Mica Bird turned his attention to the hunched form propped next to his grandfather. A shriveled corpse. The dead man from the story. The body was just as Grandfather had described it: hollow pits where the eyes had been, mouth open, the expression pleading. One rigid hand hung over empty air, as if patting something. For a long moment, Mica Bird stared, haunted by the desolation reflected in the corpse’s posture. As if … yes, as if its soul had been looted away and only emptiness remained.
Mica Bird summoned his courage. “I … I came for the Mask.”
Two
‘ Grandfather’s stick-thin arms closed protectively around the familiar fabric bag that lay on his lap/When the old man tilted his head to look up, his face appeared wilted, as if eaten away from the inside. Through the shining white hair and the sunken flesh, the outline of the skull could be seen.
Grandfather whispered, “Leave here. Now, boy. There is nothing here for you. Only sorrow … pain.”
“I must have the Mask. You can’t take that from me.”
The old man hunched in silence, staring at the dust before his feet. Finally, he asked, “And what would you have from it?
Power? The ability to rule the clan? No, Mica Bird. Leave it here. This thing … this cursed thing destroys.”
Mica Bird couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to the hideous corpse. Brown strips of flesh cleaved to the brittle bones. Dry tufts of dusty hair still clung to the hardened scalp. Once-pliable lips had dried to leather and shrunk to a leering rictus, exposing broken teeth. The tattered remains of brightly dyed clothing— dust-coated and faded—fit the dwindled corpse like sacking.
Mice and wood rats had frayed the fine weave. Here and there, beads had fallen from the magnificent breastplate. What had once been the trappings of wealth and status now reeked of mold and decay.
Mica Bird hesitated. Where was its ghost? Hovering in the air? Was that the cold presence Mica Bird sensed?
Finally, he forced himself to meet his grandfather’s haunted eyes. “Why did you come here?”
“To die, boy. To die as I have lived. Alone, eaten away with hatred and selfishness. This Mask, its Power is that of death and misery. Don’t follow in my footsteps. You’ll destroy yourself.”
“Then why didn’t you bring it back before? Why did you keep it if it’s so horrible?”
The old man chuckled evilly. “Because’it wouldn’t let me.
You must understand, boy, that when you look through the Mask, Many Colored Crow lets you see. Is that what you want?
To see through a Spirit’s eyes? To see nothing but the weakness in others? To see how you can hurt people? Use them for your benefit? You will lose all of the beauty in the world. You will never see a sunrise and admire its colors—you’ll see only the possibilities that particular day might bring you. Is that what you want?”
Mica Bird straightened. “I would have that Power.”
Grandfather made a huffing sound. “You don’t know what you ask. Go home. Live your life. Be a farmer, and be happy.
Don’t ruin yourself. Don’t become another victim of the Mask.”
“Victim? I’ll be the most Powerful man among the clans.
With the Mask, Star Shell will marry me. I will become the leader of my people. I shall construct the greatest monuments ever built. My name will be spoken from the lips of generations still unborn.”
Grandfather’s head slumped forward. “Yes, it will give you Star Shell. But hear my words. You will never see her through loving eyes. When your children are born, you will see only what they can do for you, or what threat they might be to your status or your goals. You will never see your friends as they are, but for what they can gain you. You will lose that part of you which is human.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t suppose you would. But then, I have seen you through eyes different than anyone else’s. From the time you were little, I’ve seen this coming.”
“Then why did you ever show me the Mask?”
“Because it forced me to.” He coughed and wiped his dirty sleeve over his mouth. “That night in the clan house. I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t I who showed you the Mask. Raven Hunter … he did. He possessed me, as he’s possessed me from the moment I first looked through his horrible Mask.”
“Raven Hunter?”
“Many Colored Crow, Bird Man, call him what you will.
The Dark Twin, boy. The bloody brother of First Man. For everything there is an opposite. Without both sides, there could be no balance. No harmony. The Mysterious One made the world that way.”
“So, if you are possessed by Many Colored Crow, why does he let you tell me this now?”