People of the Mist(40)
Eyes locked with The Panther’s, High Fox whispered, “I loved her. You must believe me.”
Sun Conch clamped her jaw and looked away, and
Panther said, “I make you only one promise, High Fox. I will see that you get what you deserve. Fair enough?”
“Yes, Elder. Fair enough.”
“Then come.”
High Fox said, “We’re a short distance from the cove where the canvasback ducks winter.” He turned and pointed to an inlet on the mainland.
“Yes,” Sun Conch agreed. “I know the place. No one lives there because the swamps surround it. It’s a good place to camp, Elder.”
“Good,” Panther said. “Let’s go there. We will hear High Fox’s story, and decide our course of action.”
Panther sighed, knowing he had to get back in the canoe and endure the ride once more, but he’d be crab bit before he spent the night on this poor excuse of an island.
Shell Comb walked down to the water’s edge below Flat Pearl Village, a small pot in one hand. Night had fallen, cold and bracing. Overhead, patches of stars intermixed with black splotches where clouds blocked the night sky. Behind her in the village, the dogs barked at some perceived injustice, and she heard a shrill voice as one of the women scolded a child. The only other sound was the perpetual lapping of water against the shoreline.
She bent down and filled her pot with water. A fish splashed in the darkness.
She turned, making her way along the familiar path that led to the sweat lodge, a thatched structure built into the bank.
A low fire burned before the door, three stones already hot in the fire’s center. She pulled the hanging aside and ducked through the low doorway.
No more than two paces by three across, the low roofed hut was built by tightly thatching a sapling framework. A large stone, like a dull red eye in the darkness, lay in the pit excavated centrally in the earthen floor. To her surprise, the air billowed steam. She could just make out the figure in the rear of the sweat house, a big man.
“Come in,” he said in his accented voice. “The heat is refreshing.”
Shell Comb seated herself and placed her pot to one side. He bent forward, dribbling water on the dull red rock. Steam cackled and hissed, rising in a cloud to fill the small room.
She closed her eyes, allowing the penetrating heat to seep into her pores. She shouldn’t have come here, but he fascinated her, something in his personality drawing her to him.
“I’ve needed this,” Copper Thunder confided. “It cleanses more than the body, you know.”
“Yes.” She leaned her head back, letting the moisture bead on her skin. “It is said that steam leaches evil out of the soul.” At least, she fervently hoped so.
He laughed softly. “Oh, I doubt that. There are so many cracks and crevices in the soul that evil can hide where it will. Steam it if you wish, but I’ve known a great many wicked men who sweat like great rivers, their souls just as black when they stop as when they start.”
“And does that include you?”
“Most likely, but then, I’ve never believed that pot of stew the priests dish out.”
“I don’t know what to think of you.” She could feel his measuring gaze through the darkness. “Think what you will. Some of it, if not all, might even be true.”
She weighed his words, then chose to ignore them. “Why are you still here?”
“To see what happens next.”
“Are we just an entertainment?”
“I wouldn’t use those words.”
“Then, what words would you use?”
“I am an observer.” He shifted, placing limp arms on his knees.
She imagined his muscles, slack now, his skin sleek with water. What would it be like to run her fingers down that smooth flesh? Something is crooked in my soul. All of my life I’ve been fascinated by strong men. What triggers that excitement?
Copper Thunder said, “I’m surprised at you. You exhibit great control. I had expected you to weep for Red Knot, to rend your soul with grief, and pull out whole hanks of your hair.”
“Great Tayac, I am my mother’s daughter. Grief is for those who have the luxury of expressing it. My people look to me for leadership. For the moment, they need to see strength.”
“Do you always contain your desires so? I had heard otherwise.” She smoothed the water from her face and leaned her head back. “And what, may I ask, did you hear?” “That you are a hot-blooded woman. One accustomed to feeding her desires.”
“She gave him a challenging stare, that thrill beginning deep in the pit of her stomach. “Life is short, my friend. Okeus saw to that just after the Creation. As my daughter discovered, only the foolish ever bet on another sunrise. Let’s just say that I’ve enjoyed all I could, taken the risks . and paid the prices.”