People of the Mist(165)

At the first fire, Black Spike’s warriors seated themselves. They watched with wary black eyes, alert to any hint of treachery. No sooner were they seated than Hunting Hawk’s slaves carried cups of steaming tea to them, insuring that each warrior was well treated and made aware of his welcome.

Nine Killer followed the reduced entourage past the dividers to the rear chamber. Here, Hunting Hawk was seated on a raised stump, her closest relatives lining the sleeping benches to the side. Leaping flames cast yellow light throughout, occasional sparks rising toward the smoke hole high overhead.

“Greetings, Black Spike of the Bloodroot Clan,” Hunting Hawk called. “We welcome Three Myrtle to our village.” Like the Wergance, she, too, wore a feather mantle covered in bright-painted bunting feathers. Hers, however, hung down well below her waist. In her silver hair, she wore a polished copper skewer. She had greased her skin, and antimony sparkled like stars to distract from her wrinkles.

“Greetings, Weroansqua. I journeyed to Flat Pearl Village as soon as weather permitted. Your warm reception of myself, my son, and my warriors is most gracious. I am honored by your kind invitation.”

“Oh, not my invitation, Weroance. Rather, it came from The Panther and my War Chief, who claim to have made sense of Red Knot’s murder.” She lifted a hand, cutting the subject short. “But, enough of that for now. You have come far? There is time to talk of death and killing later. Let us eat and drink. Bring the Weroance and his men food!” She clapped her hands, and the young girls waiting along the walls sprang to comply. In token of his prestige and status, Black Spike would be served by Greenstone clanswomen.

Black Spike seated himself in the place of honor, High Fox, still cowed, dropping to his place beside him. Black Spike frowned, asking, “And where is Shell Comb? Surely, I would have expected to sec her here.”

“The Women’s House, Weroance. But, fear not. Once we lay our problem to rest, I’m sure you will be staying long enough to enjoy our hospitality. It won’t take her that long to finish her duties to First Woman.”

Black Spike nodded and seemed to relax.

The feast began. Freshly roasted deer back strap walnut milk, sweetened pumpkin and squash, baked turkey, duck, and quail were laid before Black Spike and High Fox. Black drink in conch shell bowls was handed to them.

Nine Killer caught Hunting Hawk’s eye, nodded, and carefully took his leave. He padded silently through the passageway to the front room, checked to see that all was in order with Black Spike’s warriors, and ducked out into the afternoon.

A chill had begun to blow down from the north. As he walked toward the House of the Dead, he could see the first traces of haze. The mist would strengthen again into a full fog. By nightfall, they’d be unable to see their hands before their faces. “Is he feasting?” Copper Thunder asked from where he still stood beside the doorway. “Enjoying Flat Pearl Village’s hospitality one last time?”

“One last time?” Nine Killer missed a step and turned. “I don’t understand your meaning, Great Tayac.” Copper Thunder made an offhand gesture. “Oh, I don’t mean much of anything. After all, it would have been just as simple to send a messenger, don’t you think?

A warrior could just as easily say, “All is forgiven, Weroance. The culprit is discovered, and all is well again. Forgive our silly mistake in believing your son murdered the girl.” Something like that, don’t you think? Exit bringing him here?” Copper Thunder shook his head. “I’d smell a trap and stay far away myself… but then, from what I’ve seen, Black Spike isn’t that smart, is he?”

Nine Killer knotted his fists to stem an outburst. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Copper Thunder stepped forward, dropping his voice below the hearing of his men. “Oh, I think you know well enough. And, remember: I was out there that morning. I saw him with my own eyes. That’s what you and the old man have finally determined through your sniffing around, isn’t it?”

Nine Killer tensed, then bid his tight muscles to relax. “You saw him out there? Doing what?”

“Trotting for the trees just before sunup.”

“And what else?”

“He was carrying something! Maybe a war club.”

“Can you identify the club?” Nine Killer lifted a mocking eyebrow, challenging.

“The same one he’s carrying now. It’s his, isn’t it? Takes it with him wherever he goes.”

“And what were you doing out there, Great Tayac? It was the last of the night. You should have been asleep by then.”