“And your Trade?”
“I give you the goods, your canoe, anything you want. Go where you will, Trade what you want … but come back with what you learn.”
“I’ll be back,” he promised, and at that moment, he heard the shout from above and looked up.
Many Turtles hollered again, pointing out across the river.
“What is it?” Grandmother hopped from one foot to the other, trying to see across the sun-bright water.
Otter shaded his eyes, making out the silhouettes paralleling the far bank. ‘ ‘ Khota, I think. Four canoes, each with ten … no, the lead canoe has eleven in it. Yes, the Khota, bearing the Anhinga woman, Pearl, northward to her betrothed.” He made a clicking with his tongue.’ ‘ girl.”
Grandmother had spotted them, her expression grim as the long, deadly canoes passed. “So she’s on her way to Wolf of the Dead? His father is Blood Wolf. His grandfather was Killer Wolf, as I recall … and wasn’t the greatgrandfather Man Eating Wolf, or something like that?”
“Something like that.”
“They do seem to enjoy colorful names, don’t they?”
Otter clenched his fist, squeezing the rag. “I guess they do.
But then, if you’re nothing more than two-legged vermin, maybe that’s how you entertain yourself.” “Wolf of the Dead,” Grandmother mused, eyes half-closed.
“He’s the one who claims he turns himself into a wolf, isn’t he?”
“That’s him. But I don’t think he can. If he did, the wolves would come from miles around to hunt him down. No self respecting wolf would allow him into their midst.”
“It is said,” Grandmother added softly, “that Blood Wolf killed your Uncle.” “More than that is said. Uncle wouldn’t let them rob him.
He had the nerve to stand up to them. They killed him, all right.
Filthy animals. All of them.”
“I remember hearing when I was a young girl about how the Khota moved into the Ilini valley. About the way they killed … and the fate of the women they enslaved. I hope this Pearl knows what she’sin for.”
“One of the times I was Trading with the Anhinga, I saw her. She’s a beautiful girl, but half-wild herself. Swims, dives.
Uses an atlatl better than most men. Her clan decided that she would never be of any use to them. They let her run wild. Said that no man would want her.”
The canoes were moving fast, flying upriver to the cadence
of paddles that flashed as they caught the sun. Otter watched them, the simmering hatred burning within.
“You should see the expression on your face,” the old woman said. “You look like something’s made you sick to your stomach.”
“I always feel that way when I have to think about the Khota.” He stood, feet braced, watching the war canoes as they passed safely out of sight. ‘ ‘ girl. No matter if she is wild, she deserves better than she’s going to get at their hands.”
Otter remembered Wolf of the Dead. At times, a bestial gleam lit the Khota warrior’s eyes, as if he really was filled with violent Power. Sometimes he lost all sense, screaming, slashing the air with his war club. Perhaps he couldn’t turn himself into a wolf, but something possessed him on those occasions. Something brutal and wicked.
If Pearl were smart, she’d drown herself in the river before she ever saw that gleam grow in her future husband’s eyes.
I clamp my hands over my ears to keep the terrible Silence out.
Still, it grows louder, louder, until I can’t stand it. I sit up in my blankets, gasping in pain … and suddenly the pain is gone.
So … it wanted to wake me. Why?
I look up at the night sky, so bright. Thousands of the Star People gaze down at me through twinkling eyes.
Faint voices echo inside my head. Ghosts. Only ghosts shout so loudly.
They grow clearer. Along with the crackling of the fire, shouts rise in horror.
That fool young man must have the Mask on again. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to hear the voices of the ghosts from this distance.
I shake my head, lie down once more and pull up my blankets.
There is nothing worse than an angry bunch of dead people tormenting the living, and demanding that everyone within earshot listen.
I close my eyes and try to sleep.
The storm that had been threatening for days finally broke on Star Shell and Tall Man. They had left the Salamander clan house, where they had spent the night, but had made scant progress before the sullen gray skies opened and fluffy snow fell.
Rather than brave the storm, they cut off from the Holy Road to Blue Duck territory. Shuffling through knee-deep snow, they entered the earthen embankment marking the clan grounds. Star Shell chanted the ritual blessing to the ghosts that inhabited the place. Was it just the storm, or did she sense the brooding disapproval of the Spirits? Wreaths of snow twisted down from the dismal sky, shrouding the grounds. They could barely see the charnel house as they trudged past, and the burial mound had become a shapeless mass.