People of the Mist(54)

“But not our clans,” Black Spike added. “And if you don’t care about that, what is your purpose here?”

Panther indicated Sun Conch. “This girl, Sun Conch, believes that High Fox didn’t kill Red Knot. Maybe I’m here because of her.” Then he paused and smiled. “Or, maybe I’m here because I’m curious. Who did kill Red Knot?”

“And if it was High Fox?” Nine Killer demanded. “What then, witch?”

Panther narrowed his eyes to slits and turned to the shivering High Fox. The youth had come forward to stand just behind Sun Conch’s shoulder, his handsome face strained. “Oh, if I find that he killed Red Knot-and lied to me about it—he’ll wish he’d let you catch him in the very beginning, War Chief.”





Eleven




Nine Killer had camped his warriors in the little grove of trees that once had been his death trap. Gray scudding clouds could be seen through the stark branches overhead. Disgruntled, he frowned at the fire. The aroma of boiling corn, acorn, and fish stew rose from the cooking pots his warriors now watched over. In all of his life, he’d never undergone such rapid reversals of fate. That morning, he should have pulled off his most daring and audacious raid ever, only to be tricked, trapped, and confounded at every turn. Then, just as his enemy had massed to deal him a complete defeat, the witch, Panther, arrived to save him from disaster.

And now, here I sit, happily alive, but no closer to the solution of my dilemma, or escape from this impossible quagmire.

Two hands of time before, their canoes had been returned to them by sullen Three Myrtle warriors. So, not only had they survived at Panther’s whim, but they could now extricate themselves from this stewing disaster.

A truly wise man would have packed up and run while the running was good.

Nine Killer scratched his ear and grimaced. He’d always believed himself to be a reasonably bright fellow. But no matter what the urgings of his heart, stubborn will kept him here, waiting to see just what would come of The Panther’s arrival at Three Myrtle Village.

He plucked up a twig and used it to tap the damp soil. He’d been unhappy about every twist and turn in this Red Knot affair. As things progressed, the situation became ever more clouded. “War Chief?” Flying Weir called, interrupting Nine Killer’s thoughts. His lieutenant pointed out at the dusk.

Through the trees, Nine Killer could see The Panther walking toward them across the clearing that lay between the trees and the Three Myrtle Village. Young Sun Conch followed behind him, wary. She’d pulled her feathered cape back and hooked it over the war club tied to her belt. Her right hand rested on the handle. The weapon looked too big for such a small girl. Through the thin fabric of her red dress, Nine Killer could see her barely budded breasts. Did the girl seriously consider herself to be a warrior? In any other circumstances, Nine Killer would have laughed at the idea.

Nine Killer dropped his stick, stood, wiped his hands, and said, “Let them come, but Flying Weir, keep an eye on them. I want to know immediately if you see anything suspicious.”

“Yes, War Chief.” Flying Weir didn’t seem reassured.

The Panther entered the trees and walked directly to Nine Killer’s fire, nodding an absent greeting. Without ceremony, he seated himself before the fire and extended his bony hands to the warmth. The old man’s skin looked like desiccated leather, dark, callused, and wrinkled.

Sun Conch stood behind him, the nostrils of her beak nose flaring. The Panther might act unconcerned, but Sun Conch remained on her feet and concentrated on the Flat Pearl warriors who glared at her from all sides. A brave girl, especially for one so skinny.

“It’s going to be a cold night,” The Panther said by way of greeting. “But actually a bit warm for the season. Could be worse, you know. I’ve seen snow hip deep to an elk this close to solstice.”

“I’ve heard of such winters,” Nine Killer replied. He crouched down and picked up his stick again, rolling it in his fingers, waiting.

The Panther rubbed his hands together, mused at the flames, and asked, “Have you ever watched the mist blow in from the ocean?”

Nine Killer lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “I have.”

“This Red Knot problem, I think it’s like a thick mist blew in. No one can see clearly. The girl is dead, and now people are blindly trying to see her death as they wish.”

“You think so, eh?”

The Panther smiled. “Why else would two villages who have been friends for years be tearing at each other’s throats?”

Nine Killer said nothing, his hackles rising.

“Ah,” The Panther said knowingly. “From your expression I am supposed to think you wanted to die this morning?”