W
IND BABY PLAYED ON THE RIDGE TOPS, KICKING UP DUST and whirling it high into the air. In the afternoon sunlight, the tall streamers bobbed across the distances, glistening like powdered amber.
Ant Woman watched them for a moment, then let out a breath and looked back at the crowded plaza. Most of the mourners had settled into groups. They huddled around the plaza with food bowls in their hands, whispering, weeping. Some laughed at stories told about Flame Carrier. There had to be more than one hundred adults and perhaps that many children. Colorful blankets lay spread across the ground, filled with food pots, baskets of nuts and breads, steaming bowls of meats, and piles of roasted corn on the cob. Children hovered around them. They knew they shouldn’t play today, but it must be difficult, especially for the youngest.
“We’re sorry to disturb you, Matron.”
The voice jerked Ant Woman from her thoughts. She turned to see old Stone Ghost, Browser, and Flame Carrier’s slave, Redcrop, standing before her.
“Yes, what is it?”
Stone Ghost gestured to the logs pulled up around Ant Woman’s small fire. “May we sit? We would like to speak with you about our dead Matron.”
“That is what this day is all about, old fool. Of course you may sit with me.”
Stone Ghost grunted as he sat down by her side. His sparse white hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed in moons. It stuck out at odd angles. Through the holes in his mangy turkey feather cape, she could see a threadbare tan shirt. War Chief Browser knelt at the old man’s side.
“What is it you wish to know?” she asked.
Stone Ghost answered, “We are hoping you can help us find your friend’s murderer.”
“Me?” she said in surprise. “How can I do that?”
Browser said, “We wish to know things about her early life, Matron. Things that only you may know.”
Redcrop knelt to Ant Woman’s left, and her white cape draped around her. The girl looked as broken as Ant Woman felt. Her nose was as red as a ripe chokecherry.
Ant Woman tugged her brown-and-yellow blanket more tightly around her shoulders and gave Redcrop a sympathetic look. The girl didn’t notice. She gazed down at her hands as though her entire world lay there now. What had they done? Dragged her away from the grave?
Softly, Ant Woman said, “Are you well, child?”
“Yes, I—I am, Matron. Well enough.”
“It’s all right to miss her, girl. I miss her, too. She was my friend for seventy summers. I don’t know how I will get along without her wisdom.”
Redcrop’s mouth quivered. She had to swallow before she could say, “She loved you very much, Ant Woman. She told me many times.”
“She loved you, too.”
Ant Woman placed a bony hand on Redcrop’s arm, and tears welled in the girl’s eyes. “We’ll manage. It will take many lonely nights of wishing and waking to find the wishes unfulfilled, but when the wishes have worn themselves out, we’ll both be all right.”
Redcrop whispered, “Thank you, Matron.”
Ant Woman squeezed her arm and released it, then reached for the bowl of corn bread filled with giant wild rye seeds that sat on the hearthstones before her. She had been picking at the bread for over a hand of time. It was delicious, but she felt sick without Flame Carrier. Sick and lost. Even when they’d been separated by great distances, Ant Woman had relied on Flame Carrier’s memory to carry her through. She’d had imaginary conversations with Flame Carrier, asking her what she would do in her position, or what she thought about this problem or that person. All of her strength had come from her friend.
But she’s gone. Flame Carrier is gone.
Ant Woman broke off a chunk of corn bread and put it in her toothless mouth. While she gummed it, she watched Stone Ghost and War Chief Browser. They whispered to each other. Stone Ghost nodded, and his mouth tightened. His long hooked nose had a slight bend to
it, as though it had been broken some time during his long life. Probably from a fist. Ant Woman squinted one eye at him. Half the world thought he was a powerful witch. The other half thought he was an old fool. She straddled the line. There were many stories about his foolishness, and many more about how clever he was. She figured he was probably a clever fool. She glanced down at the holes in the toes of his moccasins. Whatever the truth, his cleverness certainly hadn’t gained him much wealth.
“Well?” she said. “What is it?”
