“Where?” Sumac asked.
Nighthawk waved a hand. “It started at Sleeping Thunder Village, but I think the Spirits have flown all the way to Daughter’s Birth Village by now.”
Sumac exchanged a horrified look with Oxbalm. The illness was moving very fast to have traveled through six villages in a week. It was frightening. “Were you there, Nighthawk? Did you see what was happening?”
“Not me.” Nighthawk shook his head. “I never travel to
sick villages. I knew a Trader once who was killed, yes,
killed, because people believed he was possessed by the Evil Spirits of the diseases. You know, they thought he was carrying the Spirits from one village to the next. I’m a new Trader. I can’t take such chances.”
Oxbalm adjusted the calf hide over his shoulders, twining his fingers in the long hair and tugging it up to shield his right ear from the cold bite of the fog. “That must be why Sunchaser isn’t here. Have you heard anything about him? Is he still in the mountains?”
“Still at Brushnut, I think.”
“He’s been there for a long time, then.”
“Yes.” Nighthawk nodded. His beaked nose caught the gleam of the fire when he peered directly at Oxbalm. Grease smeared his mouth. “The news, from Brushnut is very bad. Someone told me that dozens had died.”
“Dozens?” Sumac’s shrunken old lips quivered. “Are you sure? So many?” Nighthawk sank his teeth into the last of his meat and chewed it noisily. “That’s the story traveling the trading trails.”
Oxbalm squeezed Sumac’s hand. She had relatives in Brushnut Village. Second cousins, whom she loved. “I’m sure they’re all right,” he said reassuringly. “When Horse weed and Balsam return, they’ll bring news. Don’t worry.”
“Someone would have sent a runner if… if anything bad had happened to my cousins.” As though in defense against the worry, Sumac shook her head. “I can’t stand to think about it. It hurts too much. What other news is there, Nighthawk?”
“Well, there’s always raiding. The Ugly Sloth Clan and the Red Dog Moon Clan are still stealing each other’s women and burning each other’s villages.”
“That’s not news. They never stop raiding each other. I think they do it just for fun,” Sumac said. “What else is happening?” Nighthawk lifted his chin and peered sightlessly into the
fog, as though deciding which story to relate. “Here’s something interesting. The story comes from the far eastern villages out in the marsh country. It’s said that there’s a very bad woman coming our way. She committed incest, and her husband is chasing her.”
“How do you know she’s coming our way?” “Her husband is the Trader Lambkill—have you ever met him?” When Oxbalm and Sumac shook their heads in unison, Nighthawk shrugged. “He’s a very great Trader, but he travels mostly to the north and east of here. Anyway, this Lambkill has been telling his story at every village he passes, hoping someone will send word back to him that his wicked wife has been seen. Her trail leads due west.”
“So she may or may not be coming to the coast,” Oxbalm said. “Who knows?”
“She may not,” Nighthawk agreed. “But if you see her, grab hold of her and don’t let go.”
“Why? What would we want with a woman who committed incest?” That was the last thing Oxbalm needed in Otter Clan Village. He already had Catchstraw to draw the wrath of every adjacent village; he didn’t want another nuisance.
“That husband of hers,” Nighthawk said and slapped a greasy hand on his knee while he laughed, “he’s as mad as a hornet. He’s offering a fortune in trade goods to the person who captures his wife and turns her over to him.”
“What’s her name?” Sumac asked.
Nighthawk pondered, then shook his head. “I don’t recall. She had a bird name. You know, like Falcon, or Eagle or … ah, wait. I remember. It was Kestrel. She’s from the Bear-Looks-Back Clan.”
“Kestrel…” Sumac repeated, as though memorizing the name.
“Well,” Oxbalm said firmly, “she’ll find no one to shield her here. The Otter Clan doesn’t put up with such things. Incest is a grave crime.” Nighthawk chuckled. “Yes, she’s going to have a hard
time finding a refuge. Of course she’ll probably change her name.”
“Then how will we know her?”
“She’s supposed to be pregnant. But she may have had the baby by now.”
“A newborn?” Sumac asked. The wrinkles of her face rearranged themselves into tender lines. “Well, in that case, Oxbalm will offer her shelter for a time. For the baby’s sake. It’s very cold still, and hard to find food.”