People of the Mist (50 page)

 
          
“I
will be dead soon.” Green Serpent stared pensively at the fire. “The problem
will be Lightning Cat’s, or maybe Streaked Bear’s.” He glanced at Red Knot’s
supine skeleton. “Some of us thought that perhaps Red Knot would be more like
her grandmother. But what I saw, she was another one like her mother, letting
her desire outweigh her good sense.”

 
          
“The
Weroansqua could name Yellow Net as her successor.” “Maybe she will.” Green
Serpent studied the clay bowl of his pipe where the tobacco had stained it. “It
is being said that Shell Comb might marry Copper Thunder.”

 
          
Panther
straightened. “Indeed? And the Weroansqua has agreed?”

 
          
Green
Serpsnt blew smoke out through his nose. “I have heard that she will think
about it. So, if she says yes, then it would appear that one of your reasons
for Red Knot’s murder is gone. The Weroansqua really did want an alliance with
Copper Thunder and his fierce warriors.” “she agrees.” Panther’s pipe stem
tapped the few teeth left in the front of his mouth. “She might not want to say
no too quickly. The Great Tayac might take offense. With time, she has room to
maneuver.” He glanced at Red Knot’s skeleton again. “What of it, girl? Does any
of this make sense to you?”

 
          
“She
tried to tell me,” Green Serpent said, his sad gaze on the rendered bones.
“Tried to tell you?” Panther asked gently. “When?”

 
          
“The
morning she died.” Old Green Serpent rubbed his face. “Her ghost walked through
the House of the Dead. I was asleep in the front room, and she walked past me.
I saw her in my dream. I think she came to join her ancestors. She’s been here
ever since.” He looked up at the platform of bodies encased in their wrappings.
“She’s up there now. Sometimes, when I’m half-awake and the soul loosens, I
hear her. She’s trying to tell me something, but she’s sobbing so hard that I
can’t make out the words.”

 
          
Panther
stared up at the platform, wishing mightily that Red Knot would simply appear
and speak out. If only she would, he could name the murderer, and have Sun
Conch return him to his island.

 
          
Too
many memories are stirring. You’ve your own ghosts to worry about, Panther. But
unlike Red Knot’s, yours are malevolent.

 
          
Panther
snorted in irritation and stood, thinking that the time had come to leave. It
was then that he saw Red Knot’s skull again in the flickering firelight. He
stepped close, bending down. “Did you do something to these teeth?”

 
          
Green
Serpent was staring into the fire, his eyes unfocused —seeing the ghosts, no
doubt.

 
          
“Kwiokos,
did you do something to these teeth?” Panther said, a little louder.

 
          
“I,
ah, what? What did you say?” Green Serpent blinked to clear his vision. “What
was that?”

 
          
“There
is something wrong with these teeth,” Panther repeated. “Here, look. Right here
in front. She’s supposed to have those two big flat teeth. But the one next to
it on the right side ought to be smaller, and flat, like its match on the other
side of her mouth. Instead, it is just a peg. Did you break it?”

 
          
Green
Serpent stooped over the girl’s skull and squinted down his nose. “Oh, no.
That’s not broken. I noticed that tooth when I was cleaning her skull. It just
grew that way.”

 
          
Panther
bent close, aware of the odor of decay that hung on Red Knot’s picked bones.
Now he could see that indeed the tooth wasn’t broken, but rather just
malformed.

 
          
“Well,
good.” Panther straightened. “I thought for a minute that she might have been
hit in the mouth. A blow that we missed.” “No, no. There are only the dents in
the side of her head.” Green Serpent tilted his head to peer at the fractures.
“I had to be very careful when we pulled the brain out. You said you wanted
those wounds left just as they were. I did my best to leave them unaffected.”

 
          
“You
did just fine.” Panther straightened. “In fact, I couldn’t have done better
myself.” He cocked his head, still studying the girl’s grinning skull. “So, Red
Knot, your mother is going to marry Copper Thunder? Isn’t that a curious turn
of events.”

 
          
“It
would keep the alliance,” Green Serpent reminded.

 
          
“Yes,”
Panther said thoughtfully. “But an alliance with what?” And his gaze fixed on
the two indentations in the side of Red Knot’s skull.

 
          
Panther
walked behind Nine Killer, placing his feet in the footprints the short War
Chief left in the snow. Sun Conch followed a pace behind, her wary attention
fixed on the ground that rose to their right. To their left the water of the
inlet rippled, cold and gray in the reflected light of the clouds. Across the
inlet, Panther could see the distant tree-covered shore.

 
          
Panther
puffed out a breath that rose frosty before his face. The snow crunched
underfoot. The only sign of life was the ducks that huddled in tens of tens on
the water.

 
          
“Elder,
I am asked to escort you to Shell Comb,” Nine Killer had told him. “She said
for me to take you to the sweat house. She will talk with you there.”

 
          
“Indeed?”
Panther had said, interest kindled within. And so he had come here to the low
structure next to the water. As they approached the building, he could smell
smoke from the fire out front and see small streamers of steam slipping around
the gaps in the roof.

 
          
Nine
Killer slowed and called out, “Shell Comb? I bring you The Panther, as you instructed.”

 
          
She
answered from inside: “Thank you, War Chief. That will be all. You are
dismissed.”

