People of the Weeping Eye(99)

“You underestimate our husband’s ability to destroy himself.”

“Underestimate Smoke Shield? Not for a heartbeat.” She remembered how he’d managed to marry her. He might have taken a scar for it, but over the years she had wondered if he hadn’t planned it from the beginning. What Smoke Shield envied—no matter what hurdles stood in his path—he always found a way to obtain. “For the time being, he will be occupied with his new bed toy. His women are like copper. After a while he will grow tired of shining it. This one, too, will eventually corrode. Morning Dew doesn’t know it yet, but all she needs to do is endure for a couple of moons. After another woman catches his eye, he will no longer call her to his bed.”

She glanced over her shoulder. In the half-moon’s light, she could see Thin Branch a stone’s throw behind them. The men dragging the slave were making hard work of it. “From the looks of her, she’s half-dead, or her souls have fled. We both know he doesn’t like a limp woman under him.”

“That’s his problem. Ours is to make her presentable. And fix her dress? Did you see what she’s wearing?”

“I looked at her when she was tied to the pole. She must have been a vain one, to wear a dress like that just to be captured in.”

“We’ll need drilled pearls.”

Heron Wing considered the problem. “Singing Moon has some. She’s admired my quill cape often enough that I think she’ll trade.”

“That’s a beautiful cape.”

“What do I care? It was a gift from Smoke Shield.”

They walked in silence for a while. Then Violet Bead asked, “You still think of him, don’t you?”

“Who? Smoke Shield? He’s hard to forget.”

“I mean his brother.”

Heron Wing shot a glance at Violet Bead. “What on earth could have made you bring that up?”

“I suppose it’s this new woman. Just another in a long line. Don’t you wonder what would have happened if Smoke Shield hadn’t told that lie? Or if Green Snake’s hand had been a little steadier that day?”

Of course she did. For years she’d brooded over it. “It’s all gone, Sister. Long gone. But if Smoke Shield hadn’t lied, he wouldn’t be the scheming Smoke Shield we both know.” She shook her head. “Sometimes the world turns on a decision. Just a word, or a gesture, and from then on, everything is different. Perhaps only a single person’s life changes; or it can lead to the rise and fall of nations. That is the realm of Power, of the balance of harmony.”

“So, after all that, just why did you marry Smoke Shield?”

“Because I didn’t know what happened that day. It was only later that he told me. He was in one of his rages.” The words came back to haunt her. “You know why he did this to me?” Smoke Shield had pointed to the ugly scar on the side of his face. “It was because I told him I’d lain with you. I taunted him—my precious, perfect brother. And he did this!”

To Violet Bead she said, “He lied. And after Green Snake left, no one would speak the reason of it. By then it was too late to matter anyway.” She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. What is past cannot be changed.”

They walked along in silence again. Violet Bead, however, wouldn’t let it drop. “But he could still be alive.” She gestured to the darkness. “Out there, somewhere. Perhaps still thinking of you.”

“I said let it go. We are done speaking of this.”

“Forgive me.”

Heron Wing relented at the tone in Violet Bead’s voice. “No, it’s all right. And yes, I do wonder sometimes. Mostly when I’m alone. But wherever he went, he has never sent word. If he still lives, I hope he’s happy. And now, that is the last word I’ll speak.”

She wondered why she’d even let her guard down that much. Curiosity overcame her. “Why did you even ask?”

“Because, Sister”—Violet Bead used the honorific between wives—“I know that you still love him.”

“And what does that matter to you?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Because at least you can still love.”

They had reached her house. Inside, a low fire was burning, the scent of wood smoke on the air. Wide Leaf, her Koasati slave, hunched over the fire. She had propped the food-encrusted ceramic pots from the feast so the flames would burn the contents out of the vessels. The old woman had worked most of the day, cooking for the victory feast.

“Wide Leaf,” Heron Wing called as the older woman looked up. “We have orders from our husband. We need warm water, soap, and a comb.”