“You didn’t sound like a nice man when I heard you joking with Stone Wrist.”
“I’m not a nice man. Whatever filled you with such nonsense?
I killed my wife, remember?” He glanced unhappily into the fire. “Tall Man was always too deep, too devious, for his own good. That’s what Power granted him.” He wove his fingers together. “And he wouldn’t have missed one last opportunity to hurt me. Is that it? Did he send you to hurt me?”
Star Shell slowly shook her head. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.
All I want to do is to get the Mask of Many Colored Crow to the Roaring Water, pitch it over the edge, and then … then … “
What? She stumbled on emptiness. What happened after she’d finished this?
“You’re a trap,” Pale Snake decided. “Though I’ll grant that maybe you don’t know you are. That slimy weasel had to take one last slap at my peace.” He paused, thoughtful attention on the dress and the way it accented her slender curves-. She was on the verge of a hot retort when he asked, “You’re sure that he didn’t give you any kind of charm?”
“Yes, I’m sure! Stop looking at me like that!”
He seemed not to hear. “I can’t figure it out. You’re perfect.
Beautiful, young, intelligent, and courageous, extraordinarily healthy—just the sort he’d have to bed,”
“Bed me! Don’t be a … ” The words died as she realized that he was watching her with eyes every bit as wary as her own. “Would you … would you explain that?”
“Women were his passion. He lived for seduction. Perhaps it was because he was a dwarf, perhaps because nothing was ever denied him. We should all be born so lucky.” Pale Snake’s expression had turned to stone. “That’s why he had to have her.
And not with any charm, but on his own.”
“Your wife?” Star Shell guessed from Pale Snake’s slumped posture. “But I thought you said that your father … By the sacred ancestors … no.” And it all came clear—the confusion, the words aimed past each other.
The stony expression didn’t change. “You didn’t know?”
She shook her head numbly. “I’m so tired, I can barely think at all. I just wonder what other obvious things I’ve missed lately. He said he had a son. I never … He didn’t give me a name.”
“It’s time to eat,” Pale Snake said woodenly. “Silver Water, your clothes are dry. You’d better get dressed before the night chill nips at your bones.”
As darkness takes hold, prickles run up and down Silver Water’s backbone. But it is more than the cold.
The owls and bats have gone silent. No frogs croak. Not even the wind dares to breathe tonight. Everyone here is afraid.
Silver Water kneels before the fire and studies Pale Snake from the corner of her eye. He is a sorcerer. She wishes she could talk to him—about the Mask, about the creatures moving in the forest. He sits only five hands away, but her mother is watching. Besides, he has his head down, and his jaw is clenched so tight that his cheek muscles are jumping. He doesn’t look like he wants to talk to anyone.
Silver Water bites her lower lip. A log breaks in the fire and bursts into flame, hissing and spitting.
Her stomach knots.
Beyond their camp, there are shadows. They slither through the trees like ghosts, their dark tongues flicking out. Tails flash as they slip between smoke-colored trunks. She doesn’t know what they are, but they … they look like snakes. Silver Water’s breathing is shallow. There are so many of them. Bright golden scales shine when, the light hits them just right.
“I’ll be back,” her mother says suddenly, and Silver Water jumps, her eyes following as her mother walks away toward the forest.
Should Silver Water warn her about the snakes?
No. She will shout at me. Ask me how I know. Ask if the Mask told trie.
Desperate, she watches long after her mother has disappeared into the maw of blackness.
Silver Water glances back at Pale Snake. He is studying the Mask pack, which sits on the other side of the fire. The Mask has been strangely quiet, as though it has run out of words to say. Or maybe it is just tired.
Pale Snake fingers his chin thoughtfully, and Silver Water leans toward him, whispering, “The Mask is sleeping.”
Pale Snake turns. His brows draw together. “I know,” he whispers back, as though understanding that she doesn’t want her mother to overhear their conversation.
Bravely, Silver Water shifts to face him. She wrings her hands, opens her mouth, but the words fly away.
Pale Snake waits for her to speak, then smiles. “What do you want to say to me?” Hoarsely, she asks, “Do you see them?” She uses her eyes to point out the serpents in the forest.