 
          
Nine
Killer lifted an eyebrow, gave Panther a look of worried amusement, and
whispered, “Good luck,” as he passed by.

 
          
Panther
nodded to Sun Conch, who gave him an equally worried look, then took her
position beside the building.

 
          
Panther
pulled back the hanging and ducked inside into the muggy heat. For the first
couple of steps, breath stuck in his throat, the steam choking him. As the flap
fell back in place, his snow-bright vision could see nothing in the blackness.
A hand reached out and took his.

 
          
“Come,
Elder, sit here beside me.” Shell Comb led him to a mat and helped him to be
seated.

 
          
Panther
gasped for breath, fighting the smothering steam, and slipped his old blanket
from his shoulders. “Excuse me,” he rasped. “It’s been a while since I’ve been
in a sweat lodge. It will take a while for my old skin to adjust.”

 
          
“I
come here a lot,” she told him. “It helps me to think.” Then she added, “You might
want to undress. You’ll roast. Or worse, step out into the cold in damp
clothing and become sick.”

 
          
He
grunted, and pulled his hide shirt over his head before pulling the flap of his
breech clout out of its belt. Shell Comb took his garments and set them outside
the door flap as he removed them.

 
          
He
rubbed his hands over his arms. “The stories tell us that in the beginning,
First Woman lived in a place bathed by steam, that it cleanses the soul, and
renews the body. It is said that a person can never be truly refreshed unless
they sweat in the steam and wash in cold water.”

 
          
“Do
you believe that’s true? About First Woman?”

 
          
“Sometimes.”

 
          
“I
believe it,” Shell Comb said. “I think that’s why I’ve kept my health, and my
youth.” She paused. “Tell me, Elder, do you think I’m an attractive woman?”

 
          
He
chuckled. “At my age, I think that all women are attractive. But that’s all I
can do .. just think.”

 
          
She
laughed with him, then was silent. Panther took the moment to catch his breath,
his skin prickling from the heat. Moisture had begun to bead on his bushy
eyebrows, and he could feel the heat working into his old joints.

 
          
“You
sent for me,” he finally said. “Since the charms of my body have long since
faded, I assume you have something else in mind?”

 
          
He
could almost see her now, a dim figure in the darkness and swirling steam. She
seemed hunched, head down. “Have you discovered who my daughter’s murderer is?”

 
          
“No.”
He tilted his head back. “The curious thing is that everyone I talk to appears
to have a reason for killing her. This daughter of yours seems to have stirred
a great many people’s passion.” He turned his head to look at her. “I hear that
you wanted to go to war with the Mamanatowick the morning she was killed.”

 
          
“I
was upset, Elder. Desperate to do anything, to strike back. Winged Blackbird
was out there. It seemed only logical that he’d killed her.” Shell Comb paused.
“What would you think if it was your daughter? I’m still not sure that he
didn’t do it. The way she was left, unmolested, that might have been cleverness
on Winged Blackbird’s part.”

 
          
“You
sound like you are still trying to convince yourself, Shell Comb. Why is that?”

 
          
She
shrugged. “It would make things a great deal easier, wouldn’t it?”

 
          
“Would
it?” He waited for her to answer her own question. “Why?”

 
          
“Because…
well, we wouldn’t have to face the truth.” She sounded uneasy. “I wish we could
just start over, make believe this never happened, and give everyone a second
chance to do things right.”

 
          
“Give
the murderer a second chance?” Panther frowned. “What makes you think he wants
one? Red Knot’s killer was driven to an act of desperation, Shell Comb. That’s
why Red Knot was killed. She was doing something, or knew something that
compelled someone to kill her.”

 
          
He
heard Shell Comb’s breath stop short, and her shoulders slumped miserably. A
moment later, he heard sniffling sounds and reached out to pat her shoulders.
“There, there. Grief, like all things, eventually passes.”

 
          
“I—I’m
sorry,” she mumbled, and sniffed. “All this time, I keep trying to be the
dignified woman that everyone expects me to be. What you said … it just…”

 
          
He
snorted half-derisively. “Well, to tell you the truth, your lack of apparent
grief had begun to bother me. A mother generally doesn’t lose a daughter
without weeping, hair-pulling, and hysteria.”

 
          
“Not
when you are the Weroansqua’s daughter,” Shell Comb said wearily. “Such things
are for others, not for the pride of Greenstone Clan.”

 
          
At
the tone of her voice, Panther asked, “So, tell me, do you think your mother
could have had Red-Knot killed?”

 
          
Shell
Comb’s head remained bowed. Only after a long moment did she say, “No.”

 
          
“And
why not? Surely she understood just how dangerous a marriage with Copper
Thunder would be.”

 
          
“Dangerous?”
She shifted, staring at him through the darkness. “You don’t understand, do
you? We’re losing, Elder. Cycle by cycle, the Mamanatowick tightens his control
on our southern borders. Stone Frog and his Conoy raids from the north are
taking a toll. We can no longer spare the warriors to send on punitive
expeditions. With the growth of the Great Tayac’s strength on the upper river,
the balance has been changed.”

 
          
“The
way Okeus made the world, it is supposed to change.” He paused. “And, I think
if you decide to go ahead and marry the Great Tayac, you’ll have plenty of
opportunity to live dangerously. In a very short time, you’ll regret that
decision.”