People of the Owl(133)
“No, Uncle.”
“What?”
“I don’t want a divorce.”
Mud Stalker grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. She stared at him over the basket rim. He searched her eyes, seeing a stubborn resolution there. “You will divorce him when I say so.”
“The clan may not arrange a marriage without the consent of the parties. Nor can it break a marriage unless the husband and wife agree. I disagree.”
“Night Rain doesn’t. She thinks you’ve been chewing jimsonweed. I’m not sure that she’s wrong. What is this crazy talk? Why are you defying me? I am your uncle, your clan’s Speaker.”
“Do you want my advice?”
“Given what you’ve said so far, probably not.”
“Then hear it anyway. I think Night Rain should stay in the marriage.”
Mud Stalker released her arm, shook himself, and asked, “Very well, Niece, since you’ve discovered all of these magical things, why?”
“Because she needs the discipline.”
“I’m not terribly impressed with yours at the moment.”
“Not discipline to the clan, Uncle. Discipline with life, with responsibility. She’s ready to run off to exile with Saw Back. You know, the Alligator Clan youth?”
“The one your husband got into trouble?” Mud Stalker nodded. “The one who was supposed to see to Jaguar Hide’s death but let him get away?”
“He’s not the sort we would want Night Rain to be married to. He’s dumber than a cooking clay—and not nearly so durable.”
“Obviously, considering it was Salamander who outsmarted him.” Mud Stalker rubbed his jaw, seeing the logic of her words.
“And another thing, Uncle. We have been blinded by our own preconceptions.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We have?”
“Why do you think Salamander is a stupid fool?”
“Because he is! Snakes, girl, four moons ago he was a weird little boy lost in games and silliness. Even his soul-scattered mother considered him to be an idiot and a failure. It took everything I had to maneuver her into marrying you to White Bird, and even more to ensure that addle-brained nit would follow his brother! By the Earth Monsters, who’d have thought that a bolt of lightning would deliver him to us like solstice supper?”
Her enigmatic smile cooled his enthusiasm as she said, “Watch him, Uncle. He is more than he seems.”
“You would advise me? About that fool boy we put on the Council? He’s a laughingstock!”
“For the sake of my clan, yes, I would advise you.”
“But you won’t divorce him?”
“No, Uncle. Not until he gives me a reason to.”
He hated the resolve filling her large brown eyes. Rot it, there had to be some way of talking sense into the girl. “Well, so be it.” An idea came to him. “After this last session in the Women’s House, it is apparent that Three Stomachs hasn’t been able to—”
“No, Uncle.”
“You’re right, Three Stomachs is out, but”—he narrowed his eyes—“have you thought about Speaker Deep Hunter? True he’s a little old, but for the moment he absolutely hates Salamander for aiding Jaguar Hide’s escape.”
“No, Uncle.”
“Deep Hunter is a Speaker, Niece. From a powerful clan. A man of real authority. Your coupling with him will balance some of the obligation we have to him. Not only that, but if this works out, if he can sire an heir, it might be a reasonable mating.”
“No, Uncle.”
“Well, it’s probably early to talk about marriage. I can tell you, however, that he has had his eye on you. I watch these things. Red Finger is going hunting with him in the next couple of days. I’ll have him delicately broach the subject. Trust me, Deep Hunter will oblige. And afterward, well, it will make him a little more amenable to our position in the Council.”
“No, Uncle.” She cocked her head, meeting his stare with defiance. “I am married. That’s the tip of the snake’s tail. The end. Find someone else.” With that she walked away, her feet swishing through the tall green grass.
Mud Stalker frowned, trying to grasp where the problem was. Snakes, she wasn’t really enamored of that skinny little idiot, was she?
Thirty-three
Anhinga cursed and rested the heavy wooden pestle on her shoulder as she studied her thumb. The long dark sliver had run under the skin where it folded at the joint. She used her teeth to pull it, turned her head, and spat it out. The pestle had been made of a long pole, taller than she was. The bottom had been sanded round to match the hollow burned into the stump.