People of the Mist (43 page)

 
          
And,
given the things Panther had discovered, he was in the worst trouble of his
life.

 
          
Her
soul kept replaying the happy, joyous days of their childhood together, and she
longed to go to him. Just to—to talk. She needed to talk with him.

 
          
When
they’d been children, she had followed him around like a happy puppy, often
embarrassing him in front of his friends, who thought that a girl demeaned
their approaching manhood. Sun Conch smiled to herself. Despite the taunts from
his friends, High Fox had never shouted at her, or told her to go away. Of
course, none of the other children had really liked him, either. Oh, he had
ignored her on occasion, but then, later, when they had been alone, he’d
apologized for it, and promised to make it up to her. And he always had. Many
mornings she had awakened to find treasures deposited near the foot of her
bed—the farthest he could reach without actually coming into her house, which
would have been impolite—flowers, beautiful seashells, brightly colored autumn
leaves. Things he knew would please her.

 
          
The
past two Comings of the Leaves, however, had been much harder. After his
Blackening, the pressures on High Fox grew extreme. People expected more of a
man than they did a boy, and High Fox never seemed able to meet those
expectations. Especially his father’s. He hadn’t been free to see Sun Conch as
often, but she’d understood. When they did sit together, she had been content.

 
          
Sun
Conch cocked her ear.

 
          
Panther
had awakened. She could hear him speaking softly to someone inside-the long
house She sighed. As soon as he found her, there would be work to do. Not that
she minded. He had kept his part of the bargain. She would certainly keep hers.

 
          
She
turned when Panther rounded the corner of the house. His gray hair was wild
from sleep, and he looked only half-awake. He stood yawning and scratching his
side. His gaze landed on her, and he walked forward.

 
          
“You
are up early,” he said.

 
          
“I
couldn’t sleep, Elder.”

 
          
“Homesick?”

 
          
“No,”
she said vehemently. “I never wish to see my family again.”

 
          
He
gave her a wan smile, as though she’d told him she was dying from a strange
fever that he knew would pass. “Then you must be fretting about High Fox.”

 
          
Sun
Conch lowered her gaze to the damp toes of her moccasins. How could he say High
Fox’s name with such distaste? “You don’t know him, Elder. If you did, you
would respect him.”

 
          
Panther
sank to the ground a pace in front of her. His faded old eyes had a puffy look,
and his wrinkles etched his face so deeply, it appeared sculpted from brown
clay. The worn blanket around his shoulders didn’t hide his shivering.

 
          
Panther
said, “Do you want me to tell you the truth? Or would a decorous lie be
better?”

 
          
“I’m
not sure, Elder. Your truths usually leave me feeling bludgeoned with a war
club.”

 
          
“They’re
meant to.”

 
          
Sun
Conch waved a hand. “Go ahead. Tell me the truth.”

 
          
For
a time, Panther watched the birds chirping and hopping across the thatch roof.
Their songs had just begun to serenade the dawn, and he seemed to be enjoying
them. “You can tell a good deal about a man by the way he treats others, don’t
you agree, Sun Conch?”

 
          
“Yes,
Elder. I do.”

 
          
“Good.”
He kicked at a stone lodged in the frozen earth near his feet. “High Fox is a
user. He uses whomever he can, whenever he can. He’s just used you for so long,
you think that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

 
          
“Elder,”
she said, exasperated, “have you ever loved someone?”

 
          
“Yes.
I have. Deeply.”

 
          
The
tone in his voice made her stomach muscles go tight. She felt as if she’d just
plunged a deer-bone stiletto into his belly and twisted it. “Then why don’t you
understand my love for High Fox?”

 
          
“I
do understand, Sun Conch. I understand that young love is a very powerful
thing. It is also, too often, very foolish.”

