“He was called Mud Puppy,” the youth said, “now is he known as Salamander.”
“But you said you were Salamander.” Always Fat shifted in the back of the canoe.
“I was Mud Puppy before I was made a man.”
Green Crane slapped his sides. “We have come to find you! To show you this.” He fished in his belt pouch to retrieve a little red stone owl.
At sight of it, Salamander’s face brightened. “How is she?”
“Safe. Spring Cypress said to give this little owl to you when I saw you. To tell you it bore her safely to my people. Being safe, she would return the owl with great thanks. She thought you might need it to keep your own luck strong.”
He made a pushing-away gesture with his hands. “It was a gift—not just for her journey, but for all of her life. She is my friend forever. Return it to her with my love and my fondest wishes for her health and happiness.”
“You said you are Speaker?” Always Fat had his paddle balanced across his knees. “As in the Council?”
Salamander nodded sadly.
“But you are a … a …”
“A boy?” he supplied. “I’m afraid my body has not caught up with the age that this last turning of the seasons has branded into my souls.”
“Can you show us the way to Sun Town?”
“It would please me to do so.”
“How far?”
Salamander glanced at the slanting sun. “We shall be there sometime after nightfall. You shall have to stay on the Turtle’s Back until you are cleansed. Are you familiar with our ways?”
“We have heard of this.” Green Crane reseated himself and collected his paddle. “We have only come to Trade. Not visit. Once we have done that, then we can return to our people. You need not bother with a cleansing.”
They had not followed Salamander for even a hand’s time when the youth looked across at them, asking, “Is Spring Cypress happy?”
“She is. Or rather she will be once we return with our Trade.”
“She is to be his wife.” Always Fat pointed at Green Crane. “He has fallen in love with her and makes this journey to acquire wealth to pay for her.”
Salamander studied him thoughtfully across the short distance separating the canoes. “Are you worthy of her?”
Green Crane shifted. What was this youth to her? Who was he? An old interest of hers? “I would hope that I am.”
“Do not hope,” Salamander said soberly. “You must always be worthy. There is a difference, a matter of commitment that you would make when dedicating yourself to such a woman as Spring Cypress.”
“Did you once hold hopes of marrying her?” Always Fat asked the question Green Crane couldn’t.
Dreamy eyes covered Salamander’s smile. “She was beyond my aspirations. She will have to tell you the story when she thinks it proper. Let us just say that she and I share a special bond between our souls. We had a single precious moment together that filled us both with courage. She left rather than spend her life in misery.” He shot a measuring look at Green Crane again, as though he were weighing his souls.
“I think,” Green Crane mused in a voice only Always Fat could hear, “that he is more than just a green youth with a title.”
“Indeed he may be.”
In a louder voice, Green Crane asked, “Can you help us conduct our Trade, Salamander? Say, for the sake of Spring Cypress? Our success benefits her.”
Salamander barely seemed to hear, as if lost in his thoughts, but then said, “I am happy to advise you. By that Owl you carry and the Spirit Helper who watches over you, I will make you a most favorable Trade. Just what did you bring, and what do you need?”
Green Cane knotted a fist in victory. He could already imagine Spring Cypress’s smile when he returned with a canoe loaded to the gunwales with finery.
The knoll protruded from the swamp like a floating monster’s back. Anhinga sat cross-legged on the dark soil, her eyes on the lofty green depths of the cypress forest. The canoe she had used to come here was pulled up on the muddy bank. A fire smoked beside her, the blue wreath rising pungently from the damp wood. Mosquitoes hummed in a column, stymied by the crushed gumweed she had mixed into grease and slathered over her skin.
As she waited, she absently wound her finger around and around a long black lock of hair. Her other hand pressed against her abdomen. She was late, that was all. It happened to women who were worried, working hard, or under pressure in strange circumstances. Had anyone been more anxious than she married to a stranger in a strange land filled with enemies?
You’re all right. You haven’t had the morning sickness. You don’t feel different. But how did a woman feel? She made a face. Surely Salamander couldn’t have planted a child that quickly.