“Anhinga? So maybe this Pearl made it?”
Otter fingered the woven grass. “I’d say that she’s caught on to the trouble she’s in. The poor girl must be scared to death.”
He sipped his soup and considered the prayer mat. “Generally, the Anhinga don’t make these unless the situation is dire. You know, someone is very sick, about to die. Or maybe someone is badly hurt.”
Black Skull reached for his bowl. As he dipped it full, he shot an angry glance at Green Spider, who was tracing patterns in the sand, apparently oblivious. Black Skull drank, grunted satisfaction, . nodded. “I’m surprised. This is excellent, Trader. You’d make some warrior a good wife.”
A cold gust pelted them with sand and whipped the fire around. Otter shielded his bowl and drank the last of his stew.
On impulse, he folded the prayer mat and tucked it into his shirt.
“Tell me more about these Khota,” Black Skull asked. “Do they normally travel down river this far?”
“No. Usually they like to wait for the Traders to come to them. Why take a chance on the river when you can do your dirty work on your own ground?” He paused, his voice dropping.
“And some people have long memories.”
Black Skull pursed his lips. “I thought so. I’ve only heard them mentioned. I’ve never known one of their Traders to come to the City of the Dead.”
“You wouldn’t want them to. They only bring trouble.”
“Trouble?” Black Skull grinned. With his broken jaw, it wasn’t pretty. “They’d only bring me trouble once, Trader.-”
“Is everything so simple for you?”
Black Skull’s piercing gaze gleamed in the firelight. “In battle, there are but two outcomes—and the only one I know is victory. That’s all there is, Trader. You win, or you lose.”
Green Spider piped up, “And you’ve always lost!”
Black Skull spit into the fire. “I’ve always won!”
“Win, win, win, always win,” Green Spider chirped.
“What I’d give to shut you up!”
To change the subject, Otter asked, “Green Spider, I want you to concentrate. Can you do that for me? Can you play a game? Remember how it was to be backwards. Can you talk to me like that?”
Green Spider’s attention focused. “Yes,” he mumbled, “I remember.”
“.Why have the three of us been chosen to save this Mask?
Why not someone who lives close to the Roaring Water? Why are we traveling so far to attempt this?”
Black Skull’s attention had sharpened the way a fox’s does when a grouse flutters with a broken wing.
Green Spider looked pained. His mouth puckered as if searching for words. “We aren’t expected.”
“Expected by whom?” Black Skull had stiffened.
“The gamblers.”
“What gamblers?” Black Skull leaned forward, his head slightly cocked.
Green Spider stared into his bowl as if he could see things in the last of the liquid. “Gamblers, dwarfs, children.”
“You see!” Black Skull threw up his arms. “You try to make sense out of him and what do you get? Irritation, that’s what! I ought to smack him in the head a couple of times. See if that straightens out his tongue!” “Yes, warrior,” Green Spider whispered. “Follow your nature.
Be what you’ve been—not what you could be. Smack them all. Lift your club and split the world.” A pause. “She’s told him, you know. She’s made a point of it … as if he didn’t already know.” “He? Who is he? Who’s told him? She made what point?
What are you babbling about?”
Power swelled in Green Spider’s eyes, burning blackly as he locked his gaze with the warrior’s. They stared at each other, sharing an intensity Otter could only wonder about.
Green Spider said, “Your mother. She’s told the Burning Wolf.”
“Bah!” Black Skull growled. “He’s a raving fool.” The warrior drank down his bowl of stew and got to his feet. The muscles in his face were twitching as he glared at the Contrary, but the usual arrogance had faded. Instead, something else, a glint of fear perhaps, flickered in those black eyes. In silence, Black Skull turned on his heel and walked down to Wave Dancer.
There he gathered his blankets.
Otter studied Green Spider suspiciously. “Why do you torment him so?”
The Contrary’s gaze seemed to focus at the base of the fire.
“Which stone cuts with the sharpest edge, Trader?”
Otter thought for a moment. “Obsidian.”
“Yes, sharp—and deadly. The Black Skull is obsidian. Like it, he cuts through life. So clean and painlessly.” Green Spider’s focus seemed to fade.