Is it her?
The shadow wavered, as if blown by the wind, then continued across the roof until it slipped into the black edges of night.
Is that you, Dzoo?
Fear and excitement tickled his belly.
It was said that she could point at a star, and it would fall to earth in a streak of fire. She had reddish brown hair and the perfect body of a Sea Spirit.
His gaze caressed the cave for a time; then he forced himself to step out and follow the snowy trail toward the rendezvous. If the terms of his bargain had been met, Dzoo would be his tonight.
If I can just see her …
He needed to see her. Sometimes the need was overwhelming. It became an ache so desperate he thought it would cause his very bones to splinter. As a youth he had been a trader. Though he had heard of her childhood capture, he had been unprepared for her Power and beauty. Then, one day, he’d met her in Pearl Oyster’s camp, stared into her eyes, and lost his soul to her. He had watched her from afar after that, kindling even more need. In desperation he had gone to an ancient Soul Flier—a man of great renown among the Striped Dart People—and honed the skills of Power and obsession. Then, when he had come down from the mountains, it was to find her vanished. The people said that she had returned to the coast, to her home. So he had come, searching, until he found her. Through careful planning, he had placed himself where he could finally have her for his own.
Once, he’d been close enough to breathe in her fragrance and touch her hair. But the path to greatness—as his mentor had taught so diligently—was not to be wasted by an idle move or lack of discipline. He was Coyote. Cunning, Powerful, and patient.
He balled his fists and shoved them beneath his woven sea-grass cape.
Until recently, Dzoo’s husband, Pearl Oyster, had guarded her like an old wolf. He’d never left her alone. No matter where she went, he was standing there with his weapons, eternally vigilant. The man’s cool eyes took the measure of anyone who came near her.
Of all Coyote’s challenges, killing Pearl Oyster had been the most difficult. From the protection of the Mossy Cave, he had thrown attack after attack at the stern warrior’s soul. Then news of Pearl Oyster’s death had spread like wildfire across the land, and Coyote had known.
It was his turn.
The snowy trail through the trees ended in a small meadow ten tens of body lengths from the village. The gleam of the Star People and the near-full moon silvered the snow and played in the fir needles.
He wiped his clammy palms on his cape and drew an intricately engraved deer-bone stiletto from his belt. As he knelt behind a boulder, he heard the faintest of scuffing sounds and willed himself to become one with the stone. It might just be an animal. An owl or—
A foot crunched the wet snow.
Only Coyote’s eyes moved.
In the firs, much closer than he’d have thought possible, a man rose and whispered in an accented voice, “Coyote? Is that you? I’ve brought her.”
His gaze surveyed the dark shapes of the forest, searching for any hidden threats. “Show me.”
“She’s over here. Come and see.” The man braced his feet and clenched his fists at his sides, as though expecting a fight. “I dragged her here just moments ago.”
The newcomer had seen perhaps three tens and five summers, but he had a wrinkled face and silver-streaked black hair. His moon-washed expression tightened in fear as Coyote walked toward him.
“You dragged her out here by yourself?”
“No one must know what I do.” The accent of the Cougar People made him almost unintelligible.
The idea of gazing into Dzoo’s eyes again sent a tingle through Coyote. It was like looking into an endless black abyss—only to have the abyss look back. She stirred something deep in his soul, something that had brought him here, to this place—the end of a long and arduous journey.
She lay on her side on a black-and-red painted hide. A tangle of long hair obscured most of her face.
But it did look like her.
He tried to keep his voice from trembling. Cold shakes were running through his hands and fingers. “This is Dzoo?”
“Would I cheat you after what you promised to do to my family if I failed?”
Coyote willed control into his muscles. His need was a soul hunger that nibbled and sucked at his bones and nerves. “What did you give her to make her soul fly?”
“A small sip of nightshade, Coyote—just enough to make her sleep.”
“Nightshade! You gave Dzoo poison?”
The man reached out pleadingly. “How else could I bring her to you? I had no choice! Her Powers are very great!”
Coyote thrust his hand into his belt pouch, pulled out the bag, and threw it at the old man. As the old man caught the small bladder sack, the delicate tinkle of glassy stone could be heard. “With those precious objects, Broken Sun, you could buy an entire village.” For all the good they will do you in the end, old man.