People of the Owl(96)

Salamander swallowed hard. He never felt safe when they made these deposits. His Dreams, always uncertain to start with, were labored after he and the Serpent processed a body. That he involved himself in such doings irritated his wives to no end—perhaps explaining his willingness to help the Serpent with his grisly chores.

“Come, my friend.” The Serpent turned and led the way back into the forest. “We have finished this portion of our duty. All that remains is to help Clay Fat fire the house tonight. I shall have Bobcat do most of the Singing. I think he is ready for that.”

They walked in silence as they retraced their tracks. Breaking into the open again, the sight of the Bird’s Head to the north and the children playing on Dying Sun Mound to the south reassured Salamander.

“Mud Stalker came to see me last night,” the Serpent said offhandedly. “Knowing that Bobcat had been called to Ground Cherry Camp to attend a broken leg, he asked me to find another to help with the Elder’s body.”

Salamander shot him a glance. “He did?”

“It appears that some do not approve of your interest in acquiring the arts necessary to handle the dead.”

“That is not their concern.” Salamander swung the basket back and forth, slinging the loose gore from its stained bottom.

“You are not happy in your marriage,” the Serpent stated.

“You have divined this on your own, have you?”

“Do not mock me. You have been married now for almost three moons. And a Speaker for your clan for nearly as long. I can feel Power and trouble gathering around you.”

“Mud Stalker is disappointed with me. I haven’t always voted the way he would like. And Mother, I don’t understand. She mostly just stands there, eyes lost on the distance. I have caught her talking to Cloud Heron’s ghost when no one’s around.”

The Serpent sighed. “What about your Dreams?”

Salamander ground his teeth, then admitted, “They come sometimes. Many Colored Crow has come to me since the night of my initiation. Sometimes I fly with Masked Owl. He tells me things.”

“Such as?”

“He tells me to watch out for certain people. He gives me glimpses of faraway lands. Sometimes he warns me of things.”

“What things?”

Salamander shook his head. “I’m sorry, Elder. They are between Masked Owl and me.”

Carefully, the Serpent said, “You are aware that Mud Stalker and your wives are plotting?”

“Oh, yes. Though why they insisted that I marry is beyond me. And why, for the sake of Snakes, did they appoint me to the Council? I just sit there. I’m an embarrassment. Look at me! But for the political necessity, I wouldn’t be made a man yet. Who ever heard of a boy like me sitting in the Council?”

The Serpent slowed as he reached the deep borrow pit. With care he stepped over the edge. The slope was steep, but a narrow trail had been worn through the thick green grass and into the brown earth. A misstep meant a nasty tumble through the weeds and grass and into the stagnant water below. Salamander started as a snake slithered rapidly away. He could see the plants moving as the reptile wound along the slope. Wood snake? Or water moccasin?

At the bottom, the Serpent crouched on a thin strip of beach and splashed his hands into the water. Cleansing had to be done on the western side of Sun Town, every bit of blood, liquid, and tissue washed away. The borrow pit pond was the perfect place for these ablutions. With great care, the Serpent washed his hands, taking time to pick the dried blood from under his fingernails. “Bide your time, Salamander. You are meant to be a joke. It is the revenge Mud Stalker has planned for your mother and clan.”

“It humiliates me,” Salamander agreed as he stepped to one side and perched on the steep slope. He bent forward and dunked the basket into the water, seeing minnows, tadpoles, and insects swimming away. He sloshed it back and forth before hauling it out, ripping a handful of grass free and scrubbing the insides to remove the stains.

“And what does a salamander do when a raccoon is snorting and sniffing around a fallen log? Does he run out immediately in search of insects?”

“Of course not.”

“There is a lesson in that.” The Serpent rubbed at a blood spot on his forearm and looked up pointedly. “Do you know what it is?”

“I didn’t want to be a member of the Council.” Salamander tipped the basket to dump the red-stained water out. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Sometimes the best people are those who didn’t ask for the responsibility.”

“Sometimes they aren’t.”

“Power chose you, Salamander. At each important event, it has settled around you like a blanket. Just as it did atop the Bird’s Head and at your initiation.” He paused, looking down at his hands again, inspecting them to make sure they were clean. “I won’t be around to help you much longer.”