Blessed Sky Beings, say it isn’t so.
She didn’t see him as he stepped up to match her pace. One of the curious things about Salamander was that he could be invisible if he wanted to. Overlooked, and unnoticed. She had often thought that a curious ability of his, and one that she often wished were her own. Now, however, he was the last person she wanted to see.
“I would ask a favor of you?” he began, voice muted.
“What would that be?” She couldn’t keep the hostile tone from her voice.
“There is more to what happened than you know.”
“What if they were out there locking hips? What of it, Salamander? Was that reason for that Swamp witch to humiliate my sister? Did she have to drive her infant-naked through the middle of Sun Town like a barbarian slave? Was that reason to half kill Saw Back?”
“No,” he answered steadily, and placed a hand on her elbow, stopping her so that he could stare into her eyes. What she saw reflected there made her pause. What was it about him? That look penetrated her souls, carrying a terrible warning with it. What Power possessed him at moments like this?
“Pine Drop, you must hold your uncle back. Do you understand? If he pushes this thing, I will not be able to control it. One thing will lead to another, and there will be no way back for us. There is more here than you know.”
The words seemed to grow, shivering her souls. “What? What more?”
He glanced at the throng heading for the Council House, ignoring curious looks of the passersby. “I don’t have time right now. I was just lucky to have found you first. We have to go. Please, you must trust me. We can’t allow this to get out of hand, or our worst nightmares will become real.”
He let go, a terrible fear brimming in his eyes. That look, more than anything, frightened her.
“You must trust me,” he insisted as he hurried off. “Will you?”
She nodded halfheartedly, seeing relief flooding in his eyes. Then he was gone, trotting for the Council House on his thin legs.
What had she just done? What had she committed herself to?
Mud Stalker gripped his stone-headed hammer, tightening his hold until his fingers ached. Through slitted eyes he glared across the Council lodge at Salamander. The young Speaker was bundled in a warm buffalo robe. Occasional snowflakes drifted past. Wind seemed insolently to finger the thick brown hair, waving it this way and that as the cold gray day pressed down. Curse him, he had been trading one buffalo hide after another—spoils from his Trade with those Wash’ta fools who had piled all of their wealth on Owl Clan last fall. In the winter day’s chill, Mud Stalker could feel everyone’s envy of Salamander’s buffalohide cape.
Sweet Root had arrived, a double wrap of fabric around her shoulders. Pine Drop appeared, looking worried. She wore her blue jay-feather cape pulled tightly against the chill. As she stood beside the Clan Elder, her thoughtful eyes turned to Mud Stalker. What was that measuring look? In the confusion of the Council being called, he had yet to speak to her and find out what she knew of Night Rain’s humiliation. Something in her expression bothered him. Distress about her little sister, no doubt.
Thunder Tail was there, resplendent in his new bearskin—the only person who didn’t cast a covetous gaze at Salamander. He wore the glossy black pelt over his shoulder, the fur gleaming. The very sight of it made Mud Stalker’s stomach twist. It seemed that embarrassment dogged him at every turn these days.
He shot a hard glance at Deep Hunter. The Alligator Clan Speaker looked as if he were about to burst like a squashed chinquapin. His expression was a hard mask, and behind him, Saw Back looked ill. The side of the young warrior’s crushed face had mottled into blue-black under an angry mass of swollen scab.
Cane Frog entered Frog Clan’s part of the Council circle, her thick-veined hand resting on Three Moss’s shoulder.
Clay Fat and Turtle Mist were the last to take their places.
No sooner had Thunder Tail stepped out from under the awning than Deep Hunter strode out into the center by the charcoalblackened fire pit, and shouted, “You all know why we are here by now! The Swamp Panther woman, Anhinga, has attacked a member of my clan. A young man of my lineage! She has maimed him! Crushed the side of his face! Alligator Clan demands that this matter be taken up by the Council!”
“If you will wait your turn,” Thunder Tail called, “I will recognize you. You may think you are the leader of the Council, Deep Hunter, but that honor has not yet been bestowed upon you.”
Deep Hunter’s hands knotted as the muscles in his arms bulged. The expression on his face brought a latent smile to Mud Stalker’s lips. Despite his own rage, he could enjoy Deep Hunter’s rebuke.