Salamander stopped short, glancing back at Saw Back, before meeting Mud Stalker’s eyes. “Exactly what she had to, Speaker. Nothing more, nothing less.”
As Salamander walked past the stunned Moccasin Leaf and stepped out of the Council House, people parted to let him pass. Mud Stalker ground his teeth, his mind racing. He narrowed his eye as he shot a hard look at Deep Hunter. What bit of information could Salamander have used to back Deep Hunter down? What did they have in common?
Night Rain! She’s at the bottom of this!
As the Council broke up, he stood in the gray center of the circle, thinking. Deep Hunter’s game, he could understand. There were ways of dealing with the Speaker. But what about Salamander? Just what sort of game was he playing? Why did he care if Night Rain and Deep Hunter were dragged through the mud? What difference would it make to him if Alligator and Snapping Turtle Clans tore each other apart?
Forty-one
Salamander kneaded his temples in a futile attempt to soothe his pounding headache. The idea of sneaking over to the Serpent’s for some jimsonweed paste, or perhaps for a couple of puffs on the old man’s pipe, was so tempting.
Now, with the Council mollified, or at least held at bay, he considered his more immediate problem. He looked at his wives, together for the first time. They sat in his house, equidistant from each other, eyes hard, brown, and fiery. Their feet rested on the burned bones of his ancestors. That thought seemed to stick sideways inside him. Was White Bird’s Dream Soul watching him even now? Was he shaking his head in pity, or just laughing outright? A man with three wives deserved anything they dished out for him.
Anhinga sat defiantly, muscular arms crossed over her rounding belly, her chin high. Pine Drop shifted back and forth, fists knotting and opening as if she’d like to wrap them around Anhinga’s smooth throat. Night Rain glared miserably up from the floor, a fabric wrap around her waist. Her face was swollen from tears, and a red welt marked her forehead where the tumpline had bruised it.
“The whole of Sun Town is talking about what happened!” Pine Drop cried.
“Good! Perhaps we will finally get some respect!” Anhinga shot back.
Salamander raised his arms. “Stop it!” Pain blasted through his head, reflecting on his face.
In the sudden silence, only the cracking of the fire could be heard. Then his mother’s voice asked from outside, “Is everything all right in there? Do I need to send the Speaker to deal with this?”
He winced, wishing he could press the ache out of his skull. “He’s here, Mother. He’s already dealing with it.”
“All right. Be sure and send your uncle home when he’s finished. I have a stew cooking. Acorns and raccoon mixed with squash. His favorite.”
“Yes, Mother.” Salamander closed his eyes, fists knotting. “Snakes, if it’s not one thing, it’s another!”
“Husband?” He heard the first change in the timbre in Anhinga’s voice. By Masked Owl, was that concern replacing the anger? “What would you have had me do? Let Saw Back break my neck and leave me under a log?”
“You did what you had to,” Salamander replied, making up his mind.
Pine Drop pointed a hard finger. “Very well, Husband, I see where this is going. You just remember, I did as you asked me to today. Against my judgment I held my uncle back during the Council. You asked for a favor, and I trusted you enough to grant it—at no little risk to myself. But I’m not finished with Anhinga. She didn’t have to humiliate my sister. She could have let her sneak back to camp, dressed, and with some self-respect.”
“Then it would have been her word against mine!” Anhinga cried, thumping her chest between her breasts. “She and that slithering serpent she had locked hips with could have said anything about me! Who would the Sun People have believed then, first wife? Who? Night Rain? Or the barbarian bitch?”
“Enough!” Salamander cried, his souls aching in time to his head. “Night Rain, do you understand how dangerous the game is that you are playing?”
“Husband, you can’t—”
He silenced Pine Drop with a slash of his hand. “She has betrayed you, too, Wife. Not just your position as first wife, but your position as the next Clan Elder.” He saw the struggle inside as Pine Drop juggled the information. She was caught between loyalty and what Night Rain had done to them all.
“She is young,” Salamander added in a gentle voice. “People make mistakes when they are young. We have controlled the damage.”
“You forgive her?” Anhinga asked in disbelief.
“This stops here.” Salamander squinted against the throbbing. “This is not a matter for the clans, or the Council, or the Clan Elders to work out. We barely kept our world from exploding like a mudtempered pot out there. But for Deep Hunter’s guilt, and Pine Drop’s intervention, we would have Snapping Turtle and Alligator Clans at each other’s throats. If it had come to blows, if some of the hotheaded young warriors had started to fight … Well, you know how close we just came to the abyss.”