From the heights atop the canoe landing, Salamander watched Green Crane’s slim canoe as it paddled northward across the calm waters of Morning Lake. The wake, in the form of shallow Vs, trailed behind the long dugout; the surface looked pocked where their paddles had swirled the water. He gave one final wave as the two Wash’ta Traders looked back. Each waved in turn.
“It is good,” he told himself. “Masked Owl, see to their safe return.”
“If you ever need anything,” Green Crane had said as he took Salamander’s arm in a firm grip, “send for the stone owl. I will come.”
“Make her a good husband,” he had answered, before giving both Green Crane and Always Fat sturdy hugs.
Now he watched as they nosed their craft into the narrow channel that led north along the floodplain.
“So,” Pine Drop’s familiar voice said from behind him. “They are off.”
Salamander nodded. “Indeed they are. I wish them safety and a speedy journey.”
“I sincerely hope they don’t get lost again.” She stepped up beside him, tangles of her black hair curling around her shoulders as the breeze played with it. Her thoughtful brown eyes followed the Traders’ canoe as it disappeared behind the willows.
“I think I explained the channels correctly.”
She glanced at him, a question in her eyes. “Was it worth it? You
almost stripped your clan for the meat and hides you received in return.”
“Oh, yes, it was worth it.” In his imagination he watched the canoe winding its way northward. “I have heard the talk. Others are saying that I make as poor a Trader as I do a Speaker.”
“Do you, Salamander?”
“Would you believe me if I said there was more to this than the textiles, beads, carvings, medicine plants, and dyes?”
For a moment she hesitated, then said, “I think I would, Salamander.” Her attention turned to his face as she said, “I think there is more to you than most people think.” Her gaze went to the canoe landing. “Anhinga has still not returned?”
“No. It is but five days.”
To his surprise, Pine Drop reached out and linked her arm in his. “Do you think she’s coming back, Salamander?”
“Oh, yes. She doesn’t want to, but she will. She can’t stay away.”
Pine Drop shook her head. “I don’t like it. I mean the idea that she just goes out into the swamp for her moon. Anything could be happening out there.”
He gave her a sidelong inspection. “Are you worried about her?”
“No, husband. I’m worried about you. Deep Hunter and some of the others might not be the only ones who are bitter about the past. I think you can wager that Jaguar Hide isn’t acting in your best interests.”
How much did he dare tell her? “No, he has his own plans.”
“And Anhinga? There is talk. Eats Wood swears she is the same woman your brother captured in the Ground Cherry Camp raid.”
“She is.”
“What?” Pine Drop cried, using his arm to turn him so that she could stare into his eyes. Did all the women in his life have to be taller than he?
“We are bound, she and I. It is a thing I cannot explain. Something that no one but I can understand.”
“You and Masked Owl!”
He started, instantly regretting it as she read his expression.
Her voice dropped. “Is he real, Salamander? Does Masked Owl really come to you?”
He swallowed hard, knowing it made him look nervous, unable to help it. He bargained for time. “What do you think?”
She shook her head, a fragility in her eyes. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. Tell me, please. Tell me that it’s just an act, a thing you do to keep your enemies off-balance.”
That brought a wistful smile to his lips. “Pine Drop, why is it
easier to believe that I’m making this up than it is to know that I converse with Masked Owl?”
She sank white teeth into her lower lip, searching his eyes, then said, “Spirit Power scares me, husband. I don’t know what it wants from you, or from me. I just have a feeling, is all. And you, you’re vulnerable, Salamander. You have a great number of enemies. Don’t you understand, they are waiting to destroy you.”
He reached out, running the backs of his fingers along her smooth cheek. “All but you and Water Petal. What has happened to you, Pine Drop? What do you see in me that the others don’t?”
Her expression pinched. “I don’t want you hurt. It is important that you understand that. I don’t know what I can do to protect you. I have my duties to my clan, and I will attend to them, no matter what.”