The War Chief leaned forward. He had a round face, with a flat nose and thick black eyebrows. Handsome, in a rough-hewn sort of way. “Our Matron rarely spoke about her parents or her childhood.”
Ant Woman’s souls drifted, seeing faces she had not seen in seventy summers. “Well, I never knew your Matron’s father, Ravenfire, but I knew her—”
“I knew Ravenfire, or I should say I met him once.” Stone Ghost waved a hand apologetically. “But forgive me. Please go on.”
“I was just going to say that I knew her mother well. Spider Silk came to our village eight moons pregnant. She had the child and lived with us for the rest of her life. Spider Silk was running at the time. She never said so, but she must have been.”
“Running?” Stone Ghost cocked his head. “From what?”
Ant Woman made a helpless gesture. “I never knew. But only a desperate woman would run away from her people eight moons pregnant, and chance traveling the roads alone. That was back after the Straight Path Nation collapsed. War had just broken out. Villages were being burned.”
Stone Ghost stared at her with unnerving intensity. “What of her parents? Did you ever meet them?”
“On occasion Spider Silk’s parents came to visit her, and then everyone knew why Spider Silk was strange. Her father, Born-of-Water, had pink eyes and the skin of a corpse, white and shiny. He looked just like a wolf—a human wolf. I swear it. His face was long and pointed, like a muzzle.” Ant Woman lifted her hands to her own face and showed them how it was shaped. “Her mother, Golden Fawn, seemed fairly ordinary, but—sad. Even when she smiled, despair lived in her eyes. I remember those two very well. They claimed to have been raised with the Blessed prophets, Cornsilk and Poor Singer. I don’t know if that was true, but that’s what Born-of-Water told people.”
Stone Ghost’s white brows drew together, and Ant Woman frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Stone Ghost laced his fingers around one knee, and his cape fell back, revealing the threadbare tan shirt he wore. She could see his ribs through the fabric.
Stone Ghost said, “It’s just curious. You see, my own grandmother, Orenda, was raised with Cornsilk and Poor Singer. I wonder if she knew Spider Silk or her parents?”
Ant Woman took another drink of tea and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Perhaps Orenda and Spider Silk grew up together?”
Stone Ghost shrugged. “Who can say? Every person alive wishes to be associated with the most important holy people in our history. I often thought that—”
Ant Woman broke in: “Did Orenda ever mention a turquoise cave to you?”
Stone Ghost’s eyes went wide. “The Turquoise Cave! Why, yes. After my grandmother left the land of the Mountain Builders and came to the Straight Path Nation, she lived in the Turquoise Cave for a time, before moving to Green Mesa.”
Ant Woman broke off another piece of corn bread and ate it. The giant wild rye seeds hurt her gums, but they had a rich earthy flavor that tasted delicious. “Spider Silk said she was born in that cave. Maybe your grandmother, Orenda, was related to Spider Silk.”
Stone Ghost relaced the crooked blue-veined fingers around his knee. “Maybe, but I don’t recall my grandmother ever mentioning her name.”
Browser said, “If there is a connection between your grandmother and our Matron’s mother, could it have something to do with her murder? Perhaps the murderers are hunting down the children of people who knew the Blessed Poor Singer and the Blessed Cornsilk?”
Stone Ghost peered unblinking at the leaping flames before responding, “Everything is connected to everything, Nephew, but that would seem very odd. After all, I’ve been living alone in the middle of nowhere for most of my life. If someone had wished to kill me, it would have taken little effort.”
Ant Woman made a disgusted sound. “You old fool. You’re either senile or stupid.”
Stone Ghost gave her a genuinely interested look. “Why would you say that?”
“Think of the amount of courage it would have taken! Most people think you’re a witch. No sane human would willingly walk into your lair.”
Stone Ghost’s white brows lowered. “Well, they wouldn’t have had to ‘walk into my lair,’ Ant Woman. They could have shot me in the back when I was out gathering prickly pear cactus fruit, or clubbed me to death while I was dozing in the summer sunshine. And your Matron has been wandering about gathering followers for the Katsinas’ People for almost four summers. If someone had wished to kill her, they could have done it easily long ago. Why now?”
