Fatigue sapped the strength from Star Shell’s legs as she led the way to the clan house and stopped before the door flap.
Snow capped the high, rounded roof.
“Greetings!” Star Shell called out, numb and shivering.
Snow had matted her blanket and melted on her exposed face to trickle down and drip from her chin.
A head poked out past the deerhide hanging over the doorway.
“Who’s there?”
“Star Shell, from the Shining Bird Clan of the Sun Mounds, and Tall Man, Elder of the High Heads. We ask your permission to enter.”
The head ducked back inside, much to Star Shell’s surprise.
“It’s snowing!” To Tall Man, she added, “Perhaps they’re conducting clan business.”
The dwarf stood in silence, the mounded snow on his blanket making him look more like a stump than a person.
A thickly built man ducked through the flap, tucking a blanket around himself. He walked forward through the dimpled snow, head cocked. “Star Shell? What brings you here?”
At the cold tone, Star Shell gaped. “It’s snowing too hard to travel any farther!” She blinked through the fast-falling flakes.
“Robin? What’s the matter?”
He studied her cautiously as his blanket began to whiten. He had a thin-lipped mouth under wide cheekbones. His broad nose looked mashed onto his face, and those hard eyes were slitted, hostile.
“Mica Bird sent you?”
“No. I’ve been away … at Starsky. My mother died. I had to attend to the rituals. Are you conducting clan business? Did we come at a bad time?”
He watched her in stony silence.
Tall Man spoke up suddenly. “Indeed, I think we did come at a bad time.” He stepped forward. “Robin, of the Blue Duck Clan, I am Tall Man, an Elder of the High Head peoples. What has happened? Why do you act as if we come bringing trouble instead of as weary and cold travelers seeking a warm fire and shelter from the storm?”
“Forgive me, Elder. I didn’t recognize you. Blue Duck welcomes you to our territories and we offer our warmest welcome.”
“I thank Robin for his kind words, and the Blue Duck for their welcome.”
Robin fastened on Star Shell. “But you, woman, are a different story. Perhaps the Elder is unaware of who he travels with.” “What’s happened?” Star Shell asked.
“How long have you been away?”
“More than a moon.” She stiffened. “It’s Mica Bird, isn’t it? He’s done something. He … or the Mask.”
Robin hesitated, licked his lips nervously and stamped a foot in the snow. “You’re ‘ wife. Of his clan. You’re no friend of ours. Leave this place.” He glanced at Tall Man.
“Honored Elder, please enter and share our fire. We have heard of the great Magician.” He paused, his gaze straying back to Star Shell. “Although you travel in strange company.”
“Wait,” Tall Man lifted a shivering hand. “Tell us what has happened. Star Shell is not your enemy. Grant me this, Robin.
Let us at least warm ourselves, and tell us what has happened.
Hear Star Shell out, and then if you still believe her harmful, we will leave.”
Robin squinted for a moment, then jerked a nod. “Out of respect for you, Elder, we will listen. Otherwise, she could freeze to death in the snow for all the Blue Duck care.”
“May your ancestors be blessed,” Tall Man replied.
Star Shell’s dread grew as the old man followed Robin into the clan house. She shook snow off of her blanket before she ducked through the hanging, miserably wet and chilled.
The clan house had been built along lines similar to those in the rest of the Moonshell valley. The structure consisted of two oblong rooms connected by a covered walkway. The first of these rooms—the one she now stood in—served for entertaining visitors and for clan business discussions. She could cross it in ten paces lengthwise and seven crossways. The rear section, equally large, was reserved for rituals and the storage of sacred objects.
The room contained two fires that crackled and smoked; the smell of goosefoot cakes and venison added a rich aroma to the smoke-heavy air. Trophies hung from the ribbed interior wall, including war clubs, textiles, and dusty bags. Star Shell’s gaze passed over what looked like pottery at first, and only on second glance did she notice that painted skulls had been hung with the other trophies. Skulls, ‘ of the War Society—why would they bring them here?
She turned her attention to the people. To her surprise, no less than four tens of people, including the clan leaders, were present. They lined the wall benches and sat on blankets on the floor, their backs oddly stiff. Had their arrival halted a heated debate in mid-utterance? The old women studied her with open sourness, the young men with the fierce anger of stinging insult in their eyes.