep certain privileges to themselves and the gods.” Green Serpent
shot him a reproving look and continued with the task of removing Red Knot’s
skin.

 
          
“What
we are doing here is making a familiar place for her ghost to reside.” Panther
inspected his hands, watching the lines deepen in his palms as he flexed the
fingers. “Whether her ghost stays here is up to her, no matter what rituals we
do to bind her to the body.”

 
          
Despite
periodic inspections by The Panther, Red Knot offered no more clues. He studied
her arms in particular, even pulling back the muscles to feel the bones. She
had no bruises, no other evidence of violence under the skin, or in the organs.
Only the bloody indentations in her skull remained as cause of death. In the
end, she lay supine, garishly vulnerable as the last of her skin was carefully
cut loose. What had been a girl looked monstrous: exposed red muscle, white
tendon, and mottled blood. The sunken eyeballs stared sightlessly up from the
stripped meat and cartilage on her face. Black bruises surrounded the wounds in
the side of her rounded and naked skull.

 
          
“Kwiokos,”
Panther said gently. “Please, be very careful in the preparation of her skull.
The muscle must be picked away with the greatest of care. If you find anything
unusual, please, send for me immediately.”

 
          
Green
Serpent bobbed his head thoughtfully. “Yes, after watching you work, I think I
understand.”

 
          
It
was late afternoon when Panther led Nine Killer out of the temple, and
collected a pale Sun Conch at the doorway.

 
          
“Your
color looks better,” Panther lied as he greeted the girl.

 
          
“I
hadn’t expected … to see her… not this way, Elder.” Sun Conch glanced away
uncertainly.

 
          
Nine
Killer took deep breaths of the clear cold air, watching the sun as it slanted
down toward the trees in the southwest. “One thing I don’t understand. Why were
you so concerned with her arms?”

 
          
Panther
whirled, his face twisted in rage. “You filthy dog! I’m going to kill you!” And
he swung his fist, striking at Nine Killer’s head.

 
          
The
War Chief threw his arm up as a shield. And at that, Panther danced back,
saying mildly, “That’s why, War Chief.”

 
          
Nine
Killer stood in a half-crouch, tensed to spring, confusion on his face. “Have
you lost your senses?” ‘

 
          
“Just
proving a point. The instant you thought I was attacking you, you couldn’t help
but raise your arm to parry the blow. Think, War Chief, in battle, how many
arms have you broken with your war club?”

 
          
The
anger cleared from Nine Killer’s eyes. “A great many, Elder. A man’s first
reaction is to raise his arm to block the blow.”

 
          
“A
woman’s, too, I’d wager. But Red Knot never did so.” “Then she was killed from
ambush!” Sun Conch cried. “She never even knew she was in danger!”

 
          
“No,
and yes.” Panther saw the light come to Nine Killer’s eyes. Yes, the War Chief
was a quick one; he already understood where Panther was headed.

 
          
“You
see, Sun Conch,” Panther said as he began walking across the plaza, “had I not
shouted at the War Chief first, he would never have had time to raise his arm.
Red Knot’s death came so quickly, she never had time to react to the danger.”

 
          
“And
the ambush?” Sun Conch asked. “Why do you rule that out?”

 
          
“From
the nature of the wound,” Nine Killer said grimly. “Her killer was facing her.”

 
          
“So
if the killer was facing her, and she never raised her arm in defense, she
wasn’t anticipating an attack. And that means… it was someone she knew.” Sun
Conch’s young brow furrowed.

 
          
“And
trusted,” Panther added.

 
          
Nine
Killer watched The Panther demolish a bowl of boiled squash, hominy, and
periwinkles. Rosebud had seasoned the whole with beechnuts to give it a subtle
tang. They washed the meal down with draughts of walnut milk poured from gourd
cups.

 
          
They
were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Sun Conch had barely picked at her
food. Even to Nine Killer’s tongue, it tasted flat. Only The Panther, his
forehead lined pensively, ate as if he’d never tasted such a feast.

 
          
The
fire popped and crackled while Rosebud told her children stories of the first
days, when First Man and First Woman, and deer, raccoon, skunk, and turtle,
roamed the world in the form of men. She told of how chipmunk got his stripes
and how First Man became the sun. And finally of the first terrible crime, when
Okeus brought incest, murder, and war into the world.

 
          
Did
she have to tell that last? Nine Killer listened halfheartedly, images from the
day’s activities popping into his mind. He felt unclean, the taint of death
clinging to his body like the odor of smoke.

 
          
Relax,
he told himself. You’re just not used to the ways of priests. You saw things
today that you shouldn’t have seen. A good sweat bath, that’s what he needed.
And afterward, he’d take a long swim in the cold waters of the inlet. Yes,
sweat the musk of death from his soul and then wash it clean.

 
          
Nine
Killer pictured Red Knot’s skull. He saw it after it had been skinned, the bone
blood-blackened and broken. The two indentations mocked him. It wasn’t just the
violation of that delicate skull, but the way the wounds were situated. How
could two blows be made so close together, the fractures running into each
other, as if… He stopped in mid chew and gave Sun Conch’s war club a sidelong
glance. The handle was as long as a man’s arm, made of white ash, stained by
sweat and dirt. The war head consisted of single stone, ground into a point and
bonded to the wooden shaft by dried ligament stripped from a deer’s hock. His
own war club had been made much the same way.

 
          
But
there were other ways to make a war club. Somehad spikes—like Copper Thunder’s.
His had a stone head, and a copper spike set into the wood.

 
          
Two
indentations?

 
          
“Rosebud?
Could you come here?”

 
          
Panther
and Sun Conch gave him inquisitive looks as Nine Killer’s sister walked over,
asking, “Do you need more? I thought that was enough food to feed half of your
warriors.”

 
          
“No,
I need you. Come.” He stood, placing hands on her shoulders and facing her
toward the fire. “Were you the same size as Red Knot?”

 
          
She
gave him an uneasy frown. “I think she was a little shorter, but I’m not sure.
She grew like a thistle in the cornfield this last year.”

 
          
Sun
Conch stood, facing Rosebud. “She came up to here on me.” She held a hand level
with her brow. That made Rosebud a finger shorter.

 
          
“That’s
good enough,” Nine Killer said. “Sun Conch, hand me my war club. It’s over
there next to the sleeping platform. That’s it.” Sun Conch brought it, and Nine
Killer hefted his club in his right hand, testing the familiar balance. “Now,
suppose that I was Red Knot’s murderer, and—”

 
          
“No,
you don’t!” Rosebud snapped, stepping back warily. “I’m not going to stand in
for a dead woman! Her soul would never forgive me!”

 
          
Panther’s
expression lit with sudden excitement. “Yes! What were you thinking, War
Chief?”