 
          
Her
mouth gaped. “Elder, how can you say that? All I want in life is to give myself
to High Fox. I want him to have my whole soul. I would already have given it to
him if… if…”

 
          
Panther
waited, and when she said no more, he calmly finished for her, “If he’d wanted
it. But, he didn’t. You should be very grateful for that.”

 
          
“But—”

 
          
“Sun
Conch, do you know what would have happened if he’d allowed you to give
yourself to him? And I don’t mean in body, child. I mean your soul.”

 
          
Half-angry,
she snapped, “What?”

 
          
“First
of all, he wouldn’t have known what to do with it. He doesn’t know what to do
with his own soul, let alone yours. He would have played with your soul like a
toy, tossing it about, seeing how much it could take, until he finally broke
it. Then he would have cast your soul aside, Sun Conch. What man wants
something broken?”

 
          
She
hesitated. “My love wouldn’t have been broken, Elder. Wouldn’t he have still
wanted that?” Panther closed one eye. “You speak of love as if you think it’s
easy.”

 
          
“It
is. I mean, for me. Loving High Fox is the easiest thing I have ever done.”

 
          
“Loving
is work, girl. And hard labor, at that. The hardest any human being can ever
attempt.”

 
          
Incredulous,
she whispered, “Perhaps it was for you.”

 
          
Panther
sat back and tugged on his blanket, pulling it down over his exposed knees.
“Sun Conch, doesn’t it disturb you that High Fox’s necklace was found in Red
Knot’s hand? That he was coupling with her when she was a girl? That last is
certainly not the action of an honorable man.”

 
          
She
fingered the hide of her dress. She had all but asked the same thing of High
Fox when she’d begged him to run away with her and told him she could be his
wife. She had no right to condemn High Fox for loving Red Knot. Though the
discovery of his necklace had bothered her. “The coupling … that wasn’t
honorable. You are right, Elder. But there must be a reasonable explanation-for
the necklace. High Fox would never have hurt Red Knot. I know it.”

 
          
“You
don’t think it’s possible that Red Knot grabbed the necklace in a fight for her
life? That she tore it from his throat trying to protect herself?”

 
          
Sun
Conch’s spine went rigid. She stared at Panther. “No. I don’t.”

 
          
“I
see.” But he acted just the opposite. His mouth had set into hard lines. “Then
who do you think murdered Red Knot?”

 
          
“I
don’t know, Elder! It could be one of ten people!” She made a sweeping gesture
with her arm. “Nearly everyone in
Flat
Pearl
Village
has a motive!” Panther frowned at the mist.
As the morning warmed, it seemed to fall apart, fragmenting into patches, then
wisps. Soon it would rise and transform itself into low clouds. “Well, that’s
true. We need to uncover more of what happened here before we can begin to
judge.”

 
          
The
eastern sky had started to glow. Gulls flapped across the luminous blue, their
hoarse calls echoing. Sun Conch smoothed her fingers down the polished wood of
High Fox’s war club, the club he had forced her to take, despite the fact that
it was his life that was in danger. “Elder,” she asked, “why do you hate High
Fox so much? He’s never done anything to you.”

 
          
“No,”
Panther said. “But he will if I let him. He’ll hurt anyone who gives him a
chance.”

 
          
“He’s
never hurt me.”

 
          
“Never?”

 
          
She
started to give him a hasty answer, but he’d know she was lying. “Well, even if
he has, I still want to marry him, Elder. Do you think that’s wrong? To want to
love someone forever?”

 
          
“Not
wrong,” he answered wistfully. “But there is nothing more difficult than loving
another person, Sun Conch. Lovers so often want to consume each other, to draw
the other inside their hearts where they can keep them caged like a beloved
pet—”

 
          
“I
don’t want High Fox as my pet!”

 
          
Panther
looked up at her from beneath bushy silver brows. “Perhaps not, but I’m sure he
wants you as his. He already treats you like his second-favorite dog. Now, let
me finish what I was saying.”

 
          
She
clamped her jaw.

