Old Slate took a deep breath, raising her clenched hands.
Tendons stood out on her thin old arms. “He hung himself. First he ripped a hole into his grandfather’s grave and pulled out the bones, and then he went into the clan house and … did what he did.”
“My clansman, my cousin, is dead. His son is maimed, blinded in one eye. I have come to avenge them, and I will see to it that I make my cousin’s ghost rest easier.” Robin straightened.
“Where is Star Shell?”
Old Slate shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What about the High Head dwarf, the Magician?”
Old Slate appeared beyond deception. “I don’t know that either.”
“It’s the Mask!” Fat Lips cried, stepping close. His hair hung in loose strands; panic glittered in his eyes. “That’s what did this to us.”
Robin bent down to glare into Old Slate’s face. “Where is the Mask? Did you burn it, too?”
Old Slate rubbed a dirty hand over her wrinkled face, smearing the soot. “No. The Magician brought it out. At least J\ think he did. We were all so shocked. I mean, that my cousin wouw … would … ” “Your cousin did us all a favor,” Robin concluded. “But this isn’t finished. Not for me or for my warriors. I want that Mask!”
Old Slate just shrugged.
Fat Lips pushed his way closer. “That Magician, he stole it!
Stole it, I tell you. We’d be a lot better off if we’d burned it like we said!”
Robin placed a hand on Fat Lip’s shoulders. “Where is Star Shell? Where did she take the Mask?”
Fat Lips slowly shook his head, giving Robin a blank stare.
“Gone. Somewhere. Gone. That’s all. She took her daughter and left. The Magician said he’d solve our problems after we burned the clan house. We did that yesterday. We were supposed to meet again, afterward, you see. And he’d tell us how to solve the problem of the Mask.”
“What were his exact words, do you remember?”
Fat Lips frowned, his mouth working. Then he nodded. “I think he said, ‘ you wait to make a final decision, I can offer you a way out of this dilemma by tomorrow night.’ Yes, that’s what it was, wasn’t it?”
Old Slate jerked a weary nod. “That’s what he said.”
Fat Lips rubbed the back of his neck. “That would have been last night. That’s when he said he’d offer us a way out.”
“Fools!” Robin hissed. “He was planning all along to take the Mask! Why didn’t you realize it? And no one saw them after that?”
“No.” Fat Lips glanced around. “I’ve asked. They disappeared.”
“So, that was the way out,” Old Slate mused. “The Magician knew you’d be coming here, that you’d want the Mask.” Her shrewd eyes sharpened. “Robin, take my advice. Go home.
Shining Bird Clan will help you appease your angry ghost.
We’ll come and make offerings at his burial. The Mask has created enough trouble. Let it go.”
“I want that Mask!”
Old Slate seemed to have recovered some of her spirit.
“Why? So you can go the way of my cousin? Look out there at the ashes, Robin. Is that how you hope to end? Your ghost h$rnnaed in by guardian stakes? Feared by all? No. Mark my words, boy. Follow that Mask and your soul will spend eternity forgotten in the cold darkness.”
He stiffened
“Perhaps I would rather serve Many Colored Crow than take your advice.”
The old woman shook her head. “You want to serve yourself.
I expect the Mask knows that, too.”
Robin spun on his heel and walked back to where Woodpecker stood. Meeting the warrior’s eyes, he ordered, “Divide into small parties. Scout out all the roads. They can’t have gone far. Star Shell, her daughter, and the Magician shouldn’t be too hard to track.”
Woodpecker’s thin body belied his strength and endurance.
He wore a feather cape over his thick winter shirt. Fabric leggings kept his legs warm. He glanced uncomfortably at the sky.
“In the beginning, it was just Star Shell and Mica Bird. But the Magician’s involved now. I don’t need to remind you of how Powerful a dwarf is.”
“I know, and yes, my friend, I understand the danger. But I will be very, very careful.” Robin lowered his voice. “I’ve swallowed a pearl wrapped in mint leaves.”
‘ ” s. protection against sorcery!”
“Precisely.” Robin gripped Woodpecker’s shoulder. “Now, assemble the search parties. Our quarry can’t be far ahead of us.”
Woodpecker didn’t look convinced. “It’s going to snow again. The tracks will be hard to find.”