“Thank you, Elder. The White Shell Clan is honored with
your presence. All that we have is at your disposal. Feel free to remain with us for as long as you like. We hope we may be of service.” “Well said,” Old Man Sky told him, looking around.”
“I’m afraid our arrival shocked many here.”
Otter shifted uneasily, glancing at Grandmother. She immediately seized the opportunity to speak: “The effect was somewhat like having First Man walk into your camp, Respected Elder. You caught us by surprise.” She jabbed Blue Jar, amusement in her eyes. “As soon as some of us find our tongues, we’ll be a great deal more hospitable!”
Chuckles came from the Elders; the tension began to recede … for everyone, that is, except the Black Skull, who continued to seethe. Four Kills—ever attentive to such things—remained wary.
“We are all potsherds,” Green Spider mumbled, frowning at the sherd he’d encircled. When he looked up, scanning the faces around him, most had turned uneasy again. “Did you realize that? You can see your lives copied in the potsherds.
From mud and water we’re made. Once born, we’re molded by a great many fingers, dried in our childhood, fired in the passions of our youth. As adults, we’re vessels, doing our work, carrying our goods, storing things for the Spirit World.
Then, one day, we’re dropped to smash on the ground. What’s left? Fragments. Some return to the earth. Other pieces, like those of the soul, are ground up for grog and used in new pots.”
Black Skull growled, “I’ll never see a crushed pot the same way again.”
And Otter realized where the warrior’s smoldering hostility centered.
Green Spider stared up absently., then pushed himself to his feet. With uncertain steps, he approached Otter; but those vacant eyes seemed to stare right through him to something on the other side of the world.
Green Spider reached out and placed cold hands on the Trader’s shoulders. Smudges of mud rubbed off on the fabric. “Are you ready, Otter? It’s a long way to the Roaring Water.”
“Roaring Water?” Otter glanced uneasily at the Clan Elders.
“First three … then four,” Green Spider went on. “And … and finally, six less one. Who will the one be? Do you know?
Can you guess?” He paused, frowning as his attention wandered.
“Yes. That’s what we must do. Time means everything … especially if you’re at the wrong place. It means nothing when you arrive where you need to be at the right moment. And for what? Will the world cease if a young girl dies? Will Power cease to pulse if a sacred Mask is drowned?”
“Drowned?” Otter tore his gaze away to glance anxiously at Four Kills. Images of his corpse Dancing in the current lingered.
“It doesn’t have to happen that way,” Green Spider insisted.
“Four. Kills Dreamed only one of many outcomes.”
Frost settled on Otter’s soul. “How … how do you know about my brother’s Dream?”
Green Spider’s eyes seemed to expand, sharpening with a terrible intensity. “The Power of water pumps with your blood.
The Water Spirits took you and gave you your life. They can take you back just as easily—as Four Kills Dreamed. A hero must be tested.”
“Tested? A hero? Me? “
Green Spider reached up, pressing his fingers against Otter’s face, feeling about as if to learn the shape of the bones beneath the flesh. Otter endured.
“Do you know the single greatest truth, Otter?”
“I don’t— Well, it depends, doesn’t it? Which great truth are we talking about?”
Green Spider grabbed the soft part of Otter’s nose, bending it back and forth. “The single greatest truth is that you must lose yourself to find yourself. It sounds so very simple, but it’s so very hard to do. Not just for Dreamers, but for everyone.
You can’t be a hero, Otter, unless you’re willing to give up what you want the most.”
“How about you, Green Spider? Have you lost yourself?”
He nodded, a dreamy indolence in his eyes. “Yes, Trader. I wanted order. I was desperate for it. I needed to understand the way Power worked, and the why of everything in the world.
Many Colored Crow showed me. Did you know that nothing is ordered, Otter?”
“I have often feared that might be the case.”
Green Spider tugged at one of Otter’s braids, then leaned close, placing a conspiratorial hand over his mouth. Otter hunched over to listen intently—and jerked back in alarm when Green Spider shouted at the top of his lungs: “All of the worlds of Creation were made as a jumble!” f Otter clapped a hand to his assaulted ear. “Are you crazy] You didn’t need to shout!”