“Does it make any sense that your people could drag me right up to the front of your Men’s House the last time I was here, but this time I have to be cleansed?” Anhinga demanded, her hands clenched in her lap as she stared at Salamander’s lean form across the fire.
“I have never thought of it that way,” he answered, a puzzled frown on his forehead.
The fire burned before a low hut made of woven palmetto leaves. It stood beneath the sweetgum, having sheltered countless travelers and Traders. This, Anhinga had learned, was to be her bridal home during the cleansing of her souls.
Around them a halo of insects insisted on swirling, most of them to be eventually sucked into the flames. In the night sky, a thin sliver of Father Moon shone between the clouds and cast patterns of silver across the blackness.
“I could have brought all kinds of evil into Sun Town. Believe me, for all the terrible things I wished on your people, they should have died of a terrible wasting disease, their muscles turning to pus, their skin becoming a mass of boils.” She glared her hatred at him.
His large dark eyes seemed to swell, and her souls stumbled. What was it about him? His people considered him some sort of comic fool, but when she looked into those eyes, it was as if they drew her souls down into their brown depths. He made her skin shiver with a curious excitement that she couldn’t understand. Was
it because she was destined to kill him? Is that what made him such a novelty?
“If you hate us so, why are you here?” he asked softly. The fire popped, sparks rising between them.
“My uncle wants peace.” She could see he didn’t believe her so she countered, “Why, in Panther’s name, did you cut me loose that night? I was your brother’s property.”
He took a deep breath. “For the same reason that you came back. We are tied by Power. You and I.”
She bit off a bitter smile before it could touch her lips. Yes, bound by Power! It has brought me here to destroy you, fool! Aloud she said, “You took a great risk setting me free.”
“Yes.” He shrugged, looking curiously vulnerable as he eyed the fire. “The vision isn’t clear yet, but you should know that you’re not the only one trying to destroy me.”
By Panther, does he hear my thoughts?
“I don’t know where Masked Owl is taking us, or how it is supposed to end. All I have is my wits, but everyone else has theirs, too.” His smile went crooked. “However, until they destroy me, I shall do my best to care for you. I don’t understand the balance of it, but for all that White Bird would have done to hurt you and demean you, I shall do everything the opposite.”
She frowned, unable to see the sense in that, but willing to accept its oddity given the alternatives. “I still don’t understand why you spoke out. You could have let the others find a husband for me. Perhaps Deep Hunter, or that Mud Stalker.”
“I told you.” His eyes had become passive again. “We are tied. When I recognized you, I knew that was why he asked me to free you. So that you could come back. You came here to marry White Bird, the man who captured you and hurt you. You were meant for me. I realized that in a flash of understanding.”
“But I still have to undergo this cleansing?”
He nodded. “It would be most unpleasant if you didn’t.”
“It was most unpleasant the last time I was here.”
For a long time, he said nothing, just stared into the fire.
“I heard that you are already married.”
His smile might have been a ghost. “Yes, to two women in Snapping Turtle Clan. Pine Drop and Night Rain.”
“So, I am a third wife?”
He steepled his fingers, brow lining. “This will be difficult. Among my people, a man goes to live with his wife, in her territory.”
“Among mine, too. So, what is my territory? This little heap of mud in the middle of a lake?”
“For the next six days it is.” He seemed oblivious to her anger. “After that I will build you a house in Owl Clan territory. I know just the spot. You will appreciate it, my brother’s bones were burned there.”
Owl Clan territory? Good, things were beginning to look up. It would place her in the middle of the enemy, in a position where one day she could drive the terrible dagger of revenge into their hearts.
“I will work the rest out with my other wives.” He mused, seeing it all in his souls. “Which will be interesting in its own right.”
“They will not resent me? Try to make me miserable for taking you away from them for part of the time?”
