The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries (37 page)

Read The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries Online

Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries
3.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Stewart was still studying the child’s face when Maureen bent and took a close look at the femoral neck. Using her hand lens, she squinted in the poor light, studying the bone’s exterior, then stopped short. “My, my, look at this.”
“What?” He put the skull fragment down and dropped one knee onto the booth’s padded seat beside her.
She used her bamboo pick to indicate the irregular grooves that incised the bone just under the femoral neck and above the trochanters. “That’s where you cut to sever the ligaments.” She turned the bone, exposing the round ball of the femoral head to the light. At the top, where the tendon inserted, the bone was marred, as if it had been sawed at. “I’d say they cut the teres tendon.” She looked up. “My first guess, based on the diameter of the shaft, and the smooth surface of the
linea aspera
, is that this is a woman. From the light weight, compared to bone size, I’d say an old woman.”
She paused to get his full attention. “Dusty, someone cut this woman apart
before
the kiva burned. An adult femur, surrounded by thick muscle, would not have burned away in mid-shaft.”
He looked at her intently. “What does that mean?”
“I’m saying that someone threw those bones on the kiva roof before it burned. She was disarticulated—cut apart—and then her bones were scattered over the roof. The only reason we have this section of bone is that a child’s body was lying on top of it, protecting it from the heat.”
Dusty slid into the booth beside her, forcing her to move over, and took the bone from her hand. “So the children were marched to the roof and forced to stand in the middle of the bloody bones of one of their elders?”
Maureen sank back against the seat. “That’s what it looks like.”
T
HE RITUAL JEWELRY ON THE PEOPLE IN THE PLAZA winked as they turned to watch Browser pass. He refused to meet their eyes. He walked purposefully, hoping no one would stop him to offer condolences, or to question him about the murder. He was dead tired and needed to be alone.
Ant Woman’s words had stirred his souls. Flame Carrier’s marriage to Pigeontail disturbed him. If Ant Woman was right, then by the time of the marriage, Flame Carrier must have been greatly revered by her people. She could have had her choice of powerful and esteemed men. Why would Spider Silk order her to marry a young lowly Trader?
A man in a yellow cape took a step toward Browser with his mouth open, and Browser held up a hand and shook his head.
The man called, “Perhaps later, War Chief?”
“Yes. Thank you for your understanding.”
The unknown man turned back to his friends.
Browser watched his feet. Stone Ghost and Redcrop spoke softly behind him, but he ignored their words. His own mother had ordered him to marry Ash Girl, but he had understood her reasons. Spider Silk’s order made no sense.
Children sat with their backs to the western wall, plucking food from the array of baskets, stew pots hanging from tripods, and platters of fried breads. Most of the village elders had gathered on the roof of the great kiva. The drying ears of corn had been stacked around the rim of the roof, creating a speckled, many-colored circle four hands high. Wading Bird’s scratchy old voice carried, then he laughed.
Springbank shoved through the crowd, his age-spotted face taut, his toothless mouth sucked in as though he was upset. He wore a beautiful white ritual cape covered with glistening circlets of seashells. He called, “War Chief?”
Browser stopped. This one, he could not refuse. “Yes, Elder?”
“Have you seen Obsidian?”
“No, Elder. Why?”
Anger strained his ancient face. “Ant Woman asked me to make certain that Obsidian remembers she is bringing food to the tower kiva for the children tonight, but I haven’t seen her since midday. Nor has anyone else. Where can she be?”
Browser shrugged. Fatigue made him less cautious than he would ordinarily have been. He said: “She tells me nothing, Elder. She turns even simple questions like ‘Where were you born?’ into a game. Perhaps that’s what she’s doing today. Playing a game of hide-and-seek.”
Springbank balled his fists and drew them beneath his cape. “As for where she was born, she once told me she was born here. As for whether or not she’s playing a game, I promise to find out. If you see her, tell her we have things to discuss, and I want her to come to me immediately.”
“Yes, Elder.”
Springbank dipped his head to Stone Ghost, then marched across the plaza like a warrior on a mission.
“War Chief?” Redcrop called.
Browser turned. “Yes?”
“If you are finished with me, I think I will start sorting through the Matron’s things, trying to decide what she would wish people to have.”
“You are free to go, Redcrop. Thank you for accompanying us to speak with Ant Woman.”
Stone Ghost reached out and lightly placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come for me if you need help. I did not know her as you did, but I can carry things and place them where you tell me to.”
Her pretty face looked pale and gaunt. “Thank you, Elder, but you must have many more important things to do. Straighthorn told me he would help me tonight.”
Browser said, “I saw him go into his chamber just before I went to fetch you from the burial. I think he’s still there.”
Redcrop turned toward the ground-floor room where Straighthorn lived at the base of the tower kiva. Water Snake stood guard on the kiva roof. He held his war club in his hand. “I do not wish to disturb Straighthorn if he is sleeping. He has to stand guard from midnight to dawn.”
