“No, none whatsoever.”
Nine Killer turned, seeing that The Panther had hobbled down from the palisade and was seating himself in Sun Conch’s canoe. Trouble might just be coming to a close in Three Myrtle Village, but it would really begin to brew when they landed at Flat Pearl.
Nine Killer gave Stone Cob one last nod, and strode toward his warriors where they pushed their canoes out into the gently undulating water.
Pray to Okeus you find the solution to this, old man. By making this arrangement with Stone Cob, he was acting without his Weroansqua’s approval. Not even the dark god could help him if she ever found out.
The Panther sat with his chin braced on his palm, the water sloshing about his feet forgotten for the moment. To his left, the wooded shoreline passed in silence, the only sound that of the water on the hull, the dripping of the paddles, and the muted conversation of the warriors around them as the small flotilla paddled for Rat Pearl Village.
Panther should have been thinking about Hunting Hawk, and what he’d say to her. Instead, his attention remained on the old slave woman. It couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t!
Panther shifted, rocking the canoe. Sun Conch paddled with no more thought than she used to breathe. “The old slave, Moth. What do you know about her?”
Sun Conch barely shrugged. “She was taken before I was born. Monster Bone captured one of the Mamanatowick’s Weroances. She was the man’s wife. Not of the Mamanatowick’s clan, herself, but married into the family.”
Panther knotted a fist. “The Weroance, do you remember his name?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. Something about fire. There was
“White Fire?” Panther asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes, that was it. The joke was that he might have been called White Fire, but when they burned him, he was greasy black.”
“Blessed Ohona.”
“Elder?” She stopped paddling and turned to peer at him, worried. She had removed her feather cape and laid it over her knees. The supple deer hide dress she wore had long braided fringes on the sleeves and hem, which accentuated the slimness of her body. Only her beaked face had any shape, and that was too round, the eyes too large. She frowned. “Are you all right, Elder?”
Panther took a deep breath and let it slowly out of his lungs. The feeling within him was as if a giant hand had reached into his breast and clamped onto his heart. “I’m … fine.”
Panther gazed blindly at the passing water; Vs rippled out from the canoes as they lanced the waves coming in from Salt Water Bay.
How could a human being change so much? Nothing of that beautiful woman he had known remained in the burned old hag.
Or is it that you just didn’t want to see?
What was it she had said? That lifetime was gone? Or something to that effect?
“Do you know how it happened, Sun Conch? How they were captured?”
“Water Snake had just become Mamanatowick, inheriting from his father. What was his name?”
“Blue Gill,” Panther supplied woodenly.
“Yes, Blue Gill. He died, and Water Snake became the great chief. Rumor said that he wanted to make his own name for himself and he launched a war against all the Independent villages. At the height of the raiding, Monster Bone took a small party of warriors and slipped down to the south, to Appamattuck Village. No one expected them there. Monster Bone sneaked into the palisade and captured this White Fire and the woman.”
“Her name was Sweet Stick?”
“I think so. The warriors brought them back, traveled right through the center of the Mamanatowick’s territory, and brought them to Three Myrtle Village. Then Monster Bone sent a message to Water Snake, telling him he had his brother White Fire and this Sweet Stick. He offered to ransom them, trade them off in exchange for territory.” “And Water Snake said no,” Panther filled in glumly. “Better a martyred brother to solidify his rule, than a potential adversary.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.” Sun Conch continued paddling, never missing a beat.
I would. Panther let his arm dangle over the side of the canoe. The cold water began to numb his hand as it rushed through his fingers. If only I could numb my soul the same way.
But he couldn’t. Not even after all these years. The wound was still there, ragged, ready to bleed.
Sunset cast a luminescent glow across the southwestern sky. Against the fading layers of orange, yellow, violet, and purple, winter’s naked branches created a black trace work that reflected off the still water of Flat Pearl Inlet. Overhead, two flocks of brown geese honked and flapped across the heavens.
Hunting Hawk had heard the cry of the sentry over the charter of the geese and ducked carefully under the door flap of her Great House. She kept one hand on the frame, lest her balance fail her, and steadied herself with her walking stick. Once outside, she hobbled purposely forward, her sassafras stick tapping the hard ground. Shell Comb stepped out of_ one of the storehouses and cut across to match her mother’s pace.