People of the Owl(227)

“Sick, Speaker.”

Mud Stalker blinked, trying to absorb the information. “What do you mean, sick?”

Water Stinger looked truly mystified. “They were fine until a half hand of time ago. Then, all of a sudden, Night Rain threw up. A moment later, so did Pine Drop. I put them in their beds, but they are not well. Their eyes are all wrong, their pupils have grown large. The worst thing is, Speaker, they are delirious, talking to people who are not there.”

“What?”

“I think it is some kind of fever, but their bodies are not hot, and they aren’t sweating. It’s just the opposite. They feel cool to the touch, breathing slowly. You would think they were more corpses than alive.”

“Attention! Your attention, please! I think we are all here,” Thunder Tail called as he stepped out into the open by the smoldering central fire. “This Council has been called to deal with a most serious matter.”

Mud Stalker pushed Water Stinger away in irritation, trying to recapture the string of his thoughts. “We’ll have to do without them. Go, Cousin. Be ready for my signal.” He stepped forward, waiting to be acknowledged by the Leader.

Thunder Tail raised his voice, trying to be heard by as many as possible. “It has been alleged by some that Speaker Salamander of Owl Clan has been involved in witchcraft, his spells and attacks having been leveled against not only his own relatives, but others as well.”

A ripple of conversation rolled through the crowd. Mud Stalker tried to keep the smile of satisfaction from his lips.

“That is not the only charge.” Thunder Tail looked from face to face around the Council. “Speaker Salamander’s third wife, the woman known as Anhinga, is believed to have murdered a young man named Eats Wood, a member of the Snapping Turtle Clan.”

Another eruption of conversation followed.

“These are serious charges!” Thunder Tail gave Mud Stalker a hard stare. “Who makes these charges?”

Mud Stalker and Sweet Root stepped forward, crying in unison, “We do!”

Deep Hunter also stepped out, not to be left behind, and cried, “Alligator Clan makes these charges.”

“As does Frog Clan!” Cane Frog’s reedy voice barely carried across the circle.

To everyone but Mud Stalker’s surprise, Moccasin Leaf strode out, and cried, “So does Owl Clan!”

All eyes turned to Clay Fat, who stood uncomfortably and stepped out from under the palmetto-and-cane roofing to squint in the sun. “Rattlesnake Clan is unsure. We would hear the evidence.”

Mud Stalker had been hoping for just that request. He raised his hand high over his head, the signal to Water Stinger. “Snapping Turtle Clan will address the murder of our young warrior first.” Give them a brutally murdered corpse to start with, and the less substantive charges would follow of their own accord.

A buzz of voices and a stirring of the crowd preceded the six strong young men who came forward at a trot. Between them they bore Eats Wood’s mud-caked canoe. Red Finger came striding along behind, a cardinal-feather cloak over one shoulder, his creamy white breechcloth swinging with each step. Sunlight glistened on his gray hair.

The canoe was borne through the eastern entrance and laid carefully on the ground at Mud Stalker’s feet.

Mud Stalker glanced around the Council. “I would have this Council recognize my cousin, Red Finger. It was he who found Eats Wood’s canoe.”

As Red Finger recounted his story about the pesky crow, Mud Stalker’s souls delighted at the expressions he saw in the audience. People were truly captivated and awed.

Red Finger finished and produced the little round white stone. He held it between thumb and forefinger as he turned so that all could see it.

Mud Stalker cried, “What are we to learn from this? Power wanted Eats Wood’s murderer found!”

He glared hard at Salamander, expecting to see some reaction: embarrassment, guilt, confusion, something. The young Speaker just stood as if listening to a discussion of the weather.

Mud Stalker gestured with his left hand. “When my kinsmen returned with the canoe and Eats Wood’s bones, we were at a loss. Why would this have happened? Who would have hidden his canoe and his body in the Swamp Panther lands? Why there?” He turned his head, directing everyone with his hard stare.

Salamander waited with his head cocked, paying attention, but unconcerned.

“Following the trail to its logical end,” Mud Stalker continued as he stepped carefully back and forth behind the canoe, “we sent my niece, Night Rain, to obtain the Swamp Panther woman’s ax.”

He bent down and picked it up from the bones within the canoe.