People of the Lakes(316)

IŤwill die for all of you.” Green Spider smiled sadly in the darkness. “Yes, my friend.

You, the ugliest man in the world, will die for the most beautiful woman. The Contrary has spoken.”

Black Skull nodded firmly, sinking down on the soft pack, lost in his thoughts.

“Tell me, Killer of Men,” the Contrary whispered, “if you could have her, would you change your mind? Would you live, knowing that you could love her for the rest of your life?”

Would he? His heart had skipped at the sight of her—looking so alone and frightened. She’d stared up at him with those wondrous eyes, and he’d felt his soul melt.

He glanced over his shoulder at Pearl, struggling with the wind trap. He couldn’t see Otter at the stem, but he could imagine the happy set of his face as his canoe ran faster before the waves than it ever had.

Black Skull raised himself again. “No, Green Spider. First I will save my friends. Only then will I attempt to save her. That is enough for the Black Skull. But if this other man doesn’t treat her correctly, my ghost will come and pay his soul a visit.”

Green Spider nodded. “Power knows your heart, Killer of Men. It has heard your words.”

“Good! Then my friends, and perhaps the beautiful Star Shell, will be safe.” He smiled at that, aware that his facial muscles worked better in Dreams than real life. But Star Shell hadn’t cared, she’d seen his soul.

Black Skull pulled at his blankets, stopping only long enough to pat Catcher and scratch his ears. “When I’m gone, Catcher, you guard them well. I’m putting a lot of faith in you.”

The dog licked his crushed cheek, and Black Skull resettled himself, closing his eyes. The swaying, the sound of water splashing, and the occasional droplets of spray that spattered him brought a sense of well-being. And to think, he’d once lain here, in this exact spot, cowering and quivering with terror.

He reached out, giving Wave Dancer a reassuring rub, and then closed his eyes and tugged the blanket up against his chin. Yes, he could still see her on the fabric of his soul. He studied the lines of her delicate face, seeking to learn them so that he could picture her even long after he was dead, killed by the Khota, or by the sniffing foxes that drove Star Shell toward him.

Death held even fewer fears for him now. And it wouldn’t be long. A couple of days at the most.

Star Shell’s legs ached from the cramped position in the canoe.

Wind ripped at her, thankfully coming from behind, but it carried just enough spray that she stayed perpetually wet and chilled. Despite having become slightly familiar with canoe travel on the big lake, she was still afraid of these huge swells.

Riding them in the darkness, in the gusting wind, and hearing the whisper of the whitecaps, didn’t reassure her any.

She tried to paddle hard enough to keep the cold at bay, but not so hard as to exhaust herself. She couldn’t allow that, not with Robin so close.

From the sound of the breakers rolling along the shore to their right, and by the surging white foam of the waves, Star Shell could mark their location. The night had dragged on—and Pale Snake refused to speak. When she looked back, she could see his dark form paddling mercilessly. But then the wind would whip her hair and cause her eyes to tear.

“Pale Snake? What did you see?” The first lifting of the night sky in the east indicated that a new day was fast approaching.

And—as he had done all through the night—Pale Snake said nothing. He might have become soulless, driven only by the flashing of his paddle and the swaying of his body with each stroke.

Star Shell gazed at her daughter where she slept huddled in water-silvered blankets.

Why won’t he speak? Fear fluttered like sparrows’ wings in her belly. Had the Mask done something to Pale Snake? Eaten his soul? Turned him against her? Was he even now planning on how to deliver her up to Robin?

Pale Snake felt dry and forlorn, as barren as dust.

He barely heard her pleading entreaties to talk, to explain what had happened. He locked his jaws, driving himself to paddle that much harder. The Mask had answered his questions.

Yes, Tall Man had sought to trap him—and the scheme had worked, partially at least. The ultimate betrayal had not yet occurred.

“But why?” he’d asked. “Why did my father send her to me?” “Justice,’” the Mask had told him, and before Pale Snake’s eyes, there flashed a series of scenes from the past. Those images had burned into his brain, and now he could begin to sort them out.

“Is Star Shell a trap? Will she destroy me?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

The Mask had given him the key to finding out. “Ask Star Shell about the woman that Tall Man wronged.” And then had come the warning: “Flee! Fast! Robin and his Blue Duck warriors are almost upon-you!”