Sparrow slitted one eye and studied Tall Blue. “She’s trying to shove me into madness, Blue. First she orders me to seek a vision, then she sends you to interrupt my efforts. What’s next? Water hemlock in my food?”
“I am sorry, Elder,” Tall Blue said as he chewed his corn cake. “I knew you would not be happy to see me. I have so often heard you speak of the difficulties of the quest: the hunger, the thirst and loneliness. Are you lonely?”
Sparrow lifted a shoulder noncommittally. He was, of course. Desperately.
Tall Blue finished his cake, let out a satisfied sigh, and pulled the laces closed on his pack. “I’m leaving now, Elder. Are you certain you will not come with me?”
Sparrow stuffed his fists into the pockets of his beautifully painted elkhide coat. Its red spirals and dark green trees gleamed in the branch-filtered sunlight. “If I give in to the temptation, my Helper will be angry. He may never appear to me again.”
Tall Blue slipped the pack straps over his shoulders and shrugged it into position. “Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t come to speak with you yet. He’s already angry with you.”
“Really? What would make you think so?”
“Well, I—I don’t know, of course,” Tall Blue stammered, “but Matron Dust Moon said—”
“Blessed Spirits! If you wish to know something about me, ask me!”
Tall Blue wiped the crumbs from his hands, and watched them drop onto the forest floor. “I should have, Elder. You are right.”
Sparrow shifted to look at Blue. “What did she say?”
Tall Blue gazed at him askance. “Well, Elder, you … you do realize that you’ve wakened the village many times over the past moon, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“Your cries have frightened people, Elder. You always sound as if you are in great torment. Matron Dust Moon said your wicked Spirit Helper was probably torturing you again.”
Sparrow squeezed his eyes closed. He often jerked awake at night, drenched in sweat, moaning, and in excruciating pain. He wakened feeling physically exhausted, as if warriors had been beating him with clubs all night. He knew what it meant. It was his Helper’s way of issuing a call. One that Sparrow could not refuse.
Sparrow opened his eyes and squinted at the bare branches over his head. “Not the spawn of witches,” he said. “The spawn of bird droppings, of snake semen, of—”
“Elder.” Tall Blue studied the tight line of Sparrow’s mouth. “Please return with me. If you wish to begin your quest again after the council meeting, you are free to do so.”
In the sudden silence, the chirping of the birds seemed louder, the wind through the bare branches more shrill. The forest smelled rich and pungent this morning.
“Very well.” Tall Blue sighed. “Perhaps you might give me a possible time when your quest will end?”
“I am too terrified to guess.”
“You? Terrified? You are a great holy man. What could frighten you?”
“Well—” Sparrow made an airy gesture. “To begin with, Blue, I’m afraid that I’ll finish my vision quest without seeing a Spirit Helper, and it will prove Matron Dust Moon’s theory that I’m just demented, not a Dreamer. I’m also worried that we might have to go to war soon. And, if you really want to know, I’m very frightened by this pain in my chest.” Sparrow touched the spot between his breasts.
Tall Blue said, “Your heart?”
“I don’t know.”
Blue sat down on the log again, and examined Sparrow more closely. “Does it hurt all the time?”
“No.”
“Does it hurt now?”
Sparrow shook his head.
Tall Blue murmured, “Have you been witched? Should we call a shaman?”
Sparrow smiled, and his chapped lips broke open. Blood trickled warmly down his chin. “No,” he said as he wiped it away. “I actually think it’s a good thing, that the pain comes from my Spirit Helper.”
Tall Blue seemed to relax a little. “I’ve heard that elders often suffer curious pains. My great-grandfather used to wince every time he—”
“I doubt that it’s the same thing, Blue. Did his pain have golden eyes?”
Tall Blue closed his mouth. He didn’t answer for a time. “I don’t think so.”
“My pain has eyes. They sparkle at me in my dreams.”
“How long have you been seeing these eyes?”
“About seven moons.”
A swallow went down Blue’s throat. He seemed to be nerving himself to ask his next question. “Elder, perhaps we should send a runner for Rumbler. I’m certain the False Face Child could tell you if this ‘thing’ is good or bad.”