Read It Sleeps in Me Online

Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

It Sleeps in Me (14 page)

BOOK: It Sleeps in Me
2.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Sora’s eyes fluttered open. She saw Wink duck out of her bedchamber, followed closely by Feather Dancer.
Far Eye remained for a few moments longer, staring at her as he fingered his large conch shell pendant. Then he, too, was gone.
FOR DAYS SORA DRIFTED IN AND OUT OF TORTURED DREAMS, awaking only long enough to eat some of the broth Wink forced into her mouth or to drink more willow-bark tea. Often, she heard Wink ordering someone to be gentle as Sora was rolled onto her side and her soiled bedding removed and replaced. Every night, Wink bathed and changed Sora’s sleep shirts herself; then she softly talked about the day’s events until Sora drifted to sleep again.
Finally, when the evil Spirits in her brain began to die, she opened her eyes.
She was alone. Firelight flickered on the wall of weapons above her sleeping bench. The copper studs on the war clubs glinted. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. The air smelled of freshly washed blankets and venison broth. When she turned, she saw the pot bubbling in the ashes at the edge of the hearth. Someone stood outside her door. She could see feet beneath the curtain.
A guard?
Yes, of course, to protect you in case Matron Sea Grass dispatches an assassin to find her son’s killer.
Wink would be leaving nothing to chance. She must have already
sent the fastest runner in town to Oak Leaf Village, hoping to beat the other people who carried news of Skinner’s death.
How long had she been lying here? Days. But how many? Three? Four?
Sora sat up. Her headache was no longer excruciating, but it was still there, throbbing behind her eyes. She massaged her temples with cool fingers. Fortunately the nausea had passed.
She eased forward to sit on the edge of the bench. Dressed in a long blue sleep shirt that brushed her ankles, she looked like she’d lost weight. Bars of ribs pressed against the fabric beneath her breasts, and her gaunt belly resembled a curved hole. But, oddly, the days of pain and meager food had left her vision unusually clear. The worm patterns in the roof beams seemed more beautifully intricate, the smell of the cypress fire particularly fragrant. Were it not for the headache and the fact that she still did not know what had happened the night Skinner died, she would have felt like she’d been reborn.
Why don’t I remember?
Her souls had played out every possible permutation of what might have led to Skinner’s death, but nothing made sense.
She hadn’t given him the poison. She was sure of it. Feather Dancer could be right that when Flint discovered what he’d done, he’d drunk the poison himself, but why would he kill his best friend? Flint’s reflection-soul would never have killed Skinner—he would simply have gone on to the Land of the Dead. And why would Flint’s shadow-soul have killed its own vessel?
Perhaps it had another one.
Her darkest fear was that Teal was right. Flint’s shadow-soul had choked her until she’d blacked out; then it had seeped inside her. She didn’t feel him, but he might be waiting, allowing her fears to subside, before he spoke to her.
The guard outside the door shifted; feet moved beneath the curtain.
Sora rose on wobbly legs and made her way to the fire, where she slumped down on the mat next to the soup pot. Nested ceramic
bowls and buffalo-horn spoons rested on the hearthstone beside the pot. She dipped a bowlful and picked up a spoon. Her hand shook. Half the broth spilled before the spoon reached her mouth, but she kept feeding a ravenous hunger.
By the time she’d finished, cold bumps speckled her flesh. She set the empty bowl down, walked across the chamber to her clothing basket, and pulled out her favorite dress. Made of woven buffalo wool, dyed crimson, it had cost her mother a fortune in Trade pots and colorful fabrics. Sora removed her sleep shirt and slipped the soft garment over her head. The velvety feel against her skin soothed her raw nerves. Hundreds of seed pearls ringed the collar and chevroned the sleeves. The dress accentuated her every curve, forming to her body like a second skin.
She sat down by the fire again. So much was at stake, she had to think. Rockfish had not yet returned. The things he’d taken with him—his pack, bow, and quiver—were still gone. Which meant she couldn’t have been unconscious for more than two or three days. But a good deal might have happened in that interim. She had to contemplate the worst: Wink’s runner had been to Oak Leaf Village and had already returned with a message. What had Sea Grass said? She was a wise old woman, generally thoughtful, but she’d loved her son very much. Perhaps Sea Grass had told Wink to prepare for war. Or worse, maybe they were at war.
“Blessed gods,” she whispered. “I’m such a fool. I didn’t just endanger myself. The entire town may be at risk.”
If Sea Grass attacked them, it would force the other clans to choose sides. The entire nation could fray like cloth left in hot sunlight.
How could she have done this? Had her love for Flint blinded her to the political realities of her position? She was high chieftess of the Black Falcon world. Other people could make mistakes; she couldn’t. From her earliest memories, her mother had imprinted that message on her souls.
“Little Doe can act like a stupid fool. She’s a commoner. People will forgive her for the impetuousness of youth. If you do
the same things she does, people will wrap a rope around your throat and hang you. Never forget that. You are not like other people. You must set the examples for what is right and what is wrong.”
Sora closed her eyes and watched the firelight play on the backs of her lids.
War stared at her from three sides now. They still hadn’t resolved the problems with the Loon People over access to traditional root-gathering grounds; Blue Bow continued to hold eleven of their people hostage. Oak Leaf Village could be massing warriors to avenge Skinner’s death; and Rockfish might return home tomorrow bearing news that his people had committed hundreds to fight an unknown people in a faraway land for a green stone called jade.