 
          
Panther
leaned toward her to peer into her eyes. “Do you want to know how to avoid
becoming a pet?”

 
          
“Not
really. I don’t think it will ever happen to me. I’m too strong-willed.”

 
          
“I’m
going to tell you just the same, because someday you’ll be glad I did.” He
brushed at a speck of dirt on his blanket, gently, as if it were alive and he
feared to hurt it, “Never strive to be one with another person, Sun Conch. You
will want to. The heart can be very demanding. But don’t do it. Love only
succeeds when two people realize they can’t be one, and learn to nurture the
distance between them. Distance is what makes it possible to see another person
for who they really are, whole, and naked against a clean blue sky. That is the
beginning of real love.”

 
          
“Distance!
But I…” Sun Conch stopped, and checked to see if Panther wore his evil squint.
He didn’t. In fact, he looked a little sad. “Elder, I promise you that I will
remember your words, though I will surely never learn to appreciate such a
distance. More than anything, I want to be close to High Fox.” The closer the
better.

 
          
Panther
looked away, and his eyes glinted with a silver-silk flash of dawn. “You will
learn. Or you will spend your life alone.” He abruptly rose to his feet, said,
“As I have,” and hobbled off as if each step hurt.

 
          
Sun
Conch flopped back against the house wall. He had a way of conversing that felt
a lot like being pelted with rocks.. She shook her head. The pungent scents of
the newborn day rose powerfully, wet thatch and burning oak) the mist-soaked
feathers of her cape. Several people were up and about. Two girls walked toward
the opening in the palisade, water jugs cupped in their brown arms, their
voices loud in the morning stillness. A dog trotted happily at the heels of a
boy with an armload of wood.

 
          
An
odd pain spread across her chest as she wondered at Panther’s last statement.
Did it mean that he had never learned to nurture the distance? Was that why he
wasn’t married? Why he lived on his island in the middle of nowhere?

 
          
As
Panther neared the opening in the palisade, Sun Conch suddenly realized he
intended to go outside. She grabbed her war club, sprang to her feet, and
dashed across the plaza, calling, “Panther? Wait! Don’t go out there alone! I’m
coming!”

 
          
Blessed
gods, my gods, I am so alone.

 
          
I
stare at the fire lit roof above me, and try just to breathe.

 
          
How
curious that the sudden awareness of my coming death has awakened me to the
fact that I have no one, that I spent my life discarding loved ones like broken
pots along the way.

 
          
Faces
flutter across my soul, and guilt overwhelms me when I must struggle to put
names upon their smiles. Images whirl like snowflakes around each face,
falling, falling…

 
          
Now
I even understand how I did it.

 
          
As
I grew older, piece by piece, I chose to move outside myself those ideas and
people that cluttered my solitude. Old friends. New friends. They were all the
same. I did not have the stamina for them. I truly believed that. Like bits of
granite, they weighted my soul, demanding attention, gobbling more and more of
my precious internal moments. I was fighting for my life! For the lives of
other people! I could not afford such draining ties. I thought that if I set
them aside I would have the strength for greater, more profound efforts. Not
just for myself, but for everyone.

 
          
But
that is not how it happened.

 
          
You
see, I was a solitary for the sake of the work, and the work required me to
create a magnificent self. All of my strength went into that. The splendid
impostor.

 
          
For
many Comings of the Leaves, I have been telling myself that doing battle with
him is too difficult, I am too old and tired. Surely I can postpone the battle
for another day. A day is nothing. Tomorrow I will begin the hunt. Tomorrow I
will stalk him until he leads me into myself.

 
          
But
as I blink up at the firelight dancing on the ceiling, I realize there may be
no tomorrow. . There may be no tomorrow, and I am condemned to spend my last
moments with a man I do not know at all

 
          
A
soft desperate laugh escapes my throat.

 
          
Blessed
gods, my gods. What a vast sparkling wasteland I carved in my heart.

 
          
For
the sake of the work.