People of the Morning Star(52)
What had been meant as an insult couldn’t have served Seven Skull Shield better. He’d struggled to keep from grinning in anticipation as he’d accepted the mat.
You poor pathetic fool, Five Fists!
His plans aside, it hadn’t been the sort of slight that would have offended Seven Skull Shield in the first place. For the excellent meal alone he would have been willing to sit on his haunches and bark.
Now fully awake, he grinned to himself and eased the blanket off his shoulder. The blanket he would keep. He’d never owned such a regal piece of the weaver’s art. Woven out of the fine undercoat curried from winter bison hair, the thing was heavy, soft, and uncomfortably warm despite the cold draft circulating around the door.
He’d had ample opportunity to inspect the great room, memorize the locations of the most valuable carvings, ceramics, a fantastic scarlet-feathered cape the likes of which he’d never seen before, and a couple of small red siltstone statuettes that would bring a fortune among the river Traders. All he needed to do was retrieve them without a sound, wrap them carefully in the buffalo blanket, and slip out the door. By morning he’d be hidden in some nondesript warehouse. By tomorrow night he’d be signed onto some Trader’s canoe. Within two weeks he’d be bartering his goods for a fortune in some Pacaha town far downriver.
He started to rise when the barest whisper of a moccasin-clad foot rasped on the matting outside. Dropping flat, he clamped his eyes into slits, emulating the deep breathing of a man asleep.
The door shifted, allowing more of the night breeze to waft over Seven Skull Shield’s face. Then it swung open just enough that a man was able to slip inside. Carefully, the intruder replaced the door just so. Then he waited, standing silently, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.
So, who’s this? A household member who’d slipped out for an illicit rendezvous with a married man’s wife?
Seven Skull Shield opened his eyes wider in the gloom, casting a sidelong glance up at the dark form.
If he were a household member, he’d know the layout. He’d have already begun sneaking his way toward his bed.
No, this was a stranger. Seven Skull Shield could sense it. The man was doing exactly what Seven Skull Shield did when he sneaked into someplace where he wasn’t supposed to be. Like this intruder, he took his time, let his eyes adjust, studied the layout of the place.
Not only that, the intruder was too dark, and Seven Skull Shield caught the faintest odor of grease. He’s painted himself black!
The man turned his attention to Seven Skull Shield, cocked his head, and listened. Seven Skull Shield maintained the easy deep breathing, catering to the illusion.
On cat feet, the intruder eased forward. As he passed the glowing coals in the puddled-clay central hearth, Seven Skull Shield caught the reflected gleam from a long, flaked chert blade. A ceremonial knife! Nothing else had that kind of rippled surface. A long-handled war club hung from the man’s other hand.
Seven Skull Shield shifted, eased his blanket off, and considered. First option was to slip out the partially cracked door with his blanket—but no additional loot—and vanish into the night as originally planned. But that might lead to embarrassing questions if the intruder were up to as much malfeasance as Seven Skull Shield suspected.
Second, he could call an alarm, grab as much as he could in the ensuing confusion, and beat-feet for the landing. But that, too, entailed way too many potentials for disaster.
Meanwhile, a sense of indignation began to chafe against his irritated souls. Never before had he been invited into such a wealthy and influential person’s house, one literally bursting with rare items, any one of which could be Traded for a year’s worth of lodging, food, and willing nubile young women. Even more aggravating, he’d awakened just in time to help himself to the largess, and what happens? This pus-sucking interloper slips in to spoil the whole thing.
“Maggot,” Seven Skull Shield mouthed silently as he rose to his feet and ghosted after the intruder.
You think you’re going to cost me the greatest opportunity for loot that life and fortune has ever thrown my way?
Creeping silently was a skill Seven Skull Shield had perfected over the years. Tiptoeing had kept him alive in more situations than one. An amorous lover just didn’t live long if he couldn’t quietly escape another man’s wife’s bed. So, too, had he learned to blend into the shadows, slip thongs off door latches, pry apart thatch and matting, and numerous other methods of entry necessary to the unique art of sneaking around strange houses in the night.
The black-painted intruder went straight for the Clan Keeper’s room in the rear. From the way he moved, the fellow was no ordinary farmer or craftsperson, but a trained warrior. His movements were spare, no effort wasted, totally balanced and poised.