Amusement, like faint and distant lightning, flickered in his face. “I could be wrong, but I doubt it. Like you, they were not particularly pleased to marry me—especially after my mother’s souls began to loosen. I imagine that the nights I spend with you will relieve them. Perhaps, after you come to discover your situation, you may be just as grateful for them.”
She took a deep breath against the tightening she felt in her chest. Tonight she should be bedding her enemy, taking the first step on the long passage to final revenge on Owl Clan. Instead, she was here, removed from Sun Town by their silly fears of spiritual infection, talking to this unusual boy. The top of his head only came to her chin. Unlike Mist Finger or the others of her suitors, he was mostly thin bones. Hardly the ideal of the young warrior-hunter that had filled her fantasies.
Wait until he’s asleep, steal a canoe, and head south.
“And do what?” she asked aloud, eyes fixed on the fire. He seemed not to hear as she imagined her uncle’s face, saw the expression of disappointment in his eyes. It had been bad enough during the months that she healed in the Panther’s Bones, living amidst Mist Finger’s, Right Talon’s, Cooter’s, Spider Fire’s, and Slit Nose’s families. What made her think that after this second failure, it would be any easier?
Armed with the stony beating of her heart, she stood. He was watching her as she stepped around the fire and reached her hand out to him. When he took it, a curious tingle ran through her. His eyes seemed to grow as she pulled him to his feet. For a long moment she looked down into his fascinating eyes, seeing the growing desire.
She held his hand as she walked to the small shelter, ducked inside, and loosened the knots that held her kirtle. The fabric slipped smoothly over her hips to settle beside the moss-covered bed.
He had frozen, mouth parted, his eyes fixed on her body where the fire cast its feeble light. The vein in his neck was pulsing, his chest rising and falling. When she untied the knot that held his breechcloth, it fell away to reveal him, taut and ready.
Her own heartbeat had begun to pound, a warm sensation spinning itself inside her hips. She lay back on the bedding, watching him with a building anticipation. The faint firelight played across his thin body as he lowered himself, his skin sliding warmly across hers.
Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him and felt the life burning brightly within him. Her breasts tightened as his chest met hers. She was leading him to her, thrilled as his penis slid inside her.
She was thinking about how she was going to kill him when the liquid waves of ecstasy burst through her pelvis. She gasped, taken completely by surprise. Nothing in the naive experimentation of youth had prepared her for the likes of this.
Moments later, he, too, shivered and tensed, a strained sound choking in his throat. Then his arms cupped her shoulders and he buried his face in her hair.
Atop the thick thatch of the Women’s House, the rain sounded like a continuous whisper rather than a drumming. The runoff beat a staccato as it spattered into pools of water that in turn dribbled off to the sides of the Mother Mound. The building was large, filled with baskets and pots that contained the ceremonial items provided by each clan for its women. Each moon, when a woman’s cycle came full, she came here, to attend to herself through the menstrual period.
The time she spent in seclusion with her sisters provided a respite from the never-ending trials of life. She had time for reflection, attention to the spirits, and a break from the normal routine of running a household. Children, husbands, and relatives could not constantly pester or demand her attention. Here, surrounded by women, she could catch up on gossip, hear news of other clans, build friendships, and strengthen ties with friends and acquaintances. The walls of clan politics tended to soften. Negotiations took place, and problems could be solved in a more relaxed environment, woman to woman, without the pressures of others bearing down.
Night Rain had put off leaving for the Women’s House until the
last moment when she discovered herself spotting. Like her sister, she had suffered intermittent cramps for the last several moons. Even the swelling and tenderness in her breasts wasn’t an indicator. She should have known, however, from the moods, and the fact that her cycle had begun to coincide with her sister’s.
She removed her bark rain hat as she stepped into the low doorway. The building, large and rectangular, was oriented north-south atop the low mound. The doorway opened to the west, while on the east, two large windows were situated so that the first rays of the morning sun shot light into the two rooms, one for the Northern Moiety, the other, hers, for the Southern.
