People of the Lakes(82)
“Thank you for your kindness, Elder; but I wouldn’t want you to have to interrupt your conversation with—”
“Four Kills,” Grandmother called in her warning voice.
“The Clan Elder knows what’s best. Perhaps the Contrary doesn’t wish to be disturbed by stripling boys.”
Old Man Sun’s smiling expression sharpened. “Ah, I understand, young Four Kills. You wish to extend your courtesy in person. But, please, allow me to accompany you. It would be, well, better if I helped you to present your compliments to Green Spider.”
Grandmother’s voice had taken on an edge. “Four Kills, take that bowl right back where you—”
Old Man Sun’s raised hand cut her off. “Green Spider will be most pleased to see him, I’m sure.”
As the wizened Elder ducked through the hanging, Four Kills caught Grandmother’s scathing glare. Before she could say more, Old Man Blood tactfully distracted her—at least for the moment—with a question about the designs woven into her blanket.
Four Kills ducked inside, and almost ducked right back out.
His heart rose to thump in his throat.
Green Spider knelt in the dim red glow of the fire’s burned out coals, naked. His clothes lay on the floor beside him, and in front of him he had a bowl of white paint. He had smeared his body with black charcoal and painted long white lines down his arms and legs, paying particular attention to the disconnected bones in his fingers and toes. At this moment, he was patiently drawing lines across his narrow chest, atop the bars of ribs. He looked just like a skeleton risen from a moldering tomb. A skeleton without a head, since he hadn’t started painting his face yet.
“What … what’s he doing?” Four Kills asked Black Skull, who stood stoically by the door, a depressed expression on his ugly face.
The warrior’s mouth puckered. “The fool says he’s painting himself inside-out.”
“What for?”
“How do I know? He’s demented.”
“Didn’t you ask him?” “Certainly I asked. He said that flesh was a snare and that he had to get rid of it before he stepped into it and it caught him. He said that living inside his bones was like living inside ‘the rope.’ Does that make sense to you? Of course not. It doesn’t make sense to anyone with a human brain.”
Four Kills swallowed convulsively.
“Come,” Old Man Sun said with a smile.
The Clan Elder settled himself carefully on one of the benches to the Contrary’s right. He leaned forward, his thin old arms bracing himself like struts. He studied the Contrary for a moment, his ancient eyes—set deep in the mass of wrinkles— gleaming with excitement.
Four Kills knelt to one side, the bowl balanced in his fingers.
He could feel the heat of the stew. He waited awkwardly, wondering if Green Spider wouldn’t at least look at him, acknowledge his presence.
The Contrary stared thoughtfully at the white paint on his fingertip, and then down at his crotch. “Now that’s interesting.”
He glanced up quizzically. “What happens to the bone? I mean, where does it go?”
“What bone?” Black Skull asked..
“The one in my penis. What do you think? Should I paint it, too?” “Spare me,” the warrior whispered as he rolled his eyes at the roof.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Green Spider said seriously as he ran a line of white down his male part. “I can’t even spare myself.” “Green Spider?” Old Man Sun finally said. “The worthless being before you is Four Kills, son of Blue Jar of the White Shell Clan. As a measure of his disrespect, he brings you this foul-tasting mess in the hopes-that you will starve to death.”
Four Kills swiveled his head to gape and stare at the Elder.
Horror shot across his panicked nerves. “No! Wait! What are you sayingl That’s not why—”
Old Man Sun waved him down with a fragile hand. “It really is rude of Four Kills to insult you with such unconcern, don’t you think, Green Spider?”
To Four Kills’ wretched astonishment, Green Spider agreed: “Four Kills is a most vile man. He can take that disgusting stuff and throw it into the river. Let him poison the fish instead of me. May all of his ancestors spit on his manhood, and all of his sister’s children be born blind and without arms and legs.”
Old Man Sun turned amused eyes on the stunned Four Kills.
“Green Spider is delighted. Please hand him the bowl of stew.
Go ahead. What’s this? You snake-bit, boy? Or just froze from the neck down?”
Fighting the tremble that betrayed his hands, Four Kills handed the bowl over to the living skeleton, fully expecting Green Spider to dash it against the walls. Instead, the Contrary finished painting his last rib line, cleaned his fingers on the dirt floor, and sniffed the steam with a heavenly expression. He took the bowl and lifted the rim to his lips, drinking deeply, his throat working. When he’d drained the liquid, he plucked out pieces of fish meat, hickory nuts, and sunflowers with his fingers before popping them into his mouth.