Pitch let out a weary breath, as though preparing himself. “What is it you wish to know?”
“Did anyone see this man who calls himself ‘Coyote?’”
“Coyote?” Evening Star started, turning her eyes toward Pitch.
Rain Bear turned to her. “Do you know him?”
“I know of him. Even Kenada talked about him in whispers. The word is he’s some sort of sorcerer or witch. That Cimmis has had dealings with him, but only on moonless nights, and outside the palisade. The rumor is that even Cimmis has never seen his face. I can’t be certain if he actually exists, or if he’s a story.”
Pitch said, “He tried to buy Dzoo’s life from Antler Spoon and Broken Sun.”
Evening Star considered that, her expression thoughtful. “Did anyone see him?”
“Dzoo said she watched him for some time.”
“Dzoo actually saw him?” Evening Star mused thoughtfully.
Rain Bear forced himself to look at Pitch instead of Evening Star. He was acutely aware that Roe was watching him, a frown on her forehead. He made himself say, “For some time? What does that mean?”
Pitch weakly shook his head. “She told me he smelled like the moss that grows at the base of the lava cliff above Fire Village.”
Rain Bear frowned. “Dzoo was that close and let him live? What did she say he looked like?”
“Tall, broad of shoulder, and he wears an ancient coyote mask. Something on his chest catches the light, perhaps a fluted spear point, or shell decoration. No one knows.”
Rain Bear peered at the fire. Struggling yellow tongues of flame licked around the wood. He needed all of his concentration, but he remained achingly aware of Evening Star beside him. He could just catch her faint scent, a sweet musk that teased him. “Was he dressed like one of the Wolf Tails?”
Pitch tried to shrug and winced. “The … the Wolf Tails don’t wear masks, do they?”
Evening Star noted, “The most adept assassins wear masks. It is a sign of their status. Kenada reputedly kept a badger mask in a cedar box in his lodge.”
Rain Bear’s right hand involuntarily clenched into a fist, as though tightening around the handle of his war club. “Pitch, you said you thought Dzoo knew the man. Recognized him?”
“I think so.”
“But she didn’t mention a name?”
He shook his head.
Rain Bear pulled the bag of obsidian fetishes from his belt pouch. They clicked together. “Matron, Coyote offered these in exchange for Dzoo.” He poured them out into his palm, where they glittered in the firelight. “Have you ever seen anything like them? Who makes fetishes like this?”
“Blessed gods,” Evening Star whispered. When she reached out to touch them, her fingers brushed Rain Bear’s palm, and a tingle went through him. “They’re exquisite. I don’t know anyone in the North Wind villages who has the skill to knap these. And believe me, if he existed, I would know of him. Every clan elder would be vying for his work.”
Rain Bear poured them back into the bag and tossed it onto the hides at Pitch’s feet. “Why does he want Dzoo? To force her to do his bidding? Is it something she owns?”
Evening Star shook her head. “If he wanted any of her belongings, he could just kill her, search her body, and take whatever he wished. It sounds like he ordered his warriors to take her alive.”
Roe added another branch to the fire, and sparks flitted and crackled as the wood caught. As she sank back onto the hides at Pitch’s side, she said, “Perhaps he just wants her, Father.” She glanced curiously at Evening Star, sitting so close to him. Gods, was it that obvious?
Evening Star, however, seemed oblivious; she smoothed her hand over Stonecrop’s fine black hair. The little boy smiled in his sleep. “Coyote would not be the first man to desperately want a woman. Especially a woman of Dzoo’s beauty and reputation.”
Rain Bear muttered in assent. Faces appeared and disappeared on the fabric of his souls, men he had known who would have killed to possess the woman of their dreams. Some of them had indeed killed—or been killed—in that pursuit.
Rain Bear added, “A man desires most that which he has touched.”
Pitch’s expression made it look as if the very act of breathing hurt. He squeezed his eyes closed for a few instants. “Coyote went to Broken Sun and ordered him to turn Dzoo over, but chief Antler Spoon was too afraid to go through with it.”
“That’s why he gave Coyote the sick woman who resembled Dzoo?”
“Dear gods,” Evening Star whispered. “Was he mad? Didn’t he realize Coyote would find out he’d been tricked?”