Sixty-five

For a full quarter moon—seven unending and painful days—Seven Skull Shield had lain in bed. For most of that time, he’d had trouble with his souls—wandering in and out of his body. When they were out, he floated in a world of Dreams: times spent with Winder; golden days with Wooden Doll; or hearing amusement in the Keeper’s voice as she berated him. Sometimes it was laughing and joking with the shell carvers or the cord spinners.

Once he was even in Mother Otter’s bed, staring down at her as they shared the most wondrous coupling, her body undulating under his. That one, when he awakened, he knew to have only been a Dream. Some things, thank the Spirits, stretched credulity beyond the farthest reaches.

Then there were the other places to which his souls fled: dark, filled with death, terror, and angry men who pounded down narrow passageways blocked on either side by buildings—fire, pain, and agony shooting like lightning out of their fingers.

And through it all, fear filled him. The knowledge that he was about to be locked in a small cage, his body pierced with sharp sticks, burned, and beaten … and then would come the final agony of the square.

Other times he was awake, fully conscious of the ache in his body, the pained muscles and joints. It seemed that every inch of his hide hurt, either burned or punctured, bruised or battered. Knots covered his head.

But he knew where he was: Wooden Doll’s. Not only was her fine bed with all its pillows and soft blankets reassuring, but the familiar setting proved a tonic for his soul.

He’d barely been conscious the first time she’d taken a damp cloth to sponge his wounds. Remembered the lines of worry in her fine brow as she’d lifted his leg to the side, stifled a gasp, and tenderly cleaned his abused genitals.

Given her reaction, he wasn’t sure he wanted to look.

Helped upright by Whispering Dawn and Wooden Doll, his first urination into the pot they held had been dark with blood.

“Skull, so help me.” Wooden Doll had shaken her head. “I always knew you’d come to grief.”

“Not dead yet, girl,” he’d told her. “Call it a success, huh?”

“A success? You can’t even stand, every inch of you is hurt, and half the time you’re out of your head.”

“Got me back into your bed, didn’t it?”

She’d thumped him playfully on the shoulder, which shot pain. At his wince, she’d winked and said, “You might have wiggled your way into my bed, but you’re not worth much now that you’re here.”

“He never was much for planning,” Whispering Dawn replied from the side where she bent awkwardly over her pregnant belly and stirred the stew.

On the seventh morning, he awakened with clarity he hadn’t possessed since his rescue. He blinked up at Wooden Doll’s ceiling. Shifted, which triggered the dull ache in his shoulders. His kidneys burned, but didn’t throb, and the headache was gone.

Beside him, Wooden Doll rolled onto her side, pulled her hair back over her shoulder, and propped herself on an elbow, thoughtful eyes taking in his condition.

He tried to smile. Winced at the scabs on his lips. “I thought I was Dreaming that I was here.”

“Oh, you did plenty of Dreaming. Some of it silent, some just mutterings, and some was loud and apparently most unpleasant. At those times either I or Whispering Dawn would usually lean close to your ear, tell you it was all right, and you’d drop back into deep sleep again.”

“How did I get here?”

“On my litter.”

“You got me out of there?”

“It was a combined effort.” She arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “Had you asked me a couple of years back, I’d have said the chances that you, of all people, could have friends the likes of which you have would have been a head-struck delusion. Now, I wonder what I have missed in the seeing of you.”

“Now you lost me.”

“Have I just been blind? Or did I purposefully mislead myself about the kind of man you are?”

“I’m just me.”

“That’s my point. Maybe I’ve been so close to you, I’ve missed it.”

“Missed what? Don’t make me think. My head is still too beat up for it.”

“A bunch of us planned and conducted your rescue. Blue Heron and I, along with Flat Stone Pipe and Matron Columella. We had to wait until the time was right and Spotted Wrist was in Serpent Woman Town, then we had to lure Sun Wing and the Tortoise Bundle away so we could set fire to her palace, clear out the guards. Flat Stone Pipe sneaked in early, got to work cutting the bindings that held your cage together. But it took Columella’s warriors to break the last of the poles loose so we could get you out. Then they carried you to my litter. I had my porters bring you here.”

“A quarter moon ago.”

“That’s right.”

Seven Skull Shield reached up with a scabbed hand and rubbed his eyes. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.”

