People of the Mist(61)

“Who wishes to see Sun Conch?” The Panther said as he turned away from Nine Killer. He gave the twins a narrow-eyed appraisal.

Whitesides stiffened. “Her uncle, Sawtooth. He wishes to speak with her about this thing she has done—binding herself to you, witch.”

The Panther started to rise, to go with her, and Sun

Conch said, “No. Please. I wish to go alone. Let me do this. I will return as soon as I can.”

The Panther sank back to the ground, but his faded old eyes searched her face. “If you need me, you have but to call.”

She nodded. “I will. Elder.” And rose to her feet

Her cousins silently led the way across the plaza toward her mother’s small thatched house. As she walked, she held her chin high, and focused her eyes on their broad backs. She did not want to look into the faces of the people crowding the plaza. She could see them from the corners of her eyes, recoiling from her as she passed, pointing and whispering behind their hands, and knew what they must be saying. She had, after all, shamed her family by declaring her love for High Fox; then she’d returned home at the side of the most feared witch in the world. What had she expected? To be welcomed with open arms?

She shifted her gaze to the houses. Starlight glimmered on the thatched roofs, and frosted the palisade poles behind them. Clouds drifted through the midnight sky, their edges painted with the palest of silvers. As she neared her mother’s house, she slowed down, letting her cousins go ahead, and fought the overwhelming urge to vomit.

“Pull yourself together,” she whispered to herself. “Do it! You can’t let them see you like this.”

Her old ordered life had crumbled to dust before her eyes, and all of her sanctuaries had vanished. She couldn’t run to her family, High Fox, or her clan. Warriors who had once been friends now stalked the forests, waiting for a chance to murder her and everyone else she knew. The only thing she had left, the only thing she could be certain of… was herself.

Sun Conch clenched her jaw as Redbird and White sides pulled back the door hanging to her mother’s house, and announced, “We have brought your niece, Sun Conch.”

Sun Conch waited before the fire pit. Had it really only been four days since she’d sat there listening to her mother and aunt talk? It seemed like a lifetime.

Uncle Sawtooth, burly and tall, ducked out through the entry, followed by Sun Conch’s mother and Aunt Threadleaf, the clan matron. The elders threw mats down around the fire, and sat. Not one of them looked at her.

Uncle Sawtooth brushed long white hair away from his brown eyes. Her mother’s oldest brother, Sawtooth had seen three tens and nine Comings of the Leaves. He had deep wrinkles and a flat nose that spread halfway across his face. He said, “Redbird. Whitesides. You may go.”

Her cousins turned and trotted toward their own long house, which sat near the eastern palisade wall, twenty paces away.

Sun Conch folded her arms beneath her cape, and hugged herself. The people in the plaza kept a respectable distance, but all eyes were on her. Even The Panther watched from his place beside Nine Killer. He had a curious, worried expression on his elderly face. It touched Sun Conch that he would care. She was, after all, only a slave.

She said, “I am here, Uncle, as you requested. What is it you wish to speak with me about?”

Aunt Threadleaf lifted her eyes and glared at Sun Conch with open dislike. “You are a headstrong, foolish girl, who does not know her duty to her clan! That is why you stand here.”

Sun Conch said nothing. Her mother squeezed her eyes closed.

Uncle Sawtooth shifted to a more comfortable position, bringing up his knees, and wrapping his long arms around them. As always when he disciplined her, his voice came out soft and forgiving: “My niece, are you well? We saw you arrive and worried that you did not return to your family, as you should have.”

“I am well, Uncle. But I am no longer bound to my clan. I have given myself to The Panther.”

“Given!” Aunt Threadleaf shouted. “You had no right to give yourself to anyone! You are Star Crab! You are a child. You belong to your clan!”

Sun Conch stared unblinking into those white-filmed eyes. “Nonetheless, I have done it.”

“And the witch accepted?” Sawtooth asked.

“He did, Uncle.”

Her mother buried her face in her hands. Sun Conch longed to go to her, to comfort her, but she stood as if rooted to the hard-packed soil. It would be yet another breach of duty if she even sat down before her uncle gave her permission. She hugged herself tighter.

Uncle Sawtooth gazed up at her in concern. “Why did you do this, niece? To hurt your family? I know you must have felt trapped, your soul bruised, after all the shouting that went on in the plaza five days past. But why did you not come to me? You could have. I would have listened. Together we would have worked things out.” “