“The ghosts?”
Pondwader swallowed hard. He seemed to be struggling with himself, trying to decide what to say, and what not to. “I can’t explain it, Seedpod. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone—except Musselwhite—and I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet, but I must go with her on this journey!”
Seedpod ran his thumb down the side of his cup. “Is this what the ghosts told you at the Sacred Pond? I recall crazy old Dogtooth mentioning something about that.”
Pondwader nodded.
“Well,” Seedpod said. “I take such things very seriously, but I want you to consider your wife’s safety first. Ghosts don’t know everything. At least I don’t think they do. It might be better for everyone concerned if you stayed here with us to help us pack and move down to join Heartwood Village. We could use you, Pondwader.” Seedpod’s eyes drifted to the line of dead bodies on the outskirts of the village. The colored blankets covering them billowed in the wind, and occasionally Seedpod caught sight of a loved friend’s face frozen in terror. Mourning cries still filtered from the shelters. A rawhide band seemed to tighten around his heart, making it feel as if it were about to burst. “We need every able-bodied person we can get.”
Pondwader peered into the wavering flames, and the orange gleam sheathed his face. His pink flesh mixed oddly with the fire’s glow, creating a color as startlingly beautiful as it was eerie. He felt as if he might have dived to the bottom of a reef and found a face sculpted into the coral there.
When he didn’t answer, Seedpod said, “And what will you do if your wife is killed? You will be truly alone and in the midst of hostile strangers. Be honest with yourself, Pondwader. The dumbest warrior in the world could sneak up behind you and cut your throat, and you know it. I do not wish that to happen, and neither does your wife.”
The boy looked up with clear eyes. As though he hadn’t heard, he said, “Seedpod, before we leave there is something I must ask you. Dogtooth told me to.”
“Dogtooth told you to? Hallowed Spirits, that’s frightening. What could it be?”
Pondwader’s white brows pulled together. “It’s about what Cottonmouth did to Musselwhite when she was ten-and-one summers old. Dogtooth said knowing about it would be very important to me on this journey.”
Seedpod felt that a huge hand had gripped his souls and shaken them. “Dogtooth … told you to ask me?”
Pondwader nodded. “Yes.”
Seedpod’s hands had grown unsteady. He clasped them together to hide his discomfort. “What difference would it make if you knew?”
“I asked Dogtooth that same question.” Pondwader answered. “These were his words. He said, ‘It just may save your life, and hers. Very soon, you and Musselwhite will be going on a difficult journey. You must know who she is—what made her who she is—before you leave.’” Pondwader peered at Seedpod from beneath his colorless lashes. “I don’t know why he said that. But he thought it very important that I ask you about it. He told me it would be difficult for me. But please tell me, Seedpod. I vow never to tell anyone else.”
It had happened so long ago … but not long enough that Seedpod had forgotten the rage, the hatred he’d felt. The past three tens of summers had not even dimmed the strength of those emotions … . And now his daughter’s life might depend upon his talking about those events?
Seedpod set his gourd cup down. Pondwader watched him, his boyish face taut, pink eyes wide with hope … and a little afraid. Mosquitoes flitted about his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Seedpod took a breath, and held it. Dogtooth was crazy, but he had never known the great Soul Dancer to lie. If he said Musselwhite’s life depended upon it—then well it might. Still, it took a moment for Seedpod to convince himself to speak.
“Cottonmouth … had a—a strange Power over Musselwhite,” he began softly. “I think it grew worse after they married.”
“She was married to Cottonmouth? No one ever told me that;” Pondwader whispered.
“I doubt many people know. They underwent the ceremony alone. There were no witnesses. No feast. No celebration of their joining.”
“But why not?”
Seedpod pushed his gourd cup around with his index finger. “Because that’s the way Cottonmouth wanted it. He feared that if people knew she was his wife, they would find a way to use her against him. But if his relatives thought he and Musselwhite were merely sharing the same shelter, they would think it was a casual mating and no one would suspect the depth of his love for her.”