People of the Mist(48)

She gave him a curt nod, and pottered off toward the door, her sassafras cane making a ticking sound as it tapped the packed dirt floor.

After she’d stepped outside, Nine Killer stared after her, a frown lining his forehead. He could imagine her out in the night, her figure hunched in the misty darkness, crossing the village in her shambling walk—like a spider creeping along a deadly web.

Moments later, Rosebud’s head peered in through the doorway.

“Is it all right?”

“No, sister. It is not. I fear Okeus is laughing at us this night.”





Ten




The cold wind blowing down from the northwest sent white-capped waves scudding into the narrows of Three Myrtle Inlet. The water had a sullen green appearance, as if resentful of anything warm and alive. Undercut roots resisted its pounding, struggling to protect the fragile soil.

Low gray clouds billowed in the southeast. If anything, they made the winter-bare branches appear more bleak and questing.

Threads of mist blew over the palisade around Three Myrtle Village, moistening the weathered posts until they gleamed. The thatched long houses too, were mist darkened and dreary. Curls of blue smoke eddied along the curves of roofs before being torn away by the wind.

This was no day for travel. A lone canoe bobbed and ducked, riding the choppy waves toward the village canoe landing. The solitary paddler had a cloth blanket wrapped over his feathered cloak, and his head was covered with a beaver skin cap. From time to time, he’d rest his paddle across the gunwales and use a conch shell cup to bail out the water that shipped over the gunwales. Then he would return to the struggle, driving his boat toward the landing’s lines of beached canoes.

As the bow of his dugout slid onto the sand, a cry went up from the village. By the time the traveler sloshed ashore and pulled his slim canoe up the beach, several men had trotted out from Three Myrtle Village, bows strung and arrows drawn.

The traveler raised his hands, and cried, “I come with important news for Black Spike!”

Black Spike stepped out from the overlapping gate in the palisade, a blanket tucked to his chest. “I am Black Spike, Weroance of Three Myrtle. Who … Stone Cob? Is that you?”

“It is me, Weroance. I come with news!”

Black Spike stopped short, head cocked. “What news would the lieutenant of Nine Killer bring me?”

Stone Cob held his empty hands out to Black Spike. “Nine Killer’s lieutenant brings you nothing; but Stone Cob, son of Blue Fish, of the Star Crab Clan, comes to warn you that Nine Killer is assembling warriors at this very moment to raid Three Myrtle Village.”

Muttered curses broke out from the men surrounding Black Spike. The Weroance raised a hand to still them. “Very well, we are warned, Stone Cob. What of you? Why are you here?”

“My mother, my sisters, and brother live in Three Myrtle Village. No matter what I’ve sworn to Hunting Hawk, or to Nine Killer, I cannot make war against my kin.”

“And what does Nine Killer plan?”

“He means to attack you by surprise. He seeks to accomplish by stealth and audacity what force of arms might fail to do. He hopes to strike in the hour before dawn, capture High Fox, and escape.”

“And when we resist?”

“He hopes to be gone before you can organize a resistance. He would do this without killing anyone if he could.” Stone Cob glanced uneasily at the trees that hugged the inlet’s northern bank. They lay little more than a bow shot from the village’s palisade. “He has told his warriors to land there in the middle of the night. As long as the wind is right, it will carry the scent away from the village dogs.”

“I see.” Black Spike scowled at the dripping trees. “Well, we can prepare for Nine Killer’s attack.” He glanced back. Then, am I to believe you will join us? Fight against Flat Pearl Village’s warriors?”

Stone Cob shook his head. “No, great Weroance. If it means my life, I’ll never raise a hand against Nine Killer. He saved my hide more than once. Just as I cannot be party to the murder of my family and clan, I cannot carry weapons against my War Chief.” “Then what will you do?” Black Spike asked.

Stone Cob raised his hands in futility. “I don’t know, Weroance. Just be warned that Nine Killer’s attack is imminent. With that, I will take my leave. Perhaps when this is all over I will—”

“Oh, no you won’t, Stone Cob.” Black Spike made a gesture with his hand. Immediately, two warriors leapt forward, war clubs ready.

“What does this mean?” Stone Cob demanded angrily.

“It means that you might be here to mislead me. What kind of fool are you? Do you seriously think I’d just allow you to leave? To do what? Go back and report to Nine Killer that we are ready and waiting for him?”