“Hope should never be given up completely,” White Bird told her evenly. “In my case, I must apologize for making so many people worry. Events, however, dictated that I go farther than I had planned, and once there, that I dedicate myself to the Trade through the winter. But I assure you I longed for home. In fact, I have some special gifts that I have picked out, just for Elder Cane Frog.”
“We are obliged to you,” Cane Frog rasped. “Your return was propitious, young White Bird. Indeed, most propitious. But then, luck has always favored your clan, hasn’t it? You know, it was just a couple of days ago that we were talking—”
“Mother”—Three Moss took the old woman’s arm—“come, we can’t monopolize White Bird. Others wish to welcome him home. There is still Yellow Spider to see and the barbarians to welcome.”
“Yellow Spider? Who is he?” White Bird heard the old woman ask, as Three Moss led her away.
“Brother to Water Petal, of the Owl Clan,” Three Moss was hissing as Speaker Deep Hunter led Elder Colored Paint to White Bird.
Deep Hunter, Speaker for the Alligator Clan, was watching Cane Frog as Three Moss stopped her in front of Yellow Spider. He had a curious smile on his lips. By the time he turned to White Bird his expression had grown thoughtful. “So, you are well and healthy. Welcome home, White Bird. After so many declared you dead, it is a joy to know that your souls are safe and returned to those who love and cherish you.”
“Thank you for your kind greeting. I regret that I worried so many, Speaker.”
“Oh, fear not. It does them good every once in a while to be proven wrong.”
“Who, Speaker?”
“The ones who come to think that they know how the world works … and that they are the smart ones. It is always such a shock when they find out that they are not as cunning as they thought. It is healthy to be reminded that people, things, or events can come from unexpected quarters to disrupt everything and throw the simplest of plans into confusion.” Deep Hunter’s thoughtful black eyes were taking White Bird’s measure. His long face always had a sad look, but Deep Hunter was never a known quantity. “Stew, as you no doubt know, is tastier when it is stirred every so often.”
“I hear the wisdom in your words, Speaker.”
“Do you?”
To change the subject, White Bird reached out to take Colored Paint’s hand. “Greetings, Elder. I have brought you some special gifts from upriver. You filled my thoughts throughout the winter. So much so, that it gives my souls great joy to see you again.”
“It was cold, your winter up north?” Colored Paint asked, her glinting brown eyes on White Bird.
“Yes, Elder.”
“I spent a winter up north, you know. Poison and snakes, but that was a long time ago. How many winters? Three tens? Three tens and three? I can’t recall. But cold? I tell you, I thought my bones would crack. You don’t know the value of a good hot fire until you’ve been that cold.”
“I agree, Elder.”
“We not only come to welcome you,” Deep Hunter interrupted, “but to offer our respects over your uncle’s death.” The enigmatic smile remained on his thin lips as he asked, “There is talk that Owl Clan will have a very young Speaker. Have you given that any thought?”
White Bird kept his expression blank. “I have been in seclusion, Speaker. My first responsibility was to the purification of my souls and body. I have no hint as to what my clan might be considering.”
Deep Hunter nodded absently.
What was he hiding? White Bird’s souls tingled with warning. It was one thing to deal with Mud Stalker. He had always been an enemy, but what motivated Deep Hunter?
The Speaker smiled easily. “Come and see us when you have a chance. After that winter up north the Elder will have a warm fire for you, and I shall make sure our stew has been adequately stirred. We will have a great many things to talk about.”
“Thank you, Speaker. And you, Elder Colored Paint, have a pleasant day.”
“Going back to the fire,” Colored Paint muttered. “Just talking about it has made my bones shiver. A bit of winter lingers inside me. I think it was because I got so cold upriver that time. Hope it doesn’t bother you the way it does me.”
“I hope not, too, Elder.”
Deep Hunter added: “Give your mother my greeting. Send her my respects concerning your uncle. Tell her that we need to speak. Soon.” He led Colored Paint down the line to Yellow Spider.
White Bird glanced uneasily at the growing crowd. He wished he could just press his way through them and sprint up the slope to the plaza. From there he could run full tilt north to his mother’s house on the first ridge and learn the news.