“Understand? Understand what?”
“The Dream I had two summers ago. I knew that Musselwhite would bring me the Lightning Boy, but I did not know under what circumstances.”
“What are you talking about?”
Cottonmouth wet his lips. “She is marrying a Lightning Boy, Diver. His name is Pondwader. He’s from the Heartwood Clan.”
“Yes … I recall him. He’s very young, isn’t he? Ten-and-four summers? Maybe ten and five?”
“Ten-and-five summers. His own clan is terrified of him. I have, of course, known about his existence from the day he was born, but I had no idea that he would be her husband when she brought him to me.”
Diver shook his head, trying to clear away the fever. He felt as if he were floating on a hot steamy cloud. “You … you have Dreamed of this?”
Cottonmouth nodded. “Oh, yes. I know exactly how it will happen. I even know where. I just don’t know when.”
Diver forced himself to concentrate. “Tell me. What will happen?”
Cottonmouth stretched out on his side and braced himself on one elbow. He casually pointed to a large oak draped with hanging moss which sat on the northwest side of the village. Children played beneath it, laughing, squealing. “She will launch her attack from over there. Now, listen carefully, because you play a very big part in this. You will call out to her, and she—”
“I will?” And at that moment Diver vowed he would never call out to her, not if the survival of the world depended upon it.
“Of course. Why do you think I had to capture you? It is only because of you that I am able to capture her. After you call out, she turns, startled, and then my warriors burst from their hiding places in the brush, and I walk forward … .”
Twelve
Moonsnail sat wearily on a pile of soft blankets in the rear of her shelter, watching Kelp scrub Pondwader’s long white hair. The leatherleaf shampoo ran in foamy tufts down his pink temples and cheeks. He kept flinching and squirming. Too weak to do it on his own, he obviously felt indignant about having his sister do it. He had bathed earlier in the afternoon and now sat on a mat by the hearth, dressed in a breechclout and sandals. His marriage robe, long and dark blue, hung on the pole to Moonsnail’s right. When the soft bodies of murex were extracted from their shells, dried and boiled, they yielded a magnificent yellow dye, which turned a rich bluish purple in the sunlight. The color suited Pondwader. Tens of baby lightning whelk shells scalloped the front of the robe and covered the sleeves, clicking and clacking as the garment swayed in the cool sea breeze. Storm Girl had pulled a thick blanket of blue-black clouds over Heartwood Village. No rain fell yet, but it would come before the day ended.
Kelp’s face bespoke purpose. Her brows drew down over her short pointed nose, and her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth. She wore a plain tunic, dirty, splotched with water and soap bubbles, but her long black hair hung clean and glistening in a braid down her back. She stood on her knees behind her brother, vigorously scrubbing his hair. Around her lay wooden bowls, a fishbone comb, a brush made from the stiff inner bark of palm trees, and a large gourd filled with clean water.
“Pondwader,” Kelp said. “Lean back. I’ll hold you up. I need to rinse your hair.”
“All right,” he sighed, and leaned against her supporting arm.
Kelp used her other arm to position a wooden bowl beneath his head, then picked up the gourd of water and slowly poured it through his soapy hair. Lather streamed into the bowl, and splashed Kelp’s legs. Pondwader had closed his eyes. A serene expression came over his young face, as though he enjoyed the sensation of clean water running over his scalp. He had been so ill, it probably did feel good.
Moonsnail waited until Kelp had emptied the bowl onto the sand and begun combing out her brother’s long hair, then said, “Kelp, I left your clean tunic in Polished Shells’ shelter. Why don’t you go and get dressed? I wish to speak with Pondwader alone.”
“But, Grandmother …” Kelp objected, the comb still clutched in her hand. “My mother is over there. I—”
“Go on, now! You can stand your mother for half a hand of time. Tell Polished Shells I said she was to loan you her top-shell necklace. I gave it to her, she ought to be able to loan it now and then. Now, get going.”
Kelp lowered her eyes and laid the comb at Pondwader’s side. He patted her hand and smiled his most charming smile. “This won’t take long, Kelp,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Grandmother wishes to tell me about my marital, uh, … ‘duties.’” He turned and winked at Moonsnail, whose mouth puckered disdainfully.