“Have you ever thought of drilling the hole afterward?” Mud Stalker asked, his shadow blotting the sunlight.
Salamander looked up. “It’s harder to hold a small bead and drill the center than it is to do it this way.” He cocked his head. “We always make beads this way. Even when we’re making them of stone.”
Mud Stalker smiled, the lines in his face deepening. “Yes, but you like to do things differently than most people, Speaker.” Knees crackled as he squatted, his ruined arm cradled in his lap. A faint smile bent his sun-creased lips as he looked at Wing Heart. The old woman’s fingers plucked at the fabric on her loom. He raised his voice. “Good Morning, Wing Heart!”
Salamander’s mother remained oblivious, her lips moving as she talked soundlessly to her lost souls.
“Can I be of help, Speaker?” Salamander asked.
Mud Stalker turned flinty eyes on him. “I thought perhaps we could have a little discussion, you and I.”
“Speak.” Salamander eyed his drill, positioned it just so, and began rotating the sand-encrusted cane. To his satisfaction it didn’t slip to one side or the other.
“I made you.”
“What?”
“I made you what you are, Salamander. Without me you would have had nothing. On White Bird’s death, the Speakership would have gone to Half Thorn.”
“I suppose.”
“Good. I’m glad that you have enough sense to understand that.” His eyes hardened. “You are in a great deal of danger, Salamander.”
He couldn’t stop the faint smile. “If only you knew, Speaker. But I think you are more worried about Pine Drop and Night Rain than any predicament I might find myself in.”
“I would like you to divorce my nieces.”
Salamander sawed back and forth on the bow as the drill ate its way through the bone. Only when the sand-tipped cane cut a clean round hole through the bone, did he look up. “Have you discussed this with Pine Drop?”
Mud Stalker’s gaze hardened. “She has decided that she will stay with you. I am hoping that you—obliged as you are to me—will be a little smarter than she is.” His smile widened. “I would not like anything to happen to you.”
Salamander carefully positioned his drill over the next of the holes. Using his block to bear down, he rotated the tip carefully to create a guide. “Speaker, let us make one thing clear, shall we?”
“Indeed, Salamander.”
“I admit that you had a hand in making me Speaker. You were responsible for my initiation at the Men’s House, and for all of that, odd as it may sound, I thank you.”
“Why would that sound odd?”
“Because each of the things you did for me was for your own personal gain. You wanted me as Owl Clan Speaker precisely so that you could destroy me. Through me, you could strike at Mother and at Owl Clan. Given that fact, I have no obligation to you. That is the thing I would like made clear.”
Mud Stalker reached up with his left hand to stroke his chin. “Others might not see it that way, Salamander.”
“But I do, Mud Stalker. So does Pine Drop.” He smiled. “Night Rain is pregnant.”
“She hasn’t missed her moon yet!”
Salamander enjoyed the rasping sound of his drill as it ground through the bone. “Shall we dispense with the rest of our pleasantries? Stated as briefly as possible: I owe you nothing. You and I have no obligation between us. In fact, if memory serves, Snapping Turtle Clan still has obligations to Owl Clan in return for the many gifts that my brother, White Bird, bestowed upon you when he returned from the north.” With his chin, Salamander indicated the copper turtle hanging on Mud Stalker’s necklace.
The Speaker’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Do not attempt to remind me of my obligations.”
“It is the food that nourishes the clans, Speaker.” Salamander shot him a measuring glance. “Without obligation, we are nothing. Harmony disappears, and we end up at each other’s throats. Depending on what happens, will you remember that in your dealings with Deep Hunter?”
“I have the ability destroy you.”
“By branding me a witch?”
Mud Stalker made a forgiving gesture. “All right, perhaps you are not obligated to me. I grant you that, but if you work with me, help me to unseat Thunder Tail and put Sweet Root in his place, I might be persuaded to save your life. Allow you to remain married to Pine Drop, at least.”
Salamander chuckled softly. “As if that was my only worry? Oh, Speaker, if you only knew the choices that lie before me.”
“Then I take it we cannot come to an accommodation?”