Now the partially formed hull had been muscled up onto the beach, and the laborious process of burning out the interior had begun.
Salamander waved at a shining black fly that tried to suck sweat from his forehead. He watched as the pest rose, buzzing in a lazy circle—and was in turn snatched from the air by a long green dragonfly.
“Sometimes things do work out for the best,” he called after the departing dragonfly.
“What was that?” Yellow Spider asked as he added kindling to a pile of coals in the hollow. Flames crackled as blue smoke rose in a smudge.
“Occasionally good comes of the right timing.” Salamander changed the grip on his adze and began chipping at the charcoal inside the cavity. Making a canoe was an art that involved moving fire constantly up and down the interior of the boat. The burn had to be hot enough to char the wood, but not so hot as to split the grain. Easy at first when the log was thick, it became a great deal trickier when the hull began to thin.
For two days Salamander and Yellow Spider had been at the chore while Bluefin made the Trade run for Swamp Panther sandstone. He chipped charcoal loose and flicked it back into the fire to be completely consumed. All in all, though slow, it was a great deal easier than hacking hard cypress wood out by hand.
Yellow Spider bent to his work, satisfied the fire was burning as he wished. For a time nothing but the hollow thunk, thunk of their adzes disturbed the morning. That, and more flies, drawn by their sweat.
Yellow Spider straightened and ran a hand over his damp forehead. “Did you know that Moccasin Leaf has been talking to people in the lineages?”
“She is saying that it is time that I was replaced as Speaker,” Salamander replied flatly. “There is talk that I am not worthy of being Speaker. That I have been dabbling in witchcraft.”
Yellow Spider nodded. “People are uneasy, Salamander. Some think you had something to do with your mother losing her souls. Others think you and Anhinga have forged some kind of destructive alliance, that you are plotting with her to harm the People.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand it. I’ve never seen you act like a witch.”
“I frighten them.”
Yellow Spider stopped short and stared. “I thought they just didn’t like you.”
“It’s not that. I’m something they can’t understand. They can feel the Power that has wound around me. It whispers to their souls, but they can’t quite hear the words. They can feel the struggle about to be unleashed.”
“What struggle?”
“For the future of the People. I am supposed to choose.”
Yellow Spider’s soft brown eyes looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. No one wants you to choose anything.”
“Masked Owl does, and so does Many Colored Crow.”
“So, choose one. Why should that be so difficult? People align themselves with Spirit Helpers all the time. I should be so lucky to have Power interested in me.”
Salamander could only stare at his cousin. “You don’t have the faintest idea what you are saying.”
Yellow Spider waved at the noxious blue smoke that curled around him and tapped his chest. “I’d ask for prestige, a beautiful wife, and long happy days filled with friends.”
Salamander smiled sadly. “Then Many Colored Crow should have gone to you instead of me. He has offered me those things.”
“So, why don’t you take them?”
“Because if I do, Masked Owl will probably drill a hole through me with a bolt of lighting.”
Yellow Spider squinted one eye. “You’re right. Choose Masked Owl instead.”
“If I do, all of this”—he gestured a big circle to include Sun Town—“will be gone by next summer solstice. Deep Hunter and Mud Stalker will turn the clans against each other, Cousin. Those of our people who are not killed outright will flee into the forests. The Dream that is Sun Town will die.”
“You’re right. Better that it’s only you who gets drilled by lightning.” Yellow Bird tried to make a joke of it but failed. “Sorry, Cousin.”
Salamander took a deep breath. “When you boil the fat off the alligator, what you have left is a choice between my souls and the greater good. I could go off and Dream the One, my souls in bliss. Or I could become the greatest leader our people has ever known. Whichever way I choose, it will be at another’s expense. Masked Owl said that if I choose Many Colored Crow’s way, uncounted people will end up as slaves. If I choose Masked Owl’s way, Many Colored Crow has shown me the destruction of our people.”
Yellow Spider parked himself on the unfinished gunwale upwind from the fire. He flicked his adze as he asked, “I don’t understand this. Why you?”