Columella’s souls froze. For long heartbeats, she and Blue Heron sat with locked eyes.
Blue Heron broke the silence, her words measured, toneless. “The tonka’tzi was my brother. That’s enough reason to stir me to rage. That the assassins came this close to sending my souls to our ancestors, that makes it even more personal.”
Distracted by the queasy sensation in her bowels, Columella fought to clear her wits. Massaging her temples with the tips of her fingers was probably a mistake, but she needed the ability to order her frantic and tumbling thoughts.
She says nothing about the attempt on the Morning Star. But who is behind the tonka’tzi’s murder and the attempt on the Keeper?
Or was that a ploy, a careful trick to mislead her? It wouldn’t be the first time a supposed “victim” faked her own attack as a means of pointing the finger of guilt in a different direction.
Columella forced herself to take a deep breath. “Upon the graves of our ancestors, Keeper, I know nothing about any attempts on either your life, or the tonka’tzi’s. The House of Evening Star is not involved in any way in these despicable actions. I give you my word on that.”
“And your brother’s?”
Columella nodded. “The High Chief knows nothing of these things.”
“High Dance has told you so?”
Columella avoided the trap, snapping, “No! If he didn’t know the tonka’tzi was assassinated, how could he tell me he wasn’t involved? Stop playing your tricky little games. If he’d been involved, I would know!” She let the anger run through her, then added in a more reasonable voice. “Not to mention the fact that coming here, to us, first, is even more insulting.”
Blue Heron’s fixed stare hadn’t so much as wavered. “Actually, you should feel flattered. It’s a measure of your competence and innate ability, Matron. You, of all people, have the cunning, initiative, and courage to attempt something like this.”
Columella chuckled dryly, the first fingers of relief stroking through her. “And the Morning Star would just sit mildly atop his high perch and let his family be murdered and displaced?”
“Do not make the mistake of thinking the Morning Star carries any allegiance to our House just because Chunkey Boy’s host body was ours once.” Blue Heron gave her a grim smile. “From my experience, Morning Star is ultimately pragmatic.”
“As you wish.” Columella sniffed, thinning her nostrils in the process. “But in the meantime have you given any thought to the possibility that whoever assassinated the tonka’tzi hoped that you would come here, make your accusations, and drive a wedge between us that could not be repaired?”
Blue Heron’s dark gaze sharpened. “Indeed I have. But if our antagonist is that calculating, perhaps you, good Matron, and the High Chief—capable as you are—might be his next victims. If he’s eliminating potential threats, you’d be next.”
Columella tried to keep her lips from twitching as she considered that. “That leaves another House as the perpetrator.”
“I’ve known for years that you collect information on the other Houses.” Blue Heron pressed the palms of her hands together suggestively. “Is it possible that some bit of information … perhaps something you might have heard from one of your sources, didn’t make sense until now?”
Columella arched an eyebrow. “Would it be a crushing revelation for you to learn that you are neither loved, nor cherished, by any of the other Houses of Four Winds Clan?”
“Neither crushing … nor a revelation,” she muttered dryly.
“Then I have heard nothing that would lead me to suspect any of the other Houses of this particularly heinous act.”
“I’ll take your word for that.” Blue Heron pursed her lips, frowned, and then cautiously said, “Meanwhile, I want you to consider this: the attempt to assassinate both the tonka’tzi and me was not the first attempt to upset our world. An attempt was made on the Morning Star several days ago.”
Columella stiffened, struggling to maintain an appearance of appropriate shock.
Blue Heron added, “Have you heard anything about that? Statements of frustration? Worries about upset plans? Pointless rumors?”
“No. Nothing … well, outside of the ordinary grumblings, envy, and resentment.”
“What if I told you the assassin was Cut String?”
Columella slowly narrowed her right eye into a knowing squint. “You’re saying that one of my cousins tried to kill the Morning Star?” She paused, meeting glare for glare. “And I only hear of it now?”