People of the Lakes(71)

“At that point, Green Spider looked out over the land.” Old Man North seemed to slump. “There he saw all the world, and the peoples upon it. Tears were in their eyes, and the souls of the Dead were sad. The plants in the fields wilted, and the deer hid themselves in the thickets. Clouds covered the sky, but no rain fell. The land became as winter.”

People swayed on their feet, somber as they cast furtive glances at each other. The silence seemed to hold them as firmly as a bass wood rope.

“Then the Spirit of Many Colored Crow approached Green Spider,” Old Man Blood related. “He told him—as I am telling you—that if Green Spider would become a Contrary, Many Colored Crow would show him a way to save the woman, the little girl, and the Sacred Mask … but that to do so would take a great deal of courage and dedication.”

“So Green Spider followed the Spirit of Many Colored Crow,” Old Man Sun declared, raising his hands again. “And Many Colored Crow began to teach Green Spider the way of the Contrary.”

“And that was when First Man appeared out of a haze as golden as when the sunlight pierces the morning mist,” Old Man Sky cried. “First Man, assuming the shape of a wolf, then of a Thunderbird, and then of a rattlesnake, demanded to know what Many Colored Crow was doing! Many Colored Crow explained that Green Spider would become a Contrary, and would save the new Dreamer!”

“And then,” Old Man North bellowed as he shook his fists, “First Man and Many Colored Crow argued. They fought back and forth as they had when the world was new. The Earth Mother was awakened by their noise and came up from her cave in the underworld and scolded them, and told them they were acting like children!

“First Man smiled at his brother, and golden light shot out to gleam on the rainbow feathers of Many Colored Crow. And First Man said: ‘ well, I will let Green Spider try to save the child. If he will become a Contrary, he will become a good man. Power does not always work as we would wish it, brother.’ “

Old Man Blood cradled his conch shell to his breast. “Many Colored Crow looked at his brother, First Man, and said, ‘ Spiral is shifting. Your Dream is no longer only yours. All we can do is wait—and try to prepare the people.’ And at that, First Man nodded, and vanished.

“So Green Spider was taught the pathway of the Contrary.

Then he was introduced to his ancestors, who gave him a feast in the City of the Dead. They all gave him advice on being a good Contrary. Finally, when they thought they had prepared him, they sent him back to us.”

“And that’s when he woke up in the tomb,” Old Man Sky told them. “That is the Vision, the experience he had when he was dead.”

“And that is why we have come here,” Old Man North added. “The advice that Green Spider got from the Land of the Dead was to take Black Skull and Otter with him on his journey northward toward the Roaring Water. The ancestors said that if they all did their best, they could save this Spirit Mask and this child, this Dreamer.”

So, I was chosen.

Otter glanced up, meeting Red Moccasins’ eyes again, noting how her lips had parted. She shook her head, then tried to smile bravely. She whispered something to Four Kills and started to work through the crowd.

Otter eased away into the darkness. Of course she’d want to talk to him. But what could she say’ now that would make things any different? The words were exhausted between them.

He ducked around Grandmother’s house, circling the side of the crowd where the old woman had just been. Then he cut behind Red Dye’s house. Head down, he traced his way through the dark clan grounds and paused at the hump of the burial mound. So much was happening. A knot of frustration choked at the base of his throat. He could feel the ghosts of his ancestors, and they seemed to whisper to him. Straining, he failed to catch their words, and nodded out of respect be174 Kathleen O’Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear fore ambling forward aimlessly. Out of habit, he checked the storage hut.

Catcher greeted him happily. His tail lashed the air—fit to cut ghosts in two. The hot, happy tongue licked Otter’s hand, and Catcher jumped and bounded.

“Soon, my friend,” Otter promised, dropping down to wrestle with the shaggy dog. “Everything all right? No thieves in the night have come to take our goods?”

Catcher made a muffled sound as he stretched his front end and yawned. The stretch moved back to stiffly extended hind legs and a curved tail.

Otter smiled wanly, grabbing hold of the dog, hugging him close. For a long moment, he savored the warmth, burying his face in the animal’s fur. The dry scent of the dog soothed the ache in his soul. Red Moccasins’ face floated there, haunting him, twisting the hurt that lived like a blade inside him.