Seven Skull Shield was used to being on the run. Normally, however, he had places to hole up. A jealous husband who might be searching for him in River Mounds City meant that Seven Skull Shield might relocate to the Grand Plaza, or up north to Serpent Woman Mounds. Never had anyone placed enough of a price on his head that he couldn’t outbid the offended party and buy protection.
The very notion that he was being forced to hide—in his city—absolutely infuriated him. And by strangers, no less!
Late as it was, he made his way to Wooden Doll’s. By this time, perhaps she’d finished entertaining her last man for the night.
As he slipped through the darkness, he noticed that a litter lay on the ground beside the ramada. Porters were scattered about, wrapped in their cloaks for protection from the mosquitoes.
Seven Skull Shield started past, feeling irritated, then one of the men sat up, scratching at his ear.
“Hey?” Seven Skull Shield called. “How long is your master going to be in there?”
The man squinted in the darkness. “Go away. He Traded her an exquisite Natchez basket full of yaupon leaves for the entire night.”
“He’s a Natchez?” A cold fist clenched in his gut.
“Nah. Some Four Winds noble that’s been down south. Haven’t you heard? He came with an Itza!”
“Yes. I might have heard something about that.”
Seven Skull Shield glared at the door, thinking about the man in there. All he had to do was wait until the porter drifted off to sleep. He could quietly unlatch the door. Wooden Doll had that stone hammer. Or there was the bone stiletto she hid by her bed in case a man got too rough. Or, for that matter, Seven Skull Shield could just pick up a length of firewood and beat Horn Lance to death.
He took a step toward the door.
Stopped.
His hands knotted into fists. So many problems would be solved. They’d never dare hunt him after this. He’d be doing the Keeper a huge favor, and maybe Night Shadow Star and the living god, too.
But it wasn’t just him. What would Wooden Doll say? How would it change things if he killed a man in her bed? If it were anyone but Wooden Doll …
Turning on his heel, he stalked away into the night, a feeling of desolation aching between his souls.