People of the Lakes(299)
“Then we all died together,” she mused. “But for me, death came at the hands of Wolf of the Dead in the Khota clan grounds.”
“Death, life, change. I wonder if a person really knows when he goes from living to being a ghost. I mean, some must. If you look down and see a war dart sticking through your heart, that would be a pretty good indicator that you were dying, or dead.”
Pearl shuddered. “True. The same if you woke up in a tomb covered with dirt.”
“Or had your head cut off. Now that would be an interesting way to live as a ghost, wouldn’t it?” She smiled at their bizarre conversation, letting her soul travel out over the water. “So, you’re down here trying to decide if you’re dead or alive. And all because a girl chose you to father her child?”
He chuckled. “It’s not the choice, you see, but the reason for the choice. Women have always wanted me because of my fame. They wanted to couple with the Black Skull, the great warrior. They wanted the reputation, not the man. Shinbone’s daughter wanted me because of who I am … as a man, I mean.
Until we walked into their camp, she’d never heard of the Black Skull.”
The muscles in his face had begun to twitch. He continued more slowly. “I frightened her in the beginning. She didn’t want to be close to me. But somewhere during the Dance, she managed to see past the scars. The wonder of it is that she liked what she saw!”
“That bothers you? I like you, too. A lot: So does Otter, and even the skinny lunatic.” He sighed. “I’ve never been a likable sort. I never wanted to be. Look, I didn’t really like me—and I lived with me all the time. That’s why I wonder if I died out there, drowned and floated away. I dreamed that. Maybe it wasn’t a dream.”
“Maybe all that drowned and floated away was the part of you that you didn’t like.” The waves danced new patterns in the darkness, the lapping and splashing mixing with Otter’s flute music. “Do you like yourself now?”
The muscles in his crushed face relaxed. “I think I do. When I looked into that girl’s eyes, I saw a reflection of myself different than I’d ever seen before. When I touched her, it was with different hands than I had ever touched a woman with before. I’ve found myself regretting that I didn’t stay so I could keep on seeing that reflection in her eyes.”
“You could go back.”
He tossed a handful of sand into the water. “By the time we could get back, she’ll have determined whether the child is planted or not. She had a husband in mind. I don’t know if I could stand that. Not yet.”
She reached out, placing a hand on his muscular arm. “You had a taste of honey, and now you want the entire hive, regardless that the bees of ordinariness would sting you mad in the end.”
“Possibly.”
“Probably. Tell me, can you even go back to the City of the Dead and live as you used to? From what I’ve heard, you lived like the effigy on a stone pipe, with only one expression—hard, unchanging. To see the image was to see the reality. This was the Black Skull. No matter how many times you looked, the image was always the same.”
“You are right, Pearl. I’m not certain I can go back to that life, either.”
“What are you going to do when this is over?”
He shrugged. “First we have to see whether Power will let us live through it, and then we’ll have to travel all the way back to the Father Water, I guess. What do you think? Do I make a good Trader?”
“I’m not sure. I hear that you have a real problem getting value for a badger bowl.”
He rubbed his distorted face and vented a short laugh. “I’ve got to work on that. And on catching skunks, too.”
Like wolves of the night they moved, each foot placed carefully, hands parting the branches to allow their silent passage through the darkness.
A thrill fit to burst built in Robin’s breast as his warriors crept soundlessly out of the pitch-black brush screening the canoe landing.
I trained these men. I taught them these stealthy skills!
The Wind clan grounds lay like a sleeping monster, dark, humped, irregular against the landscape. Robin and Woodpecker had planned this approach downwind, away from the keen noses and ears of the camp dogs. Two small houses had blocked their path, but they had passed them without raising any alarm.
Robin needed enough canoes for his twenty warriors. The Wind Clan provided canoes, placed as they were on the Trade route north to the lakes; however, it was common knowledge that the clan didn’t just lend their canoes. They’d want something in Trade, and all Robin had to offer at the moment was the skill and daring of his warriors.