People of the Owl(57)
“No.” Yellow Spider rubbed his callused palms together. “He knew people, that’s all. Knew their souls. When my punishment was over he treated me as if nothing had ever happened between us. He never even mentioned the event again, and he was most enthusiastic when White Bird suggested that I might go upriver with him.”
“Was he much like White Bird?” Gray Fox was watching the increasing numbers of people who walked toward them across the plaza.
“They were much the same,” Yellow Spider admitted. “Like White Bird, the Speaker was smart, friendly, and forever thinking two or three steps ahead. Seeing them together you could almost think them twins. That is why so many people are coming to honor his passing. Even the other clans respected the Speaker. He had a way about him.”
“And what is the Serpent doing?” Hazel Fire pointed to where he was still casting droplets of black drink from his fingertips.
“That is to feed the soul of the house and the Speaker’s Dream Soul. By doing so, it reminds them both that while the site must be cleansed by fire, the People bear them nothing but goodwill. Think of it like this: When people live inside a house they become part of that place. The light is bad, this being sunset, but you can look into the doorway. There, see on the pile of wood? Those are the Speaker’s bones. His Dream Soul is hovering there, attached to them.”
Hazel Fire swallowed hard, stepping back as if to distance himself from the dead spirit.
“No, don’t fear,” Yellow Spider said with a chuckle as he reached back and pulled the Wolf Trader forward. “The Speaker was a good and wise man. A person’s soul doesn’t change just because of death. At least, not unless something terrible was done to kill him. Only then does a soul turn vengeful, just as the living would.”
“Why burn his bones?” Gray Fox’s brow had lined with worry as he stared uneasily at the low doorway. “Why not bury them as my people do?”
“Fire cleanses,” Yellow Spider reminded. “Any evils or bad thoughts that might have gathered at this place will be destroyed or driven off.” He pointed to the gaps that separated the sections of concentric ridges. “When the fire starts, any evil that is trapped here can escape out through the gaps. If you walked to the outer ring, you would see that the line of ash has been parted to let any malevolent spirits out. They will flee toward the setting sun, drawn inexorably to the west.”
“What happened to his flesh?” Hazel Fire shifted uncomfortably. “Those bones look pretty well cleaned off. He didn’t die that long ago. Not long enough to have decomposed like that.”
“The Serpent’s apprentice, Bobcat, stripped the meat from his bones,” Yellow Spider said. “That has to be done soon after death, before the flesh has a chance to draw evil to it. You know what happens to a body after death. Corruption is drawn to it just like ants to fruit nectar. Corruption and the forces that lead to festering are ravenous, forever driven by a fierce and consuming hunger. Since we can’t drive them away, it’s better simply to take the flesh and carry it outside of Sun Town. Each clan has a place where it leaves corruption and rot. Those locations we mark and no one, unless they, too, are filled with evil, would go there.” Yellow Spider shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe as the years pass we’ll concentrate so much evil outside the powerful rings of Sun Town that the world will be a better place. Even as far away as your own villages.”
“And your Speaker’s Dream Soul?” Hazel Fire asked.
“Because of the black drink and the Serpent’s requests to his soul, it will stay here, within the safe confines of Sun Town.”
“You mean you try to keep his ghost here?” Gray Fox was looking increasingly nervous.
Yellow Spider cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t we? Just because the Speaker is dead doesn’t mean he isn’t still part of the clan. Part of what our earthworks do is keep the spirits of our dead within. This way they can whisper to our Dream Souls at night when we’re sleeping.”
“I’ll never let myself Dream again while I’m sleeping here.” Gray Fox touched his breast as if for reassurance.
“I think they speak their own language,” Hazel Fire muttered. “At least no ghost has talked to me in my dreams in any language but my own.”
Yellow Spider turned his attention to Wing Heart as she stepped to the house, calling, “Brother, hear me. We are cleansing this place now. Thank you for all that you have done for our lineage, our clan, and our people. Stay with us, help us, fight for us from the Land of the Dead. Whisper your wise counsel when we are in need, and intercede on our behalf with the forces of light and darkness. Be well, my brother, for we shall meet your Dream Soul when our earthly bodies fail us.”