People of the Owl(75)

He could see the hardening in her eyes, the distrust mingled with suspicion that he knew something she didn’t. “What other way is there?”

If you tell her, if she accepts, you will be condemning her to death. The memory of the endless faces came back to haunt him, as if all those long-dead eyes were watching, waiting. Hatred stirred like a serpent in his breast.

She was expecting him to try and talk her out of it, so his answer caught her by surprise. “I don’t know if you are strong enough, dedicated enough. I have waited, planned, and hoped, but until now no one has impressed me with their dedication to our people. None of the other clans would have permitted it, not with the risk to their young woman.”

“What risk?”

“The risk entailed in truly harming our enemy. Oh, I don’t mean killing some stray fisherman, or some woman out digging for ground potatoes. I mean striking into the heart of one of their clans. Wounding their pride, soul, and spirit.”

“How would this be done?”

Is her life worth it? And even if she succeeds, will it make a difference in the end? He ignored her, allowing an expression of satisfaction to change the lines in his face as he imagined the consternation among the Sun People.

“Uncle?”

He drew a breath, letting her stew, then asked, “What was the name of the one who captured you?”

“White Bird.”

“Yes, of the Owl Clan. He has just been made Speaker. I’ve heard that that foul beast Mud Stalker has offered two of his clan’s women in marriage. Indeed, quite a name the young White Bird is making for himself.”

“How do you know that?” Anhinga was up on one elbow, watching him now, a dark gleam in her eyes.

“Traders passing along the White Mud River have talked to some of our people who were out casting nets. Word gets around, and White Bird, it seems, is the source of a great many words.” He smiled happily. “Owl Clan. He is the son of Elder Wing Heart. Quite a woman, that one. A most worthy adversary.”

“How would you strike her?”

“In a way she would never suspect. Through cunning, patience, and misdirection.” Yes, she had taken the bait the way a catfish snapped up a minnow.

“What would I have to do?”

“The hardest thing that any hunter must do, wait. Bide your time while opportunities pass before you. You would have to control your hatred, bury it deep like a coal in an ash pit. You would have to accept the man you hate the most, smile into his eyes, open your body to him. But, most difficult of all, you must earn his trust.” He slapped his hands on his thighs. “And, that, I fear, is beyond you. Injured though you are at this moment, I don’t know if you have the true dedication of the souls to really harm this White Bird and his clan.”

“Then you do not know me very well, Uncle.” She flashed him a defiant glance, hands knotted. “I Dream of seeing him bent down, in tears, blood running from wounds I have dealt him.”

“It’s a nice Dream.” He shrugged. “But if you succeeded, they would kill you—kill you in a most unpleasant way. For that reason, I can’t let you do this.”

“I am already dead.”

“Yes, for the moment. But if you stay here, I think you will heal in the end. Perhaps even smile again.”

She looked away. “You don’t know the things I saw.” She swallowed hard. “Souls don’t recover from that.”

“I know what you saw.” He shrugged. “I just don’t know if you really hate him enough to go through with it in the end.”

Her hand fastened on his arm, bruising in its intensity. “They took everything from me,” she hissed. “My brother, my friends, my future. They made me an exile among my own people. I hate, Uncle. Deep down between my souls, the burning is there. Upon my honor, upon my souls, I hate like no one you’ve ever known.”

“So you hate? Even the weak can hate. In the end it eats them like a liver fluke. From the inside. And ever so slowly.” A pause. “If you want to hurt them for what they did to you, it would take something more. Something I’m not sure you have within you.”

“What?”

“Strength.” He was watching her eyes, searching for any hint of dismay or fear when he said, “If you would truly hurt him, go back. Marry him, Anhinga. Be his wife, earn his trust. And then, when the time is right, you may kill him and his mother, too.”

Not even a flicker of doubt reflected when she said, “I can do that.”

“Are you sure? Do you understand what I’m asking? You must deceive a man you are living with day and night. You must trick him into believing that you love him. Have you any idea how difficult that is?”