She nodded to the clusters of women who sat in clan areas along the walls. They were working at tasks, making beads, others twining cord. Some ground pieces of hematite against slabs of Swamp Panther sandstone in the endless process of crafting net sinkers. They nodded, smiling and waving as Night Rain crossed the room. She rounded the small central fire and located Pine Drop where she sat on a furry buffalo hide, the hair flattened from long use. She lowered herself onto the space her sister opened for her and placed her sack of provisions and her rain hat to one side.
“I thought you’d be following close behind me.” Pine Drop smiled. “I take it you left a stew for Salamander?”
Night Rain snorted. “Why? He’s still over building a house for that wild Swamp Panther woman. I swear, I hope she chokes on the Serpent’s cleansing. I don’t trust her. She’s evil. And why, Sister, do you care if he eats or not? He and that barbarian are the talk of Sun Town! We are mentioned by everyone! You should hear the things they’re saying. That somehow it was our fault. That we couldn’t conceive, that you were off with Three Stomachs, that we hurt his feelings so much he had to go to a barbarian for companionship! People are laughing at us and not just him!”
Pine Drop stopped short, a pale look washing across her face. She had been grinding ocher on a sandstone tablet. Beside her sat a small pot of grease with which to mix the bright red color. “I should never have listened to Uncle.”
Night Rain cocked her head. “What’s wrong with you? For nearly half a moon, you’ve been different. Something’s changed.”
“Nothing has changed.”
“Yes, it has. You haven’t spoken a single word to Three Stomachs. What did he do to you?”
Pine Drop widened her eyes expressively. “As you can see, Sister, he did nothing to me. I should be happily at home, delighted with
the notion that my moon was late, assured that I was pregnant. Yet, here I am, taking my share of absorbent from the pot, trying to figure out why I’m barren.”
“You’re not barren. It just hasn’t taken is all.” Night Rain resettled herself, reaching into the sack she had brought. From it she took root cakes, dried fish, and smoked deer meat to put into the stone bowl her lineage left for storage. She slipped out of her shawl and massaged her breasts, wincing at the ache. “Snakes, why has my moon come to be so miserable?”
Pine Drop stared at the smoking fire pit in the center of the room. A flame flickered in halfhearted effort as it slowly chewed at the bottom of a blackened log. “I don’t know. I just wonder, is all.”
Night Rain perked up at that. “Yes?”
Her sister shook her head. “I never had these problems, the unending cramps, I mean, until I started coupling with Three Stomachs. It’s as if …”
“What? Snakes! Don’t drag this out. Tell me.”
Pine Drop tilted her head, asking in a whisper, “Do you think we’re being punished?”
“By whom?” Night Rain leaned forward, searching her sister’s face. What does she know? What does she suspect? She is more intimate with Mother and Uncle’s plans. Have they told her something?
“Power,” Pine Drop answered, a hand covering her mouth. “Spirits. Something.”
“Why would you think that?”
She shook her head as though baffled. “It’s just a feeling.”
“A feeling?” Night Rain shifted, glancing covertly around the room. “What happened the day that you and Salamander were gone? Remember? The day you left me the bladderwort?”
Pine Drop smiled slightly, then her perplexed look returned. “It was …”—she seemed to be searching for the right word—“ … fun.”
“Fun? A day with Salamander?”
Pine Drop raised her hands and dropped them. “You can’t understand.”
“That’s drilling the bead in the center. You’re right, I don’t understand. I think he’s about as much fun as a lump of mud. He hasn’t so much as broken a smile since we’ve been married. He’s a dupe, Pine Drop. People laugh at us behind their hands. I can’t wait until Uncle says the time is right to divorce him. I just thank the Sky Beings he hasn’t crawled into my bed for nearly a moon.”
Pine Drop’s lips pinched. After a long pause, she said, “How does it make you feel now that he’s spending his time with that Swamp
Panther and not us? I mean, doesn’t it bother you that he prefers the companionship of some wild barbarian to ours?”
