Witchery definitely had downsides.
“I’ll get a full night’s sleep in Flat Pearl Village,” he mumbled to himself, and rubbed his face with callused hands. Sun Conch stirred as Panther crawled over her and stood to stretch. She blinked awake, looked up at him, and smiled with innocent eyes.
“Girl, I want you to go and find Nine Killer. Tell him I would speak with him here.”
“Yes, Elder.” She yawned, stretching, her petite fists knotted. Gathering a blanket, she started for the doorway.
“And, come right back.”
“Yes, Elder.”
Immediately after she left, Black Spike ducked through the door flap having seen to his morning duties. The Weroance settled himself on the matting across the fire. “Our breakfast should be ready soon. My slaves are heating the remains of last night’s feast.”
“There didn’t seem to be much left, from the empty bowls I saw.”
“Those Flat Pearl men, they eat like bears in fall. They always have.” Black Spike arched an eyebrow and then allowed himself a satisfied smile. “Actually, I’m just as happy to have fed them. Much happier, in fact, since I’d be brooding today had we killed them yesterday.”
“Is that an admission that Nine Killer’s head is better off on his shoulders than on a stick before your Great House?”
“Yes, I think so.” Black Spike gave him a sober look. “Thank you for this chance.”
“I just helped you to do what your heart wanted to in the first place. But, Weroance, we’ve still to cut our way through this mess. The mist obscuring this matter is as thick today as it was yesterday. In clearing our sight, we may well find ourselves faced with equally distasteful situations.”
“I suppose, but you’ll be finding them in Flat Pearl lands. Not here.”
“Probably. Speaking of which, where is High Fox this morning?”
Black Spike reached into the pouch at his side and pulled out his clay pipe. From a bark container, he poured tobacco into the bowl and lit it with a burning twig from the fire. Puffing a blue cloud, he exhaled and considered The Panther. “I sent him out to one of the outlying houses beyond the fields. I thought his presence there would be better for relations last night. Why wiggle your fingers before a snapping turtle’s nose?”
“A wise decision,” Panther said, and suddenly understood why the boy had come sneaking in last night. He wasn’t supposed to be there. “For the future, I want you to keep him here, inside the palisade at all times.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Did he kill Red Knot?”
“No, of course not. You already know that.”
“Then, Weroance, keep him here, in sight and accompanied by a guard, so that all may see him.”
Black Spike sucked deeply on his pipe, thoughtful eyes on Panther. “You have a reason for this, don’t you? Planning something again.”
“Of course. An innocent man doesn’t run, for he has nothing to hide. And, if you will pardon my use of your own words, there are times when wiggling your fingers in front of a snapping turtle’s nose can produce the most exciting results.”
“What? Getting your fingers bitten off?”
“Only if you are slow of reflex. That’s why High Fox must be protected at all times. An armed guard to accompany him everywhere, even out to squat in the fields when he relieves himself. In the meantime, his being under guard will allow me to produce him upon request, a fact soothing to certain suspicious parties who still believe he killed the girl.”
“Were you always this clever?” Black Spike grinned. One of his incisors appeared chipped.
“No, Weroance, for most of my life, I made a fool of myself in one way or another. For now, promise me you will keep him close.”
“Very well, he will stay here under close guard. If anyone tries to harm him, I will send word immediately.”
“And let me know who, that is the most important thing of all. By dangling our bait, we seek to discover exactly who the snapping turtle is. That in turn will take us to the murderer.”
“As you wish.”
Old Moth entered the house, followed by several younger women, each carrying a wooden trencher brimming with food. The old woman artfully avoided Panther’s eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but age and the terrible scar had changed her features. The younger women placed the round-bottomed cooking pots beside the fire to heat, and added wood to the blaze. Panther stoked his own pipe and puffed contentedly.
Only after the slaves had handed Panther a wooden plate heaped with mashed pumpkin and a bowl of hominy did they step back to their small fire by the doorway.