People of the Owl(40)

“We do, Great Serpent.”

“Then enter this place and be welcome, White Bird and Yellow Spider of the Owl Clan of the Northern Moiety. And enter this place, you Traders of the Wolf People, and be welcome.”

“Is that finally it?” Hazel Fire muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“It is, my friend.” Yellow Spider answered in the Trader’s tongue. “Now come and be dazzled by the greatest city on Earth.”

Together they started forward, but the first to break free from the crowd was Spring Cypress. She shot down the bank on bare feet, hair streaming behind her in a dark wave. She threw herself into White Bird’s arms, hugging him desperately.

“White Bird! I’ve missed you so!”

He clasped her to him, feeling her round breasts against his chest, enjoying the sensation of her damp skin against his. She was taller and fuller of body than he remembered. After a winter of experience he could feel the promise in her woman’s body. Taut and firm, she conformed to him. Her damp hair smelled of dogwood blossoms. From somewhere hidden in the back of his souls Lark’s face flashed, the image unsettling. He pushed it away and clasped Spring Cypress for a moment longer, then stepped back to look at her.

Snakes, she was beautiful, her heart-shaped face dominated by large dark eyes and a slightly upturned nose. She looked so delicate, and her souls were mirrored in her gaze; that longing and excitement was for him. For a moment he struggled with the desperate urge to lift her up and twirl her away from the watching crowd. What a shame that once again he had to be the man his mother demanded of him.

“Where is my mother? I would have thought the Clan Elder would be here to greet me. Is she detained?” he asked, matching her smile with his own.

In that instant Spring Cypress’s eyes dropped, her smile fading. “I am sorry, White Bird. Your uncle. Last night.”

“Is he …?” He couldn’t make himself say the inevitable words.

She nodded. “I just found out. I heard Moccasin Leaf telling the Serpent. Cloud Heron has been sick for so long. It wasn’t unexpected.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling as he controlled his expression. “I wished to see him one last time.” A pang of loss began to grow in his chest. “I had so much to tell him. So many things to ask about.”

“What is it?” Yellow Spider asked, disentangling himself from some of his friends. They had charged down the slope ahead of Yellow Spider’s sister, Water Petal.

“My uncle,” White Bird said. “Last night.”

Yellow Spider flinched. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What happened to him?” Hazel Fire asked, nervous eyes on the crowd that surged down toward them.

“Dead.” The word sounded flat in White Bird’s throat.

“He’s the one you are named after?”

White Bird nodded. Then he forced himself to meet the oncoming crowd. The Serpent, he noticed, had already turned to leave, plodding up the slope on his stick-thin legs. No doubt he was wanted at Mother’s. It was his duty to begin the rituals to strip the body of flesh and cleanse the house site.

“Greetings, White Bird.” Gnarly old Mud Stalker strode purposefully down and extended his good left hand. His hard brown eyes took in every nuance of White Bird’s expression. “It seems we have a day of joy and sorrow, all mixed together.”

How did he take that? What is his real meaning? “Indeed, Mud Stalker”—White Bird gave the man a facile smile—“it is always a joy to see you. Or were you thinking of something else?”

“I was referring first to your return, and second to the news about Cloud Heron. He was most adept.”

He was … especially when it came to thwarting you and your clan. “He will be mourned by all.”

“At least the alligators didn’t get you, White Bird.”

“Well, we can’t always depend on alligators, can we?” He avoided glancing at the man’s mangled right arm. “I have brought a great many gifts for your clan, Speaker. I thought of you constantly while I was upcountry.”

“I shall look forward to hearing your tales,” Mud Stalker said, touching his forehead in deference. “But I am taking up too much of your time, what with the death and all the responsibilities that now fall on your shoulders.” He kept his eyes locked on White Bird’s. “My deepest sympathies. If I can be of any service, or if I can advise you on any subject, do call on me.” He walked on to greet Yellow Spider.

Clay Fat came next, a jolly smile on his face as he clapped White Bird on the back. Rainwater traced rounded paths over his belly and dripped from his knob of a navel. “Glad to have you home, young man. And even happier to see that welcome you gave Spring Cypress.” He winked, the action contorting his round face. But behind it, White Bird could sense the man’s nervous tension. “I think she’s going to be declared a woman soon!”