“How could you have let things get to this point?”
Her stomach cramped. She lowered a hand to rub it. One thing was certain: She could eliminate the threat from Oak Leaf Village. If she went to Sea Grass and offered her own life, she knew the old matron would accept. She’d probably be tortured for days before they killed her, but her death would pay for the loss of Skinner. The Shadow Rock Clan would have to formally condemn her and declare her Outcast to save itself, but if the alternative was their fall from power, Sora knew she could talk Wink into …
The guard outside said, “Good morning, Matron,” and Sora recognized Feather Dancer’s deep voice.
“How is she?”
“She’s awake. I heard her moving, but she hasn’t come out yet.”
Wink called, “Sora? May I come in?”
“Yes.”
Wink ducked beneath the door curtain wearing a clean tan dress decorated with red starbursts made from porcupine quills. Her graying black hair had been braided and twisted into a bun on top of her head. “How are you?”
Sora heaved a sigh. “I won’t know until you tell me what’s happening.”
Wink came across the floor and sat down on the mat to Sora’s
right. A sheen of perspiration covered her narrow, hooked nose. She looked like she’d just gotten out of heated negotiations. “Sora … I have a question for you. I’m sorry to have to ask it so soon, but—”
“The runner returned from Oak Leaf Village, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t alone. Sea Grass and twenty warriors came with him.”
Twenty was provocative. Sea Grass expected trouble.
“What price is Sea Grass asking?” Sora braced herself. Sea Grass must have come to look straight into the eyes of her son’s killer before she made her decision.
“She’s heartbroken and angry, Sora, but she’s being cautious. She wants proof that her son was infected with Flint’s shadow-soul.”
“Proof? How can we prove it?”
Wink reached out and touched her hand. Her dark eyes narrowed. “She wants you to answer a question.”
“What question?”
Wink was watching her with such intensity that it made dread swell inside Sora. “Sea Grass wants to know if you had received news that Flint was to marry again.”
She couldn’t move. It was as though her body had ceased to exist. “Wh-what?”
“Did you know Flint was getting married?”
Wink straightened and gave her a suspicious look, as though wondering why Sora hadn’t answered the question. “Flint was supposed to wed a young woman named White Fawn on the first day of the Moon of Blossoms.”
“How long did I sleep? I don’t even know what moon it is.”
Wink stared at her. “You slept for two days.”
“But that means …” Her voice faded as the truth dawned.
“Yes, on the day Skinner died Flint was scheduled to marry a fifteen-winters-old woman. Did you know it?”
Sora anxiously twisted her hands in her lap. “No, not—not for
sure. Over a moon ago, a passing Trader mentioned the possibility, but he said it was just a rumor, nothing official had been announced. At the time, I didn’t believe it.”
“What about later?”
They had known each other almost their entire lives. If Sora lied, Wink would see it in a heartbeat.
“I did not
know
he was going to marry,” she answered. “And why would it matter to Sea Grass? What bearing could my knowledge of Flint’s marriage possibly have on Skinner’s death?”
The wrinkles around Wink’s mouth seemed to have frozen, like lines etched in stone. “She thinks you were involved in Flint’s death, as well as White Fawn’s. I told her that was impossible, that you’d been negotiating with Blue Bow at the time, but she—”
“I still don’t understand. Isn’t the issue whether or not I killed Skinner?”
Wink looked away and toyed with the shell bracelet she wore on her left wrist. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“How so?”
“Apparently Flint and Skinner were not out on a scouting expedition to find barbarian Lily People. They’d gone to meet the bridal procession.”
Sora’s mouth went dry. “Why would Skinner have lied about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did they meet the procession?”
“No. White Fawn’s distraught family entered Oak Leaf Village without ever seeing Flint or Skinner. Apparently, White Fawn had been killed and buried on the trail.”
“And Sea Grass believes that I … what?”
Wink turned back with a steely expression. “She’s not sure what to believe. But she’s clearly wondering if you didn’t kill Skinner because he was the only witness to Flint’s death. Or maybe he knew something about White Fawn’s death that you didn’t want known.”
Sickness rose in her throat. She suddenly needed to lie down again. “Is that what you believe, Wink?”
Wink didn’t answer for several agonizing heartbeats. When she did, her voice had gone low. “I believe what the greatest holy man in the Black Falcon Nation tells me.”
Sora cocked her head, not certain she understood.
Wink continued, “Teal saw Flint’s shadow-soul in Skinner’s eyes. He took the only action he could to make sure our people were safe. You were just the tool he used to accomplish the grisly task. So far as I’m concerned, you risked your life to help Teal protect Blackbird Town.”
The loyalty in Wink’s voice struck Sora like a blunt beam in the stomach. She swallowed hard. “Does Sea Grass want to speak with me?”
“She does.” Wink rose to her feet and gently put a hand to Sora’s forehead, testing for fever. “But Teal demanded the right to speak with her first. After she hears his story, if she still wants to talk with you, I’ll make some excuse until you feel strong enough.”
Sora took Wink’s hand and clutched it tightly. “Is everything else all right in town? Any word from Blue Bow or Rockfish?”
“Rockfish sent a runner saying he will be home tonight, but we’ve heard nothing from the Loon People.”
Sora let go of her hand and got to her feet. “I need to rest again. Keep me informed.”
“You know I will.”
Wink walked for the door. As she drew back the curtain, she said, “If you feel well enough, take a walk around your house this afternoon. It will do the villagers good to see you.”
BOOK: It Sleeps in Me
2.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Governess by Evelyn Hervey
Black Milk by Elif Shafak
Storm's Heart by Thea Harrison
Maybe Baby by Andrea Smith