Green Spider circled the group, running backwards now, like a demented antelope, until he came to old Yellow Reed. His gaze wobbled as he blithely announced: “May all your children drop dead, and may you suffer horribly forever, Yellow Reed.
I hate having to meet your son. He and I will become great enemies.”
The old woman gaped, a strangled sound issuing from her throat. “Wh—what?”
A moan rose from the other women. Seeing them about to break and run, Black Skull leaped forward. “No! You don’t understand! It’s all right!”
“It’s all wrong!” Green Spider shrieked in his high-pitched voice. “Everything is wrong. Nothing is right. Wrong, wrong, wrong—”
“It’s all rightl” Black Skull bellowed, grabbing Blue Jar, who seemed the most likely to keep her head. “He’s Dreamed, you see. Become a Contrary! Do you understand]”
“That is the truth,” Old Man Blood said as he smiled and cuddled his pink conch shell to his chest. “We’ve come here to find young Otter. I think we need him very badly.”
“I don’t need him at all,” Green Spider said, making faces at the horror-struck little girls. “I hope he stays away all day.”
Black Skull rubbed his flushed face with a nervous hand.
“A Contrary?” old Yellow Reed asked, as if from far away.
“A Contrary,” Black Skull assured her. “He does every134 Kathleen O’Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear thing in reverse. Something about his Vision while he was dead.”
“Oh. Well, come to the clan house and we’ll … we’ll talk,” the old woman whispered, seeming to gather her wits. “This just doesn’t … doesn’t … “
“… happen to us every day,” Blue Jar finished.
My thoughts exactly. Black Skull shot a scathing look at the oblivious Green Spider. And as soon as I’m free of this maniac, I swear it … I’m going to kill something!
Seven
Otter knew a great deal about stone axes. For example, greenstone from the mountains south of the bend of the Guardian River was highly prized by all peoples. When ground to shape and polished, the stone took on a gemlike luster. Basalt, too, made good ax heads and adzes. To begin with, it could be formed by flaking and, if in a hurry, could be used in such condition. Better, however, to grind it into the final shape, since the edge angle could be controlled for a sharp, yet durable cutting tool.
The one thing Otter really knew was that he’d much rather Trade ax heads than use them. For the moment, he had a use polished handle clamped in his knotted hands. The thing was raising blisters on his palms. The paddles had left their share of calluses, of course, but the adze he now used had rubbed the skin raw. Besides which, his back felt like it had been hammered by mad Khota tribesmen swinging mauls.
Nevertheless, he persevered, crouched over, close to his work as the adze thwock-thwocked to the steady rhythm of his aching attack on the base of the basswood tree.
Sweat beaded to trickle down from his armpits and across his ribs, where the shirt soaked it up. An odor of smoke lingered pungent and heavy in the cool air.
“Need a break?” Four Kills asked as he walked up, a clamshell hoe in one hand. Charcoal-stained clumps of dirt clung to the white shell, and soot had smudged the fabric leggings tied with nettle-fiber cord around Four Kills’ calves.
“Are you absolutely positive you don’t want to burn this one down like all the rest?” Otter made a pained face as he straightened and tossed the adze from hand to hand. Blood began to rush through cramped places, bringing new life.
Four Kills had that pleasant smile on his face, the reassuring one that made the recipient feel that everything would be fine in the end. Charcoal had smeared down the side of his nose.
“This tree—” Four Kills patted the bark tenderly “—will give us many wonderful things. We’ll peel off the brown outer bark and strip the white inner layer. Once we boil that down, I will have enough fiber to twist and braid one of my ropes. Maybe even better than the last one I made. You know how much people will Trade for One of my ropes. No one on the river makes a stronger rope.”
“No, no one makes a stronger rope.” Otter rapped the bark with the adze. “And the rest of the tree will be dried, and the soft white wood will be used to make bowls, loom shuttles, fish traps, net floats, statues, masks. Anything that needs to be lightweight or takes lots of carving.”
Four Kills continued to smile blandly. “The basswood is one of our most treasured trees. I make my strongest ropes from them.” He shook his head. “But they seem to be getting rare.