“I am forewarned, and I thank you for that. I wouldn’t expect you to act against the wishes of your clan. Whatever you must do, I will understand. You must not worry about me. I will take care of myself.”
She sighed wearily, shaking her head. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“It should.” He turned his eyes back to the northern end of the lake, where the Traders had disappeared. “When the time comes, Wife, we must follow our hearts. Remember that I said that. Things are happening. Power is gathering.”
She tightened her grip on his arm. “Come home with me, husband. The Snakes know where Night Rain is off to, but maybe she’ll stay gone for the night. I would like to have you to myself for a time. Just you and me together for as long as we can keep the world away.”
He let her lead him south past the Men’s House, hardly aware of the grim stares that Eats Wood and Red Finger gave him as he passed. He held his wife’s hand, and wished he were someone else, someone that Power and circumstance hadn’t called upon. Later, in Pine Drop’s arms, he forgot even that.
The canoe bearing Yellow Spider and Bluefin arrived in late morning. Mud Stalker matched his stride with Deep Hunter’s as they descended the trodden soil of the canoe landing. Squinting into the hot sunlight, he could see a small crowd already gathering. People were slapping Yellow Spider on the back, asking questions.
“Did you have trouble?”
“None,” Bluefin replied, a grin breaking his normally placid face.
“Did you see any Swamp Panthers?”
“A canoe with two men,” Yellow Spider replied. “We called out that we came for sandstone under Jaguar Hide’s peace. They said nothing, just nodded, but they watched us the entire time. Seeing what we did, and that we did nothing more than collect sandstone.”
One of the Eagle Clan men spoke. “I would be obliged for a piece of that. In fact, that piece right there on top. I’m sanding beads for a necklace.”
“We are pleased to present it to you,” Yellow Spider remarked with a smile as he handed over the thick piece of sandstone.
“What is this?” Clay Fat asked as he strode up to stand beside Mud Stalker and Deep Hunter.
“The first canoe load of Swamp Panther sandstone,” Deep Hunter answered.
“Then it is true?” Clay Fat asked, one eyebrow raised.
“So it would seem.” Mud Stalker cradled his ruined arm.
“What does it mean?” Clay Fat asked.
“Nothing!” Deep Hunter’s lip curled. “An occasional canoeful of sandstone isn’t going to bring Owl Clan back to prominence.”
“But we must keep an eye on them,” Mud Stalker mused.
“Why?” Clay Fat asked. “Wing Heart is crazy. That boy sure isn’t any Speaker.”
“Indeed he is not,” Deep Hunter agreed. He glanced up, meeting Mud Stalker’s eyes and nodding. “We must watch this Trade with the Swamp Panthers. If it becomes too popular, we must take steps to stop it.”
Mud Stalker fingered the scars on his right elbow. “You and I may not agree about many things, Speaker, but we do about this.”
Clay Fat looked uneasy. “It is Owl Clan’s business.”
“Not if we make it ours, old friend.” Mud Stalker replied. “I still haven’t forgotten your obligation to my clan, Clay Fat. We prepared quite a feast. Copperhead turned down several very profitable offers in order to save himself for Spring Cypress.” He paused, letting Clay Fat squirm.
“All it would take would be a raid. A party of warriors sent into the Swamp Panthers’ lands. This Trade would end as quickly as it began.”
Clay Fat swallowed hard. “You would have to have Council approval. This is Owl Clan’s business. You cannot do this alone.”
Mud Stalker considered the situation. Deep Hunter would act immediately given the slightest encouragement. But would that necessarily
be good for Snapping Turtle Clan’s position among the people?
“I must agree, reluctantly, with Clay Fat.” Mud Stalker watched Deep Hunter’s expression harden and smiled to himself. “However,” he soothed, “if this sandstone becomes too irksome, Deep Hunter, I might be prevailed upon to support you.”
“Indeed?” Deep Hunter muttered, sensing a trap.
“All things in time, my old friend.” With that Mud Stalker turned on his heel and strode off.