The old woman shook her head, muttering to herself. She half turned, her ancient eyes on the pack. “Thought I heard it calling to me. You know, trying to form pictures in the fire.”
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
“Not much. Funny thing, isn’t it? You’d think that the older you got, the more you’d need to sleep. Me, it seems as if I never do anymore. That, or I sleep while I’m awake. Can’t tell the difference between dreaming at night and dreaming during the day.” She cocked her head. “Of course, when I’m young, and the men are with me, I must be dreaming.”
Clamshell made faces as she stretched her bent body. Then she slowly settled before the fire again.
“I want to thank you for hiding us here. I hope we won’t be any trouble.”
“No trouble. Not when it’s the Magician.”
“How long have you known him?”
Clamshell’s head stabilized for a moment. “Since I was … oh, let’s see. He saved my sister’s life. Did I tell you about that?”
“Yes.”
“For a long time, child. A long time. Dwarfs have Power, you know. And him, well, he has more Power than anyone I know.” She blinked at the fire. “Thought his child would be short … like him. But he came out normal.”
“You had his child?” Star Shall gaped, then glanced at the mounded blankets where Tall Man slept.
“A long time ago,” the old woman whispered. “A long, long time ago.”
Fifteen
Morning had dawned clear and crisp as they paddled into the main current of the Father Water and bent their course to the north. Black Skull had to concede that the Trading session at the Green Turtle clan grounds hadn’t been so bad after all. In fact, he felt fine for the first time since leaving the City of the Dead.
And to think I was nervous.
The canoe wobbled, and Black Skull glanced behind him.
Green Spider was playing a silly game with the Trader’s dog, Catcher. He’d skitter his fingers across the top of the heavy fabric pack like they were some sort of curious bug; then, as the dog slapped a paw at the crawling thing, the lunatic would grab the dog’s nose and make a whooping noise. For the dog, this was all splendid joy, happy whimpers, and tail-wagging.
For those engaged in the serious business of propelling the canoe, it meant no little pitching, bobbing, and rocking as mutt and lunatic cavorted amidships.
Yes, it was the fool’s fault. How could a man—a warrior— maintain any semblance of discipline in the face of a gibbering idiot like Green Spider?
The river rolled and coiled placidly this morning, the smooth surface reflecting the light like smudged sijver. Overhead a V of geese honked and flapped toward the knotted woods and the quiet backswamp that no doubt lay there. A cool breeze—not even enough to mar the water—blew from the south.
Black Skull’s muscles warmed to the paddle, and he relished making the big canoe fly over the calm water. The Trader was a good partner in a canoe. He had strength and superb stamina; but then, what should Black Skull expect? Otter had been paddling all of his life. He seemed to live for it.
“Left!” the Trader called. “Work for that backwater. See, where the surface is glassy and smooth. We’ll make good time there.”
Black Skull put his back to the task as Wave Dancer arrowed for the stiller water. They worked in closer to shore, taking the inside of the river’s curve. Marshy grasses and canebrakes bearded the shallows they skirted, while farther back, cottonwoods had found a tenuous hold in the muddy bank.
Black Skull bit off a curse as Green Spider and the cur tipped the boat dangerously to the left.
A lone duck quacked as it skimmed low over the water, veering wide around the canoe. The air carried the musky scent of the big river, thick and cloying in the nostrils.
Black Skull grinned. Despite the annoyance of Green Spider’s game, it had turned out to be a fine morning after an even finer night in Green Turtle village. Yes, I could come to like this.
In fact, why should a man return to the City of the Dead when he could be treated so magnificently by these little isolated clans?
They’d put in at a small canoe landing below Green Turtle clan holdings, unseen and unheralded. Otter had rummaged through one of his packs while Green Spider waded ashore and began poking his finger into the mud.
Black Skull had taken up his weapons, nervous at the silence.
Unease had stalked him all the way up the little tributary to the Green Turtle landing. Nerves, that was all. The result of too many days in the presence of the fool. What warrior wouldn’t expect the worst after listening to the lunatic’s ravings for days on end?