Black Spike met Panther’s gaze for the briefest moment, then looked away. “Only a fool would cross a night traveler.”
“Especially a fool with a wounded arm,” Panther agreed. “You never know what might creep into the wound. In fact, from the way it’s already swollen, I would suggest that you take a bone awl and drain it. After that, I’d use a tobacco-leaf poultice to suck out the poison.” Black Spike seemed to deflate. “I’m sorry, Elder. Perhaps it’s the wound that’s affecting my judgment. I meant no offense.”
Panther measured the fear in the man’s eyes and gave him a benevolent smile. “There, we understand each other. Now, tell me truthfully, what do you know about this affair?” Black Spike rubbed his face, glanced uneasily at High Fox, and shrugged. “I know that my son didn’t kill Red Knot. He’s not a killer, Elder.”
“I see, and why is that?”
“Okeus alone knows why, but the boy has trouble killing a deer!” Black Spike cried. “He’s … well, a bumbling incompetent! There’s nothing of his mother or me in him! It’s as if…” Black Spike fidgeted with his good hand. “As if he was born of…”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. I was just upset. No, I’m always upset with him. High Fox has never done anything right! He couldn’t even find the right woman to fall in love with.”
High Fox hung his head, looking as crestfallen as a half-drowned puppy, and Panther heard Sun Conch take a step toward the boy.
“Sun Conch.” Panther lifted his hand. “Be still.”
She hesitated, shifted anxiously, and finally said, “Yes, Elder.”
“My fault,” Black Spike whispered. “It’s all my fault.”
“And where is the boy’s mother?” Panther asked, curious at the lack of women.
“His mother is … dead,” Black Spike said, his eyes focused on the fire.
“And you didn’t send the boy back to his clan? To his mother’s people?”
“No.” Black Spike’gave him a nervous glance. “High Fox’s mother was of the Sun Shell Clan. Her family was from Duck Creek Village. I am of the Bloodroot Clan. I asked the Sun Shell Clan for the privilege of raising my son. As Weroance, I was perfectly suited to give him everything he needed.”
“I see.” Panther pulled at his chin. “And when did his mother die?”
“A long time ago. Just after his birth.”
“And you never remarried?” “No. I had my son. My heart… well, it never had a place for another woman.”
“Grief is a powerful emotion.” Panther gave High Fox a sidelong glance. He had his father’s handsome features. Those broad shoulders, the thick muscles in the arms.
Those sensitive brown eyes might well be able to melt any woman’s heart.
“As Weroance, I find it unusual that you didn’t already have a second wife.”
“I… I wasn’t Weroance then. My brother, Monster Bone, was. Elder, High Fox was born while my wife and I were traveling, trading with the Susquehannocks up north. Something about the birth, well, I don’t know. She bled … and bled. She never recovered.” He glanced away uncomfortably.
“It must have been a difficult journey,” Panther observed gently. “Yes.” Black Spike’s gaze was vacant. “Okeus was against me. Only a day before my return, my brother, Monster Bone, was killed. His house caught fire in the middle of the night. Probably a spark in the thatch. He died in his bed. I came home to … emptiness. But for my son.”
Panther glanced up at the thatch roof, soot-blackened and vulnerable. With any warning, the occupants could escape, since the house normally burned from the top down. On occasion, however, if the wind were right and the people sleeping deeply, families had been known to burn to death, many never even waking.
“So, you inherited from your older brother? That’s how you became Weroance?”
“Yes, Elder.” Black Spike steepled his fingers, smiling wistfully. “I have done my best for my people—even if it meant never remarrying.”
“I want you to do even more for your people.” Black Spike looked up in surprise. “I want you to provide a feast for the Flat Pearl warriors.”
“A feast? For those—”
“You will do it.”
“How dare you come in here and—”
“Think well, Weroance.” Panther smiled. “Or would you have me march out into the village and tell your people of the vision I’ve had? Empty houses, fallow fields returning to forest, the palisade in ruins. Weeds growing in the plaza. And where children play today, only the wailing ghosts walk, unburied and forgotten by their few enslaved descendants. Where once the proud Greenstone, Bloodroot, and Sun Shell clans passed, only the Mamanatowick’s padding warriors stalk.”