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People of the Lakes(23)

By:W. Michael Gear


“Mica Bird isn’t strong enough to cope with the Mask.” Tall Man clasped his hands. “His grandfather was stronger. Nevertheless, it destroyed him, too, in the end. Now, in addition to the Mask’s influence, the grandfather’s ghost is tormenting Mica Bird. Your husband should never have brought the body back and buried it in the clan grounds.”

“Is that what he hears? Is that why his Dreams are tortured?”

“The old man knew that the Mask should not fall to his heirs, but the Mask understood what he planned. Before the old man could take the Mask back to the place where he found it, the Mask spoke to your husband, thereby ensuring it would be recovered.

“But what can I do?”

“For the moment, nothing. As long as Mica Bird wears the Mask, he is too Powerful. His time, however, is limited.”

Star Shell stiffened. “I don’t understand.”

The Magician’s expression of sympathy deepened. The compassion of the ages might have been staring at her through those gentle eyes. “Neither does your husband. He is caught in a struggle he can’t comprehend. It is tearing him apart.”

“Yes, I—I know. But isn’t there a way to stop it? To save Mica Bird?” She glanced at the honeyed color of the matting and the bundles hanging along the walls. The High Head designs on the large pots seemed to waver in the light.

Tall Man sighed wearily. “Power discards people it no longer needs. When Power acts, young Star Shell, you must be ready.”

“Ready? For what?”

Tall Man’s eyes seemed to expand in the shrunken face.

“Whether you like it or not, Power needs you to restore the balance.”

She shook her head slowly, a heaviness, like a cold rock, in her stomach. I just want my husband cured of this. Please, can’t I have my husband back the way he was? “No … no … not me. I’m not the one you want.”

“There is only one solution, young Star Shell. The Mask must be taken away, placed where men can never retrieve it. First Man has told me of such a place.”

“I’ll burn it!”

The wise old eyes measured her. “You have just cremated your mother—to free her Spirit. Burning will only free the Mask’s Spirit. No, First Man has given me a Vision, shown me a place. We must take the Mask there. You and I. Far to the north—at the Roaring Water. There the Mask will be safe, and balance restored.”

“Balance?” Her voice had gone faint.

“The Mask is not evil, though its Power comes from Darkness.

Young Star Shell, you must understand. At the time the Mask was created, it was necessary. It kept the world in balance.

The Mask changed the High Heads, brought them into a new age. But then, you will learn these things in due time.”

Star Shell sat in misery, unable to think.

“The problem is, young Star Shell, that Many Colored Crow knows we will seek to remove his Mask. As I told you, when Power is stirred, all the tendrils are affected. Many Colored Crow has chosen his champions, though they know not what they are called for. We are in a race, Star Shell—you to remove the Mask, they to keep it. I must ask you, are you strong enough to see this through?”

Star Shell’s lips parted, but she couldn’t speak.

“I will help you,” Hollow Drill added.

“No, old friend. First Man has taken a calculated gamble.

Were he to increase the stakes, we could tear the world apart in much the same way Mica Bird is being driven to madness. I have seen the way it must be. This must be done in secrecy.

The Mask has touched Star Shell, shown her the terror it holds for those unable to withstand its Power. You, my friend, and your clan, can have no part in this. Power has spoken. It has chosen Star Shell.”

As she watched, the fire sputtered, sending smoke twisting as it rose toward the dark roof.

Three My gut tightens as I fall through dark nothingness. I spin, weightless, out of control. I am going to die … “Hold on,” a voice commands.

“A man can’t hold on to nothing!”

“Try, just … try.”

I throw my arms wide, feeling the rush of air as I plunge downward. Then I draw my arms together, embracing … the wind. And I slowly tumble sideways, and catch myself by curling my toes.

“But how can this happen? There is nothing here in this terrible darkness to hold to.”

“Things work differently here. Green Spider. You have crossed from the world of the living, brought here by Power.”

“Where am I?”

“In the City of the Dead.”

“Then … I am dead?”

‘ ‘ a while, Dreamer.”

“I don’t want to be dead … “