Jerking up, he spilled berry juice over the floor, crying, “What was that?”
From outside his door, the guard asked, “Blessed Sun? Are you well?”
Webworm winced, blinked, and stared down where his hand was planted in the berry juice. Thoughts. Scattered thoughts.
I have Matron Night Sun. With her for bait, I will have Ironwood. “And then I will have murdered the last of my friends.”
In the light of the glowing coals, he could see his latest carving. The serpent lay curled within its eggshell, a black hole where the eye should be. Tomorrow he would set that eye. Perhaps he would make a little gift of the carving to Desert Willow.
He lifted his hand and began licking the sweet juice from his palm.
Fifty-four
In the course of a night, the world had changed. The knowledge lay deep down between Bad Cast’s souls. When he and Soft Cloth had returned to their house after watching the fires, it had been with a sense of some great portent. After she had fed the baby, they had coupled with a tender violence that left them both limp and drained.
He had awakened to the stench of smoke, still entwined in his wife’s arms. The light through the smoke hole was a dirty gray. Outside, the wind alternately roared and eddied, and bits of ash, like flakes of snow, drifted down from the skies.
Bad Cast kissed Soft Cloth’s shadowed cheek and rolled out from under the blanket. She murmured in her sleep and rolled over.
To his relief, the baby was still asleep. He pulled on his hunting shirt and climbed up the ladder and out into the day. He coughed, hawking up black phlegm. Looking to the sky, he was amazed to find the heavens blackened with smoke. He could see the stiff north wind rolling patterns of darkness across the skies.
Making his way through the gloom, he walked up the path to the rimrock and looked out over First Moon Valley. Wind gusts pushed at him, relented, and pushed again. Was it his imagination, or did the gusts have an unaccustomed bite to them? Through the haze he couldn’t even make out First Moon Mountain.
Someone coughed on the trail behind him, and he turned to see Ripple as he emerged from between the juniper trees.
“What a morning.” Bad Cast squinted up into the soot-filled air. “I’ve never seen it this bad.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Bad Cast waved. “Look—you can’t even see across the valley. Everything’s blue-brown. Even my spit’s black.”
“It’s the Dance.”
“What Dance? No one’s Dancing.” He looked out into the haze. “Equinox is coming. They should have started the first ceremonies up at Pinnacle House last night. Our elders should have been at the sipapu. With this wind, I’ll bet Blue Racer couldn’t even keep his costume on.”
“They Danced,” Ripple assured him, his thoughtful eyes on the gloomy valley. “Tonight, they shall Dance again.”
Bad Cast took a breath, wanting to cough. “This is part of Cold Bringing Woman’s vision, isn’t it?”
Ripple nodded.
“Can you tell me about it?”
Ripple smiled softly. “Do you remember the trail that leads up the north side of the mountain? The one that passes the old lightning-riven tree?”
“Sure. It passes through the trees on the north side. Ah, I recall. You’re thinking about the time that the four of us climbed up that way to spy on the First People’s solstice ceremonies.”
“They never knew we were there.” Ripple smiled. “Spots wouldn’t let me climb onto the top. He was afraid I might go in search of my father’s skull.”
“We climbed up that crack in the rocks,” Bad Cast remembered. “You couldn’t climb over the rim because Spots was holding your ankle.” He smiled at the memory. “You know, he probably saved your life.”
“Could you find that trail again?”
“Sure. I just have to look for—”
“Can you find it in the dark?”
Bad Cast frowned. “I don’t know.” He glanced at Ripple, seeing his friend’s sad expression. “Why?”
“They will be depending on you tonight.”
“Ripple? What’s wrong? You know something, don’t you?”
He seemed not to hear, but smiled, as if seeing something in the distant past. “We had some times, didn’t we? Remember when you made that willow-bark doll for Slipped Bark? And the time when Wrapped Wrist was coupling with that Strong Back Clan girl down by the river?”
“We stole their clothes.” Bad Cast laughed. “They had to wait in the willows, swatting mosquitoes until midnight before they could dare to sneak home without anyone seeing them.” A pause. “When I was courting Soft Cloth, we coupled in the willows once. She thought I was demented because I insisted on keeping one fist balled in our clothing the entire time.”