People of the Mist(55)
“Don’t be silly.”
The Panther studied him, seeming to see right through Nine Killer’s skin and into his soul. Then the old man said, “Let’s you and I be honest with each other. Of all the challenges men accept, honesty is the hardest to meet. So, tell me, War Chief, just this once, for this little moment, could you be honest?”
Nine Killer cocked his head. “Why should I be?”
“Why should you not? Or, is it because you know who killed Red Knot—and it isn’t High Fox? Hmm.”
“Absolutely not! That’s… that’s …” Nine Killer’s protests died as he looked into the old man’s unfailing gaze. In that instant, a grudging respect was born. “Very well. You may indeed be a witch, for you see a man’s soul, don’t you?”
The Panther shrugged. “Oh, I know you, Nine Killer. You gave yourself away when you didn’t leave the moment your canoes were returned. Were you the killer, you would have left faster than a frightened duck—knowing full well you couldn’t capture High Fox. The same if you were protecting the killer.”
Nine Killer considered, hearing the sense of the words. “Maybe I’m just a smarter kind of killer. Maybe that’s what I wanted you to think.”
“Why?” The Panther steepled his hands. “What does it matter what I think?”
“It doesn’t, I…” Nine Killer stopped. “You’re very clever, witch.”
“So, can we be honest, you and me? Your answer will depend on whether you really want to know what happened to Red Knot.” “I could tell you I was being honest, and lie anyway.”
“You could. But, will you?”
Nine Killer chuckled and used his stick to tap the dirt. “Very well, witch, for this one moment, I will be honest with you.”
“Then, if we are being honest, it bothers me when I’m called a witch. I’ve known a few, and I’m nothing like them. To be a night traveler, one must pay a terrible price. In the first place, I’m not prepared to give up that much of myself. In the second, I don’t want the things most witches want. The possession of men’s souls is a depressing and truly horrifying proposition.” “It is?”
“Tell me, War Chief, why would anyone with sense want to bottle a man’s soul up in ajar someplace? What if it got loose, got mixed up with your own? I can’t speak for you, but I’m perplexed enough with my own soul without having it attacked and confused by someone else’s.”
Despite himself, Nine Killer cracked a smile. “I’d never thought of it that way.”
“No, I suppose you didn’t. Most people don’t.” He paused. “Do you really think High Fox killed this girl?”
Nine Killer shrugged. “He was up on the ridge. She was running off to meet him. Who should I think killed her?”
Panther’s attention had remained on the fire, but he said, “I don’t hear conviction in your voice, War Chief.”
“Just how much do you know about what happened that morning?”
“I’ll tell you everything High Fox told me.” The Panther went on to relate High Fox’s story, ending with, “And, truthfully, I’m not sure he-didn’t kill her.”
At that, Sun Conch shot a terrified glance at The Panther. As if the old man had eyes in the back of his head, he said, “I came here for Sun Conch, to find out the truth of what happened. I will follow that quest wherever it leads. For the moment, I will take High Fox’s word that he didn’t kill the girl. I even half believe him.”
“He ran,” Nine Killer pointed out.
“He’s little more than a boy, Blackened or not. He panicked and lost all of his sense. He was already in enough trouble just asking the girl to run away with him. Like quicksand, he’d sunk up to his waist. When he found the girl’s body, I’think he was in over his head. Too much mud in his eyes to see clearly.”
Nine Killer shifted uncomfortably. “Something hasn’t been right about this from the beginning.” He went on to relate the events of the morning Red Knot had disappeared: the decision to search; Copper Thunder’s apparent nonchalance; Quick Fawn’s discovery of Winged Blackbird; and the subsequent ambush of Corn Hunter’s warriors.
“Flat Willow, a young hunter, found the body and reported it. We went up, looked around, found where the girl had been killed. She had a necklace in her hand. One made of drilled shark teeth, pearls, and …”
Sun Conch sucked in a deep breath.
“Yes, girl?” Nine Killer asked.
“Nothing, I—just a chill as the night settles.” She pulled the front of her cape tighter, but her face had gone slack, her eyes huge.