“That pus-licking new Keeper will have people out looking for—”

“His warriors are all over. Had one loitering around here for a couple of days. Flat Stone Pipe anticipated that. He’s had a series of his people show up one by one, be ushered inside for a hand of time or two, and then leave grinning. I had Whispering Dawn walk over to proposition the watcher. She asked him point-blank: How much Trade did he have, and that if he didn’t have the copper, shell, or textile that it took to lock hips with me to move his silly carcass out of here because he was pathetic.”

“He left?”

“Guess he figured I didn’t have the half-dead Seven Skull Shield in my place if I was servicing men and willing to give him a milking.”

“What about your regular clients?”

“Whispering Dawn tells them a Trader from up north dropped a sack of copper and a stack of white-fox hides on my floor to buy me for as long as his Trade will carry him. And that if they want to do the same, start piling up the Trade and I’ll consider how much time I’ll spend with them when I’m done.”

Seven Skull Shield tried to grin, but it pulled the scabs on his face too much. “But you’re still losing a pile of Trade while I’m laid up here.”

“I am.”

“So, I’d better find a place where my presence isn’t—”

“You’ll stay here.”

“But I—”

“No argument. Couple of days back, Spotted Wrist tore Blue Heron’s palace apart looking for you. Almost came to out-and-out war at Columella’s, his warriors and Evening Star House’s, but she let them search her palace anyway, each warrior accompanied the entire time. After you weren’t found, she issued an ultimatum, that if her word as matron wasn’t proven good enough, that from this point on, her cooperation with the Keeper was over. Finished. And that any of his people who were found in Evening Star Town would be captured, tied up, covered in hot pine pitch, and dropped on Spotted Wrist’s doorstep by armed warriors.”

“All of that? For me?”

“Well, partly. Let’s be honest here. There’s a struggle going on for control of the city. North Star House and Horned Serpent House against Evening Star House and Morning Star House, with River House in a sort of weakened and paralyzed neutrality. Rising Flame is on one side, Tonka’tzi Wind and Blue Heron on the other. You’ve become a symbolic pawn in the middle.”

“Pus and muck. Why me?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Blue Heron, Flat Stone Pipe, and Columella, not to mention Night Shadow Star, they all consider you a friend, think themselves in your debt. That’s the part that amazes me, given how long I’ve known you. These are Four Winds nobility. When Spotted Wrist took you out of Night Shadow Star’s palace? He took one of their own.”

“One of their own?” Seven Skull Shield repeated, trying to fit that into his understanding of the world and how it worked.

“You risked your life for them on several occasions. Blue Heron would have died but for you getting her away from the Quiz Quiz last year.”

“She’s my friend.”

Wooden Doll laughed, shook her head. “It amazes me. That’s your greatest strength, Skull. And in the end, it will kill you.”

“Having friends?”

“You know, you’re not out of this yet. Spotted Wrist won’t rest until he has you dead. Taking you like we did? That just raised the stakes in the game.”

“And now you’re a player. He will find out eventually, you know.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The only one I even half know is Blue Heron. In fact, she said I could take anything of hers I wanted in compensation for any Trade I might lose because of your stay here.”

“She didn’t stipulate? Set a limit?”

“No.”

He felt a warming of his heart. “I’m not the only one who’s ‘one of them.’ You impressed her somehow, probably over that trouble with Horn Lance, that ex-husband of hers.”

“That was business.”

“Watch yourself, you’re going to end up as deep in this as I am.” He took a moment, really studied her. Let his gaze trace the lines of her face, the perfect nose, high cheekbones, and the angle of her jaw. As he did, the question grew in her eyes, that slight lining of her brow as she tried to read him.

“What?”

“Thank you for bringing me here. That’s all.”

“You’re stalling, trying to change the subject. What was that look?”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d run away with me. Go somewhere where it isn’t a constant fight.”

The old familiar “I’m amused” eyebrow lifted. “We’ve had this conversation. You couldn’t stand being someplace that wasn’t here. Boredom would drive you insane, make you impossible to love, and I’d end up smacking you in the back of the head sometime when you weren’t looking.”

She paused. “But on a similar subject, what did you see in that woman? Willow Blossom? How did she mislead you, of all people?”

He took a deep breath, regretted it as his cracked ribs sent spears through his chest. “She lit up for me. Her eyes sparkled. That smile.”

“Any woman can do that.”

“You don’t.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. How did she fool you? By Piasa’s swinging balls, what were you thinking?”

“I was lonely. And, well, I thought that maybe she could be another you.”

This time the pain in his heart came from a different kind of wound. Looking at Wooden Doll, he suddenly understood that there would never be another one like her.