“Eats Wood says it’s the same woman White Bird captured during the raid at Ground Cherry Camp. The one who escaped so mysteriously in the night. Remember? She took Red Finger’s canoe? He says it’s a Swamp Panther plot, that she came here to do something terrible to us in revenge for what we did to her and her friends.”
“Eats Wood is an idiot.”
“Well, so is our husband.”
“Is he?” Pine Drop wondered. “I’ve heard Uncle and Mother talking about it. About this marriage. They want to believe like Eats Wood, that it is some terrible plot hatched by Owl Clan with the Swamp Panthers to hurt the clans, but they are both worried they might be wrong.”
“How so?”
She shook her head. “Think about it. Wing Heart has lost her souls. Any action Water Petal would take is instantly challenged by Moccasin Leaf. The fight between the lineages has paralyzed Owl Clan. Salamander is the Speaker, but everyone thinks he’s a fool.”
“He is.”
Pine Drop ignored her. “Nevertheless, this fool now has an alliance with the Swamp Panthers, and Owl Clan receives a canoe load of sandstone every moon.” She gestured around, pointing.
At every location at least one, and generally several pieces, of sandstone were lying on the packed clay floor amidst pieces of wood, leather, and stone. The material was essential to Sun Town. The finishing of most stone tools and all woodwork depended on the abrasive quality of the sandstone. Anything that needed to be smoothed or fitted had to be ground, and Swamp Panther sandstone was the perfect abrasive. She opened her other hand, showing Night Rain the piece of sandstone she had been grinding the ocher on.
“Sandstone will not return them to authority,” Night Rain declared. “Snapping Turtle Clan now occupies that position.”
“We’re not on top yet. Thunder Tail has been given leadership of the Council. But for us the vote would have been unanimous.”
“Give Uncle several more moons, and we’ll be on top. Just wait and see.”
Pine Drop asked, “Did you know that Deep Hunter detailed men to kill Jaguar Hide? Our husband managed to delay them. Somehow he kept Saw Back’s party on the Turtle’s Back just long enough so that Jaguar Hide escaped into the channels. Salamander baited them, confused them, and the Swamp Panther got away. Deep
Hunter was furious. He stalked back and forth in a rage for a whole day. He still can’t understand how he was thwarted, but he exiled Saw Back to Yellow Mud Camp for four moons.”
“Delayed how?” Night Rain was curious for the first time. “Saw Back is a really a handsome man. He’s Alligator Clan, and, well, you know, I’ve been thinking that after we’re through with Salamander, he’d make a fine husband.”
Pine Drop gave her a sober look. “You’d better hope he can placate his Speaker. That, or, assuming we are ever ‘through’ with Salamander, you had better plan on enjoying your life in Yellow Mud Camp.”
“Having a man like him to share my bed, I could stand the climate over there. I’m surprised that he didn’t just ignore Salamander. Everyone else does.”
“Perhaps, but Salamander talked Saw Back out of fulfilling his Speaker’s orders. And Deep Hunter blames Saw Back, not Salamander.” She seemed to retreat again, lost in her thoughts.
“You’ve been preoccupied ever since he married that barbarian.” Night Rain shook her head. “It’s not a disaster! It frees us! Think, Sister. Why does he need us? He’s got her, a barbarian, for a wife. That makes him more of a freak than he already is. I think we should ask Mother and Uncle to get us a divorce.”
Pine Drop was nodding absently. “Perhaps.” A pause. “What could he see in her?”
Night Rain stood and walked to the large ceramic pot that held the mixture of cattail down and hanging moss. At just the mention of sharing a bed with Saw Back, her flow increased.
When she returned, Pine Drop was still looking confused.
“Sister, who cares what he sees in her?”
Pine Drop airily replied, “I just wonder, that’s all.”