“He is my husband,” she replied softly. “I can’t … well you wouldn’t understand.” Snakes! How did she explain to her hardeyed uncle that no matter what happened in their bed, but for Salamander’s goodwill she’d be a laughingstock throughout Sun Town? That in his arms, she was safe from the guffaws and jokes?
Mud Stalker studied her thoughtfully. “I saw him the day of the old Serpent’s cleansing. He was hearing things, talking to the air. His eyes were vacant, as hollow as the Land of the Dead. Pine Drop was so frightened she dragged him away—and then he was out of sight for days, rumor said he was sick.”
“He was.” Night Rain swallowed hard. “He ate mushrooms. Something he found at the Serpent’s after cleaning the bones. It did something to him.”
“I see. Are you sure it wasn’t poison? Something a witch would be involved in?”
“Salamander? A witch? No, Uncle, he’s no witch.” But what is he? That question had begun to preoccupy so many of her thoughts.
“You are protecting him! Why? What has he done to you?”
“Nothing!”
He grunted, lips pressed in thin anger.
“I have told you the truth.” She could feel sweat beginning to warm her armpits, and the flush that rose in her face.
“Yes,” he hissed. “I see. The truth.” He paused, as if an idea had been born in his head. “A witch would have many ways to bend people to his will. And, what if …”
“What if what?” she demanded, a feeling of unease creeping through her.
Mud Stalker’s smile took on a predatory look. “If I asked you to make a choice, would you choose to serve your clan, or Salamander?”
“The clan,” she insisted doggedly.
He chuckled then, a coldness in his eyes. “Remember this day, Niece. I will hold you to your words.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when he stalked off. But what had been behind that last hard look?
Salamander sat with his back to the clay-daubed wall and watched his mother as she worked at her loom. Her hair, once so dark and perfectly kept, now reminded him of dirty cottonwood seed, windblown and tumbled. Her face had sagged. He thought the tissue that had once held it to the bone had grown tired and no longer cared.
A yellow fire popped in the central hearth, sending sparks to dance up toward the rafters. Above him the packed thatch slumbered under a blanket of soot. Bags and netting hung from the high poles, preserving the last of the pecans and acorns against the coming of spring. The other bags he remembered from fall had disappeared over the winter.
His mother’s bed, on the west side of the house, was unkempt, as if she’d just thrown the buffalo robe to one side and gone about her work.
“I have come to understand something,” Salamander said. “About you. I began to understand the night I watched the Serpent’s souls rising. With the help of the mushrooms, I could hear his souls.”
His mother slapped at her ear as if pestered by a mosquito.
“I think you tried so hard to talk to Uncle Cloud Heron that your Dream Soul slipped into the realm of the Dead. When White Bird died, he took the last of your world with him. I understand why you would want to send your souls after White Bird and Cloud Heron.” He paused. “I have seen the different paths of the future, Mother. I have to make some terrible choices. It would be so easy just to let go.”
She tilted her head, her fingers using the shuttle to pass more of the white thread through the warp. If he listened intently, he could hear the soft hum of the Lotus Gathering Song coming from deep in her throat.
“I want you to know that I don’t blame you.” He looked down at his thin hands. “Since I Danced the One with brother mushroom and old Heron, I have been haunted by what is coming. There is a very good chance that I will lose everything: my wives, my children, my family and clan. How am I supposed to choose between my life and a Dream?”
She plucked a knot out of the weave, part of a pattern of interwoven flowers and swooping eagles.
“I caught a faint glimpse of myself in the future. Old, wise, and surrounded by my children and grandchildren. At that moment, I knew complete contentment. I was surrounded by love the way a person is bathed with golden morning sunshine in the spring. I had this knowledge that I had lived my life to the fullest. My souls were bursting, and my wives were smiling their love at me. It was so wonderful!”
He smiled at the glorious ache of happiness.
Wing Heart mouthed words, lips moving silently.
“Another part of the vision let me share the One. Old Heron Danced me through it. You cannot imagine! Mother, it is bliss. Like flying while weighing nothing. The purity of that brief instant makes a part of my souls crave it with a hunger you can’t conceive.” He shook his head. “No words will describe the silent thunder of its beauty. How can I give that up?”