Redcrop shifted and toyed with the hands in her lap.
“What is it, child?” Ant Woman asked.
“I was wondering if maybe the murderers just discovered something they did not know before.”
“What?”
Redcrop shook her head and raggedly chopped locks of hair fell over her face. “I don’t know, Matron. I’m sorry I’m not more help.”
“You’re grieving, child,” Ant Woman said and touched Redcrop’s knee. “I’m surprised you can think at all.”
Browser lifted his gaze to Ant Woman. “Perhaps our murderers are simply patient. They may have waited many sun cycles for the right moment to strike.”
Ant Woman pointed a knobby finger at Stone Ghost. “If that is the case, you had better start walking backwards so you can see who’s sneaking up on you.”
Stone Ghost smiled. “Don’t you think it would be easier if I just borrowed the eyes of a big cat and used pine pitch to glue them to the back of my skull?”
Ant Woman stared at him. On night excursions, witches often used an animal’s eyes to see better, then they left the eyes to spy on people. Ant Woman had known a young man who woke up one morning to see a bobcat’s eyes watching him from his ceiling rafters. They’d been there for quite a while because nests of maggots had hatched in them. That’s what had awakened the man, maggots dropping onto his face.
Ant Woman said, “I wouldn’t joke about such doings if I were you,
Stone Ghost. You might find yourself dead at the hand of a friend, rather than one of your many enemies.”
Stone Ghost chuckled, but didn’t respond.
“Matron,” Browser said, “I must ask you about something that happened long ago. Do you recall a woman from the Green Mesa clans coming to see our Matron when she lived in your village?”
Ant Woman ate another mouthful of bread and reached for her teacup to wash it down. “When would that have been?”
“I can’t say for certain, perhaps fifteen or twenty summers ago?”
“Twenty summers ago,” Ant Woman whispered, trying to remember. She sipped her tea. The flavors of dried mint and shooting star petals mixed deliciously. “I would have seen forty or fifty summers. During that time, many people came to see your Matron and her mother. Spider Silk was getting old, but she had a reputation as a Powerful Healer. Your Matron helped her mother with surgeries and applying poultices, mixing herbs. Those two saved many lives. People genuinely loved them.” She gestured lightly. “They also feared them, of course. Anyone who is skilled with plants is a little frightening, because she can kill as well as cure.”
Redcrop said, “Grandmother knew a great deal about plants. She taught me.”
Ant Woman nodded. “She got that from her mother, who claimed she got it from her mother, and she said she got it from her mother, and on back forever, I suppose.”
Browser touched Stone Ghost’s hand. “Uncle? Who was Orenda’s mother? What was her name?”
Stone Ghost shook his head, but Ant Woman could see his hesitation. He said, “She never spoke about her real mother, but a woman of the Hollow Hoof Clan, named Nightshade, raised my grandmother.”
Browser looked back at Ant Woman. “Do you recall the name of Born-of-Water’s mother, or Golden Fawn’s? Was it Nightshade?”
“I don’t think I ever heard their names. If I did, I’ve forgotten.”
Redcrop murmured, “Grandmother talked about Badgertail and Nightshade.”
Everyone turned in her direction.
Firelight glazed Redcrop’s wide eyes.
Ant Woman gently said, “Go on, child. What do you remember?”
“Not very much, Matron. I recall that she said Badgertail had been
a great War Chief somewhere far to the east near a huge river. Nightshade was supposed to have been a very Powerful Dreamer.”
Browser said, “Then our Matron had at least heard stories of the woman who raised Orenda. Did she say anything else, Redcrop?”
Redcrop touched her temple, as though her head ached. “I remember that Grandmother had an older brother—”
“Yes.” Ant Woman nodded. “Bear Dancer. I remember him. He was an odd one. Many summers ago I heard he was killed in a raid. I recall hearing that she had a half brother, too, but I don’t think she ever knew him.”