“I remember it quite clearly, Grass Mat. That was the day you and your mother became my slaves, wasn’t it?”
Copper Thunder stepped around the fire, thrusting his face within a finger’s width of Panther’s. The firelight danced eerily on his forked eye tattoos and the black stripe around his mouth. “I’ve lived and relived that day, Raven. When, I close my eyes to sleep, it’s to have that nightmare bleed itself into my dreams. And finally, here you are, delivered to my hands, as if by Okeus himself.”
“I don’t quite understand what you’re doing with the young men here.” Panther, unconcerned, waved Sun Conch back with one hand while he pulled at his chin with the other. “Are you trying to sell them on the idea that you’re a Night Spider so that they’ll follow you? But how? If that was your plan, why murder Red Knot? She was your key to the youngsters here.”
“Murder Red Knot?” The question caught him off guard. “I came to marry the girl. Why would I kill her?”
“That’s what I just asked.” Panther gave him a sober look. “Grass Mat, you’ve always been the logical one. Try this: You kill Red Knot, and then make it look as though High Fox did it. Confusion spreads, old alliances are suddenly suspect. The Independent villages fragment, tear themselves apart, and you sweep in before the Ma manatowick’s warriors snap them up. You unify them under your protection without having to risk your fake Night Spider identity.”
“You old fool!” Copper Thunder shouted. “The marriage was enough! Why do by war what I could by marriage? To think I killed her, that’s … well, it’s insane! You’re even crazier than I thought you were.”
“Then, who killed her? Surely you don’t believe that sleight about Winged Blackbird’s warriors doing the deed, do you? It wasn’t their style to leave her like that. I know those people. They’d have at least wanted to take the head back to Corn Hunter. He in turn would send it-with due ceremony and substantial groveling—to Water Snake.”
“High Fox killed her!” Copper Thunder backed away to stomp off around the fire. “Who else?”
“Oh, I can think of lots of people. Flat Willow, for one. He could have done it for you. He wanted Red Knot, and lo and behold, she’s promised to you. A bruised lover might have been just the person you needed for the deed. Desperation makes people do odd things that don’t make sense on the surface. It twists the logic.”
“Flat Willow?” Copper Thunder stopped short, a puzzled look on his face. “But he …”
“He told me he’d have done anything to win her love. He even thought of killing High Fox—or at least exposing the fact that she was letting him warm his favorite arrow inside her. But Flat Willow was afraid she’d hate him for it. You were the unexpected stone cast into his pond.”
Copper Thunder frowned, his confusion palpable. He looked at Panther, as if casting about for explanations, and then a slow smile spread across his lips. “Some things never change, do they, you old weasel? Always casting your dung into other people’s drinking water. Then, you see just how much you can stir it up before people realize they are drinking your shit.” He shook his head. “Why, you even had the gall to accuse the Weroansqua.”
“If it wasn’t you, why not her? She has as much motive as anyone else. She might have finally figured out what a vile little serpent you are at heart, Grass Mat. With a dead Red Knot, she avoids losing her territory to your expanding chieftainship. I know this is beyond your ability to believe, but there are people who will do anything within their means to keep clear of your filthy intrigues.”
Copper Thunder said nothing, his hands alternately grasping and flexing. His mouth had thinned to a bloodless line. “So, you see,” Panther summed up, “the shit in the water isn’t mine. But by stirring it, the innocent may discover who fouled the water in the first place.”
Copper Thunder glared at Panther from across the fire.
‘“I called you here to tell you that I’ve had enough of your games. Two of my warriors will take you back to your island when this storm breaks.”
“The Weroansqua agrees to this? She has ordered me to leave? Oh, I doubt it, Grass Mat. She has more self respect than that. Were she to throw me out, it would cause her a great deal of grief in the end. She knows that, and she’s smart enough to avoid those pitfalls.”
“Indeed, old man? And why is that?”
“Because too many people know that The Panther is here. The story has already circulated through the Independent villages, and no doubt beyond to the Mamanatowick, and to Stone Frog and his Conoy Confederacy. If she throws me out before I name a murderer, it will appear to the other interested parties that I uncovered something so rotten that she couldn’t let it out. Now, think, Grass Mat—though I know that’s not your strength. What reason do you think will circulate from mouth to ear? Hmm?”