After all, the girl was smart enough to ask for Four Kills, not for his dashing brother.”
Yellow Reed squinted, more in thought than against the rain.
And what was that silly stunt last night, Otter?
She sucked at her lips the way she did when she was preoccupied.
That copper plate had sparked gasps of amazement from the watching people. Red Moccasins had stood speechless, as if rooted.
Four Kills, for his part, had simply nodded, that worshiping smile beaming love at his twin brother—as if he were handed a clan’s ransom on a regular basis.
Otter continued to paddle with the deliberate stroke of a master.
The water had beaded on his foxhide coat and trickled down the broad planes of his face. He had a strong jaw, firm cheekbones, and the powerful nose of his family. At the moment, a faint smile hung on his generous mouth, and his hair was pulled back in a tight braid. Despite the layers of his clothing, Yellow Reed could sense the powerful muscles that rolled in those shoulders as he pushed the heavy canoe toward the nearing shore.
Yellow Reed said, “Red Moccasins has that younger brother … what’s his name?”
“Black Water.”
“Yes, Black Water. Perhaps we might want to give him a good look.”
Blue Jar cocked her head.‘“Thinking about marrying him to Clay Bowl?” She paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow.
“Or are you just hoping to get our copper plate back?”
Yellow Reed gave her a sidelong look. That plate would rankle for a time yet. She flinched under a gust of driven rain.
Would summer never come? A brittle chuckle came up her throat. Age must have, addled her. No one with sense longed for summer. All summer brought was hard work in the fields, heat, mosquitoes, chiggers, ticks, flies and ants, and centipedes.
She turned her mind back to the problem at hand. Black Water and Clay Bowl? Or should she be thinking in other directions?
“Do they like each other?”
Blue Jar shrugged. “She let him into her blankets last night.
I think it was her first time. They spent every spare moment staring at each-other afterward, so it must have been good between them.”
“Huh! What do young boys know about being good in the robes?”
“I think they’re planning on practicing.” Blue Jar shrugged.
“Many Turtles and I did—a lot.”
“A lot of good it did you! Twins! And you kept producing boys.”
“What about Black Water and Clay Bowl?”
“What would it hurt? Tall Cane Clan has access to that ridge area to the north. Remember when it flooded so badly last year?
That ridge was above the water. It might be a good place to plant squash. Not only that, but that backswamp out behind them is almost filled up with silt. In another four, maybe five years, that will be farmable. With the right marriage, we could benefit.”
“Unless they keep digging pottery clay out of that back swamp at the rate they are doing now.” Blue Jar studied her mother with bland eyes.
“Let them dig. They strain the clay through fabric to keep it fine … and they make good pots from it. A person can’t have too many pots. Not the way my granddaughters keep dropping them. Either way, we’re ahead.”
Blue Jar remained pensive for a moment before she asked, “Do you think it’s wise to link Clay Bowl to the Tall Canes?
We might be better served with a marriage to the City of the Dead. Perhaps among the Black Clan.”
Yellow Reed worked her toothless jaw back and forth, her eyes slitting. “It’s an idea. What prompted you to think of it?”
Blue Jar leaned forward, gesturing to the rear of the canoe.
“The story of that copper plate will travel. Not only that, I’ve listened to Otter. He’s right about the changes on the river. More people are passing each year. The river can carry more than peaceful Traders. It can also carry warriors. The future … it’s an uncertainty. An alliance with the Black Clan might be worth a great deal. Raiders would think twice … and if the worst came true, we’d have a place to go.”
Yellow Reed squinted at the muddy landing they approached.
When she looked back at Blue Jar, she asked, “Worried about the rumors of war among the Serpent Clans up north?”
. Blue Jar gave her a shrug. “Maybe. We need to talk to Otter.
Perhaps he heard something on the river. Not all of the Traders stop here to tell the news. With the marriage and all the excitement, well, there hasn’t been time to really hear what he has to say.”
Yellow Reed nodded. “As soon as we’re home and I’m warm, let’s talk to him.” She grinned. “Assuming, of course, that my worthless son-in-law has the fire roaring.”