People of the Moon(206)
“Go home, Cactus Flower.” Spots smiled gently. “I will be there as soon as I can. Then, well, you decide. You may even grow tired of me and decide to go back to your old life.”
She gave an irritated shake of the head. “You’re not going to be talked out of this, are you?”
“What good would my word to you be if it weren’t good to anyone else? Oh, and take my Trade. I got a nice piece of turquoise today.”
He helped her pick up her things and fill her pack. When she was ready, he gave her a final hug, relishing the feel of her cold body against his. In a last act, he brushed his lips across her forehead.
“Take care, Spots,” she said with resignation, and he watched her walk through the southeast gate. The guard didn’t react to her wave.
Spots took a deep breath, picked up his blanket, and folded it into a square. Taking the knife from his belt pouch, he slipped it between the folds of the blanket and had a final look around. Both guards seemed completely oblivious to anything but shivering.
Spots walked forward, passing by the side of the cage as if on his way to the kiva entrance. He hesitated beside the thick poles only long enough to slip the blanket inside.
“Cold Bringing Woman comes,” Nightshade said from within. “It’s our night, Spots. Wait for me in the kiva entrance.”
He continued on his way, the gloom of evening darkening around him. Several of the remaining Traders had packed their goods and were walking out of the plaza, tossing waves to the guards.
Did they keep track? Were they aware that Spots had remained? He’d never seen them keep a count of who went in and out, and besides, the numbers of people passing was large. Who was to say if someone came in one way, and left through the other gate?
He could see Nightshade’s dark figure as she sawed at the ropes that secured the door to her cage. Moments later the old woman stepped out, the blanket over her head. She hobbled toward him, ducking into the shelter of the kiva entrance.
“I swear, my joints have stiffened during my days in there.”
He sniffed, wincing at her odor.
“Come,” she said evenly. “There will be water in the Priests’ room behind the altar.”
“We can’t go there! It’s forbidden!”
She snorted derisively. “Who’s going to notice? It’s equinox. All the Priests are out Blessing the fields in preparation for the final moon before harvest. None will be back within the walls for another hand of time.”
Heart in his throat, Spots followed Nightshade down the stairs, across the great kiva floor, past the altar, and behind the screens. She made her way slowly up the northern stairs into the Priests’ room.
Spots peered around in the gloom. Large cedar boxes held different costumes. Masks hung from pegs on the wall. It seemed to Spots that the black eye holes were watching his every move with displeasure.
“Here.” Nightshade removed a wooden lid from a large water jar. She used a piece of cloth taken from one of the boxes and began sponging herself. The air picked up the odor of damp excrement.
“I’m sorry, Elder,” Spots whispered. “There was nothing I could do. It was hard enough to sneak you food and water.”
“You did just fine, young hunter. More than I would have hoped for. The filth is only on the outside, and the body but a husk.” He could see her smile. “What counts is in the souls. Look at yourself. That pretty young woman has seen past your scars. Your courage, humility, and kindness spoke to the longing and loneliness in her life. In you she found a part of herself that was missing. You made her whole, as she made you.”
“She wasn’t lonely,” he pointed out. “She had men there all the time.”
“Is that what you think? That a warm body beneath the blankets is company? For her it was only illusion, the image of what life should be. Then you came along with the real thing and she’ll never be happy until she finds it again.”
He wasn’t sure he believed that.
Nightshade continued sponging herself and asked, “Could you pick that jar up? I want you to pour it slowly over my head so I can rinse all of me clean.”
He picked up the heavy jug and hesitated. “It will splash all over!”
“After this night, that will be the least of the Priests’ worries.”
He did as directed, feeling the water splattering against his legs and feet as she washed her hair and wrung out the last of the water. A long white robe served her for a towel before she dropped it to the floor to dry her feet. Then one by one she picked through the robes, finding a short white tunic. In a box she discovered buffalo socks and yucca sandals that fit her feet. Fingering through the garments she took down a beautiful macaw-feather cloak that hung down almost to her knees. Finally she picked a particularly gruesome mask from the wall. She held the piece at arm’s length, staring at the white-rimmed eye holes, at the long muzzle and wicked-looking teeth. Stringy gray hair had been pasted to the domed skull.