People of the Owl(219)
She caught the odor of fish as she walked up to him and helped him to lower a full basket to the ground. “What has been done with them?”
“We gutted them. They need to be smoked and dried. I don’t know how long they will last, especially given the number of people who have come for the ceremonials.”
“Husband, most of them arrived in canoes gunwale full of food. I’ve never seen so much to eat, or so many mouths to feed.”
He bent over to hug her, and she felt the trembling in his muscles. When she wrapped her arms around him, it surprised her to find his body hot from exertion. She pressed him to her and sighed. “You feel good, Husband.”
“So do you. I could keep you like this for days.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, but it will make attending the solstice activities a bit awkward. People will point at us and talk.”
“They talk anyway. Look! There goes Speaker Salamander and his barbarian wife. We are already the center of attention. You should have been here today.”
“How is our daughter?”
“Fine. She slept, ate, and messed, and slept and ate and messed, all day long. I made three trips for firewood, figuring that as things get busy we won’t have much time. It’s a long way to go, and believe me, everything close has already been scavenged for the fires. Even the big trees that fell last winter are being chopped up.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Poor man, you would have to make do with only two wives!”
He chuckled at that and patted her shoulders as she broke away. She strained to lift the basket of fish and waddled to the ramada. Throwing more wood on the fire, she started laying the fish out on the split-cane matting.
“What’s cooking?” Salamander indicated the two earth ovens.
“Lotus root,” she lied heartily. “What would people say if the Owl Clan Speaker ate anything else for the solstice?”
“They’d say that he was deranged.” He lifted his arms, smiling in the firelight. “But they say that anyway.”
“As I started to tell you, a stream of people have been here. They come in bits and dribbles, wanting to speak to you. Most of them want to get a look at me, to see the famous barbarian wife. Others want to see you, to see if it’s true that the clan has such a young Speaker.” She made a face. “And many come to see your mother. Mostly the older ones, the ones who knew her when she and Cloud Heron were laying the opposition low. They look, shake their heads, and drift off to Moccasin Leaf’s to discuss marriages, bickering between the lineages, and grievances with other clans.” She pointed to the glow of a huge bonfire two ridges away. “Half Thorn is busy strutting back and forth like a mating pigeon. You could go look; he has all of his feathers preened.”
“I’ll pass,” he muttered, a heaviness in his voice.
She watched him from the corner of her eye. “What is wrong, Salamander?”
“I want you to promise me something.”
“Of course.”
“If things begin to go badly, I want you to dress in Owl Clan clothing. Something Mother made, and take our daughter. I want you to get into a canoe and paddle south to your family.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your safety. It is summer solstice. Canoes full of strangers are everywhere. If you’re dressed as Owl Clan, no one will notice. You are just one of many. By the time you are in Swamp Panther country, you’ll be safe.”
She cocked her head. “What do you know, Husband?”
“I know that you are in great danger.” Pain reflected in his smile. “I’ve done a terrible thing, Anhinga.”
“What?” she asked, her gaze darting to the earth oven where the water-hemlock root roasted in a bedding of yellow lotus.
“I’ve been selfish. Kept you and my little girl here with me. I knew better. I should have sent you south during the past moon.”
“You’re being silly,” she answered uncertainly. “We’re a family, remember? We decided that night after the affair with Night Rain and Saw Back.”
“He’s yet another worry. You must leave in secret,” Salamander warned. “And make three times sure that no one sees you leave, especially Saw Back. You, of all people, know how dangerous he can be. This time, I won’t be there to save you.”
She stopped short, the cold carcass of a bass in her hands. “What do you mean? Tell me, Husband. What do you know? What has Masked Owl told you?” She felt her heart skip with fear, and not over the poisoned roots she was cooking.