People of the Mist(58)
Panther ducked into the warm interior and stopped, ambushed by the smoky scent of human bodies, the aroma of cooking food, the smell of tobacco and corn hanging from the rafters. A flood of memories ebbed from his soul: childhood, in a house like this, the noises of cooking, playing string games, laughter, and stories told. He could imagine his uncle, slapping his knee as he related the wild tale of the shark he’d tried to kill from his canoe with only a paddle for a weapon.
His own small house on the island had none of these smells, engendered none of these memories. If it had any odor, it was the musty scent of mold in the thatch.
No, this odor was a thing of people, of the place where many of them lived, not just one lonely old hermit with a reputation for witchery.
Just how long has it been since you ‘we been in a long house? The question startled him. Had it been ten and two, or ten and three Comings of the Leaves?
Sun Conch asked. “Elder, are you all right?”
Panther blinked, realized that people were staring anxiously at him, and took a deep breath. With regret he shook off the memories and walked across the matting to the fire where Black Spike waited. High Fox sat to his right. Off to the side, three women—slaves, by the way they were dressed—huddled next to the sleeping benches, their eyes wary and frightened. One of the slaves, an older woman with gray hair and a horrible burn scar on the side of her face, squinted at him. Her eyes widened suddenly, as if she knew The Panther. But when he studied her, trying to place her, she turned away.
“Welcome, Elder,” Black Spike said, his good arm indicating the mats across from the fire. His left arm was swollen and discolored from the wound, obviously painful. “Please sit and enjoy our hospitality.”
“Thank you, Weroance. May Ohona guard and keep you.” Panther winced as his joints crackled through the process of lowering him. Sun Conch stood behind him, her war club braced upon her crossed arms.
“I have business with The Panther. You may be excused, Sun Conch.” Black Spike gestured with his hand. “I’m sure your family will want to hear of your recent adventures.” “She is with me now,” Panther said evenly. “Sun Conch follows my orders.”
Black Spike sat back. “What is this?”
Panther said, “You may tell him, Sun Conch.”
“I have given myself to The Panthtr, Weroance. I no longer have a clan or family.”
“It was the price of my service,” Panther said. He took the moment to study the shocked Weroance’s lean face. Black Spike had blanched, unease in those dark eyes. He was still a handsome man. Despite the years, and the gray streaking his pinned hair, muscle packed his broad shoulders. The lines of age enhanced the perfect nose, mobile lips, and fine features.
“I can read your thoughts, Black Spike,” Panther added softly. “There was no sorcery involved. Sun Conch did this thing for High Fox.” Panther shifted his gaze to High Fox. “So, we had better hope that you didn’t kill the girl, for more than just your life is at stake.”
High Fox dropped his gaze.
Black Spike shifted uncomfortably. “Well, if it was her wish, then Sun Conch is your responsibility. Now, what are you doing here, Elder?”
“I have come regarding Red “Knot’s death.”
“My son didn’t do it.” Black Spike clenched his good fist. Panther clasped his hands together and propped his chin on his knuckles. “If he didn’t commit this act, then we must determine who did.”
“We don’t need your help,” Black Spike said. “We didn’t need your help this afternoon, either. If anything, your arrival here today was less than happy. Tonight we would be celebrating our victory over our enemies. We had everything under control until you—”
“Ah, your ‘enemies.” Yes, I see. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t some of those warriors your friends? Didn’t you and Nine Killer share raids, stand shoulder to shoulder in defense of your territory? Are you sure none of your relatives are within the Flat Pearl ranks camped beside the inlet?” Panther nodded seriously. “Indeed, everything is under control. So much so that you were about to murder your own kin.”
“Things change!” Black Spike glared.
“Does that mean you must rush headlong through life like a pilot whale onto a beach?” Panther made an appeasing gesture. “Weroance, I am here to find out what happened. I will do that. But you must make a choice. Will you help me, or seek to hinder me? If you wish to hinder me, I might be tempted to wonder why. And if I wonder long enough, I might be tempted to consider you an enemy. Look at me, Black Spike. Do you wish to antagonize The Panther?”