People of the Mist(138)
A big fire crackled in the hearth. The front room was empty, save for its single occupant. The sleeping benches were made, every robe laid out neatly. The storage baskets were all hung, and supplies stacked. Panther smiled grimly to himself as he strode forward, well aware of Sun Conch following so protectively close that her toes brushed Panther’s heels.
Copper Thunder had placed a single section of log behind the fire and covered it with finely tanned deer hides. This he sat on like a Weroance, his arms braced on his knees. With a stony expression, he watched Panther cross the mat-covered floor. The firelight gleamed and danced on the polished copper necklace, and cast a ruddy light on the spider gorget. Perhaps to make his appearance more formidable, the Great Tayac had greased his thick roach of hair so that it stood up straight, contrasting with his shaved scalp. His heavy war club sat propped within easy reach of his strong right hand.
“Well, you’ve come at last, Raven.” Copper Thunder gestured to the mats spread on the ground across the fire from him. “Be seated. You and I must talk.”
Panther glanced around nonchalantly, removed his blanket from his shoulders, and snapped the melting snow from it. Sun Conch stood to the side, her war club clutched in both fists. Panther cocked his head, taking his time. “Thank you,
Grass Mat, but I believe that I shall stand. It’s this weather… hard on the joints. Funny, isn’t it? You’d think that joints would move more easily with age rather than stiffening. Most things tend to loosen with time and use.”
“I want you to sit!”
“But I will stand. Or, is that all that you wanted? Just for me to sit? If that’s it, I shall return to Rosebud’s and sit there. Not only will I not have to rise again, but she cooked a wondrous breakfast this morning. Nine Killer made a good catch yesterday. Fresh fish roasted to perfection, the succulent white meat steaming as I plucked it from the bone. If I’m going to sit, I want something like that to pick at.”
Copper Thunder’s enraged eyes seemed to burn. “I warn you that I’ve had enough, Raven. All you are doing is making trouble. Up to your old tricks. These people don’t know you as I do. They don’t understand that where you go, you spread your poison until it eats away at all that is good and peaceful.”
“Pardon me if I’m wrong, Grass Mat, but isn’t that a spider that you’re wearing around your neck? Last time I watched a spider, it killed its prey with a venomous bite.” Panther’s faulty memory flashed, and he said, “I’ve seen that spider motif before: it was being worn by a Natchez warrior, as I remember. Night Spider society, isn’t it? Are you one of them, Grass Mat?”
“Raven, you try my patience. I ordered you here to—”
“Ah! You just copied that design!” Panther took a step to the side, making Copper Thunder turn his head to keep him in sight. “I didn’t think you’d voluntarily undergo the initiation. It takes years of brutal training. To be a full initiate and wear the Night Spider gorget, you must kill eight men in one-to-one combat—one for each of the spider’s legs—and then drink a tea made of datura to be granted a vision. Those few who survive are bled, scarified, and tattooed. Once they take a vow on a battle walk, none will retreat until they are killed or they kill their opponents. I think that’s why there are so few Night Spiders, and why they are so honored and revered up and down the rivers.”
“Enough!” Copper Thunder bellowed, rising to his feet. The coals of anger had burned free now, his face contorting, jaw muscles jumping. The last time you entered my life, I swore I’d kill you. By the Longnosed God, I wanted to.” He raised a knotted fist, his face twisting the forked eye tattoos. “Then I come here and find you, a broken old man, but still spinning your little intrigues. Dung and fire, you old bloodsucker, you disgust me.”
Panther locked his hands behind his back, casting a reassuring glance at Sun Conch, who seemed strung tight enough to vibrate. The nostrils of her short beak of a nose quivered. “Disgust you, do I? Why, Grass Mat, at least I don’t come here under false pretenses.”
“I cdme to claim a wife. Now I find you defending the man who killed her. Curious coincidence, isn’t it?”
“As curious as the fact that the daughter is dead, and now you seek the mother as wife?” Panther raised a taunting eyebrow. “That was her idea. Shell Comb’s. She came to me! These people want this alliance. They need it! Without it, they are dead. It’s only a matter of time. Better to ally with a winner than to be crushed by a conqueror. You, of all people, should know that.” His eyes narrowed. “Or have you forgotten how we met that day?”