“I don’t know. A hunch.”
Tall Man patiently packed the snow down with one of his small feet. “I poisoned her husband. He was a Trader. Brought obsidian from the far west. I was young. In love—and carried away with Power and all the things it had taught me. I thought that if he was … “
“Out of the way?” Star Shell crossed her arms.
“Yes. Out of the way. The Six Flutes Clan shared a valley with my clan. I’d loved her for years. Oh, she was so much older than I, but you’ve got to understand. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. And she had, well, an attraction that overwhelmed a man’s sense. It was her form of Power, and through it, she married one of the most prestigious men among the Flat Pipe people. Obsidian is a rare and important stone. The Trader she married was renowned. If he’d stayed at home more, perhaps things would have turned out differently.”
“All right, you killed him. That’s pretty drastic. If you could go that far, why didn’t you marry her?” Tall Man continued to tramp the snow flat, each step a deliberate act. “I’d never killed a man before. The poison I chose, water hemlock, has a deadly root. I made him a tea of it, used mint leaves to cover the taste. I watched him die. How could I go to her after that?”
“And her sister?”
“A simple treatment of gumweed eased her stomach complaint.”
He glanced up. “Listen to me, Star Shell. Deep down in her soul, she loved that Trader. No matter that she shared her blankets with others, she loved him. She never loved another in that same way. I ask you, never let her know what I did.”
To hide her unease, Star Shell stared at the mortar, where the virulent powder had left its stain. “I’ll fetch some kindling.
Burn this out. Then we’ll scrape it down to wood again.
Meanwhile, you go and fetch Clamshell’s blankets. I’m tired of lice.”
The Magician nodded, turning slow steps toward the bark covered house. As he did, the old woman and her dog stepped out into the sunlight. Clamshell shaded her eyes with a gnarled hand. Silver Water slipped out through the door, chattering animatedly to the old woman and patting1’the rickety old dog.
How many other secrets do you hide within that diminutive soul of yours, Magician? One thing’s for sure. I won’t ever underestimate you.
Wave Dancer bucked and rolled as Otter steered the big canoe across the open water. Gusts of wind interspersed with sheets of rain slapped at them. Even Green Spider seemed cowed by the weather. Moisture had ruined the bones he’d painted on his shirt. Now the pigments dripped from the fabric in a gray sludge.
He hunched under a blanket, reaching out periodically to pat Catcher. The dog had curled into a wet lump and lay shivering on the packs.
The only sounds were the sigh of wind, the hiss of rain on wood and water, the chop smacking the hull, and the bell-like sound of the paddles stroking and lifting.
Traveling upriver took a keen eye and an intuitive sense, developed from long familiarity with wind and water. Otter used all of his skills to read the river, judging where the path of least resistance lay. Generally, they traveled close to shore, away from the boiling center of the current. But on the Father Water, that meant crossing and recrossing the channel as it wound around in wide loops. Sometimes side channels offered the best route, but these changed over time, some silted in or the passage blocked by a fallen tree.
Nevertheless, they made good time, thanks in part to Black Skull’s endless strength. The warrior had a natural sense pf balance, and used all of his body. He might have been matching himself against the river—another battle to be fought, another challenge to be won. From early morning to late evening, his pointed paddle dug deeply into the roiling water, always pushing them onward.
Thick forest ran right up to the banks along this stretch of river, the dripping trees dark and brooding. People didn’t live close to the water here, for the floodplain was too broad. Instead, they built inland, where higher ground ensured that their settlements wouldn’t wash away in the spring flooding. A Trader had to know which tributaries to take to reach each of the clan territories.
Two canoes had passed them that morning, headed downstream, carried in the center of the current.
“Tree coming!” Black Skull shouted and rose to his knees, crabbing sideways with his paddle.
The mass of branches rolled down on them like a dangerous water monster as the forest giant tumbled in the current. Otter threw himself into the paddle, and Wave Dancer angled to the right of the danger. They passed well clear of the mess. Ugly spears of broken branches lifted from the brown waters, dripping as they arched over and dove again.