His knowing eyes had narrowed, watching her the way a hawk did a swamp cottontail. “Ah, honesty at last.” He twisted a long lock of her hair around his finger. “Nothing is beyond attaining, Night Rain. Not if you ally yourself with the right accomplices. What you become, who you become, depends on you, on what you are willing to do to make your dreams come true.”
She bit her lip, saying nothing.
He made a calming gesture. “You must understand, these things take time. They take compromise and dedication. Sometimes you must make difficult choices, decisions that place you in uncomfortable positions with your clan, and even your lineage.” He shrugged. “You are here, coupling with me. That proves that those decisions are not difficult for you.”
“You want me to work against my clan?”
He studied her, expression neutral. “Would you be Clan Elder one day? All you need tell me is a simple yes, or no.”
Her heart sank in her chest. “Do I have any choice?”
“Oh, there is always a choice, little wren. I can tell that you enjoyed coupling with me. I can teach you more ways of kindling that fire within your hips. And, as an added benefit, I might be persuaded to send for Saw Back. If you are good, I might even allow the two of you to dally here in secret occasionally.” His eyes narrowed. “I am told that Saw Back has come to absolutely hate your husband. He blames him for his misfortunes.”
Night Rain’s heart was pounding. Deep Hunter noticed, reaching out to place his fingers against the pulse in her neck. “Relax, little wren. In life there is punishment and reward. If you help me, I will see that everything you want comes to you.” He paused, searching her eyes. “Clan Elder?”
Mistrusting, Night Rain stared at him. “You could really do that?”
He nodded, so assured of himself that she couldn’t help but believe him. “Of course. But only with the right accomplice.” He leaned back, drawing her down beside him. “Tell me, Night Rain, are you that accomplice? Can you become my ally, knowing that with a little discretion, you can have everything?”
Her souls were trembling, but she hesitated. In that instant the memory of Pine Drop slapping her in front of Salamander flashed before her. She spoke almost without volition. “Yes, Speaker.”
“Good,” he whispered, bending close to brush his lips across hers. “Now, let me show you some new ways to throw tinder on a man’s fire.”
Water dripped in a line of rings as Green Crane, Trader of the Wash’ta People, lifted his paddle for another bite in the murky brown swamp. He had begun to question the wisdom of this journey southward to find the People of the Sun.
The canoe he and Always Fat paddled, slipped forward, powered by their muscular strokes as he glanced uneasily around him. Everywhere he looked, an endless pattern of green masked the trees. Through the few breaks in the foliage he could glimpse a dim world of black tree trunks wound with vines. The forest seemed to stretch on forever.
Ahead of them, the channel narrowed, ending in a verdant mat of reeds, duckweed, and flowering vines that swarmed over the fallen carcass of a bald cypress. The rotting trunk lay square across the passage, blocking any travel. The baleful eyes of a medium-sized alligator glared out at them from the scummy green surface. Turtles wearing forest-dark shells slipped from the protruding branches where they had been sunning themselves.
Green Crane shipped his paddle and looked back at his skinny companion. “We are lost.”
“Good!” Always Fat made a face. His name was a jest. Always Fat looked like a walking skeleton. His ribs made a cage of his chest. Stringy arms held the paddle, and his knees looked like knobs in the middle of thick cane stalks. Mild resignation filled his long face. “I’m so glad you don’t leave me baffled with hidden meanings. It pleases me that you can be so blunt when all I’d like to hear is something hopeful. Like, ‘It must just be around the next bend.’”
Green Crane rubbed the back of his muscular neck as the canoe drifted forward. He and Always Fat were opposites, as well as inseparable companions. They had been planning this journey for a whole turning of the seasons, content to leave it hovering at the edge of imagination until Spring Cypress had arrived in their little village. Green Crane had been smitten at the sight of her. His attraction had only grown as he came to know her.
She was an enigma: A woman from Sun Town, that’s all she would say. In the days it had taken to woo her, he had learned little more about her. He knew that she had come to his bed as a virgin, that she had left Sun Town of her own will over a broken love, and little else. One of the other Traders in his village thought he might have seen her before, and that she might have been Rattlesnake Clan; but he couldn’t be sure of it, nor would Spring Cypress confirm the story. She had just smiled sadly, and told him, “That life is dead.”