Browser said, “He’s spent most of the day in his chamber, Redcrop. I suspect he’s slept for several hands of time. Why don’t you go and see.”
She smiled. “Yes, thank you. I will. I wish you both a pleasant burial feast.”
“And you, also,” Stone Ghost said.
They watched Redcrop make her way through the crowd toward Straighthorn’s chamber. Several people stopped her to speak with her.
Stone Ghost looked at Browser from the corner of his eye. Wind Baby’s voice had eased to a whisper, fluttering people’s capes and tousling their hair. Stone Ghost kept his voice down. “Pigeontail seems an odd choice, doesn’t he, Nephew? Is that what you were thinking?”
Browser nodded. “Yes, Uncle.”
As the afternoon light swelled, slow and gold, over the village, the walls shimmered.
Stone Ghost said, “You should try to rest for as long as you can. People will be clamoring to speak with you when the nightly Dances begin.”
“I know, Uncle.”
Every bit of his strength had been focused upon organizing their guards to best protect the surviving villagers and guests, while at the same time struggling to understand why their Matron had been murdered, and by whom. All the while, the mystery of Aspen village lay buried in his souls. Weariness had numbed his wits as well as his body. He needed rest.
“I will speak with you later, Nephew,” Stone Ghost said, and he hobbled across the plaza for the great kiva.
Wading Bird, Cloudblower, and the other elders sat in the center with blankets clutched about their shoulders. Another thirty people crouched around them, listening to the tales they told. In the sky above the elders, flocks of Cloud People billowed, glowing the purest white Browser had ever seen.
He glanced over his shoulder toward Catkin’s chamber. She would be sound asleep by now. He wished she’d heard the conversation with Ant Woman, but he would tell her every detail later. With everything that had been happening, he’d had little time to really sit and talk with her. He missed the soft sound of her voice.
Browser walked toward his chamber. As he slipped beneath his door curtain, the sweetness of blazing star petals struck him. He glanced around at the darkness. Had she been here?
“Obsidian?”
A shadow moved on his bedding hides, and in the light that streamed around his door curtain, he caught a glimmer of blue dress. A hundred tiny jeweled pins winked through her hair as she lazily rolled to her back.
Browser stiffened. For an instant he thought she was Ash Girl, his dead wife—and it wasn’t the first time that had happened. Three or four times in the past nine moons he’d caught himself replacing Obsidian’s face with Ash Girl’s. He shook himself and clenched his fists. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, War Chief.”
“Why?”
She stretched like a bobcat in warm sunlight, her arms over her head, her back arching, forcing her full breasts to strain against the fabric of her dress. “You know why.”
Browser hesitated, then removed his cape under that dark intense gaze and hung it on the peg by the door. “You have been dogging my steps for moons, Obsidian. No matter where I am, I expect to see you watching me. Do I entertain you that much?”
“Let us speak for a time, Browser. Perhaps we can overcome this—this unpleasantness.”
“I don’t think so, Obsidian. And if I were you, I would rush outside. Elder Springbank is searching for you, and he isn’t happy. He told me to tell you he has things to discuss with you and wishes to see you immediately.”
She waved a hand. “He is never happy with me. He spends half his days watching me like a hawk, and the other half ordering me about as though I were his daughter, or worse, his slave. The old man can wait.”
She tipped her chin and gazed at him with those warm black eyes, and Browser had to fight to control his emotions. He genuinely disliked her, but that meant nothing to his body. His manhood responded to her beauty whether he wished it to or not.
“All right,” he said, exhaling hard. “I grant you one finger of time. But speak quickly.”
Browser walked to his warming bowl in the middle of the room
and pulled a twig from the woodpile. As he laid it on the coals, smoke drifted up. He lightly blew on the fresh tinder. It took a few moments for the twig to catch, then a pale wavering light flickered over the white walls, and danced in her black eyes.
She said, “I heard that you asked Straighthorn about me.” Browser didn’t look up, but he wondered at that. He doubted Straighthorn had told her about their conversation. Calmly, he answered, “You have a mysterious background, Obsidian.”
“Is that what Straighthorn told you?”
“He told me that twenty-five summers ago your mother married a Longtail man named Shell Ring. After his death, Crossbill adopted you and your mother into the clan. You were seven at the time.”
She propped herself up on one elbow, and a wealth of thick hair tumbled around her shoulders. “Straighthorn had not even been born yet. How would he know?”
Sparks crackled and whirled through the air that separated them.
Browser replied, “People hear stories, Obsidian. He’s lived in the same village as you for sixteen summers.”
“Few people speak about those days. I’m surprised he knows that much.”
“Why does no one speak of it? How long were you married to Ten Hawks?”
Her graceful brows lifted. “How long were you married to Ash Girl?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“But ‘people hear stories,’ War Chief. I would like to know. How long?”
Grudgingly, he said, “Five summers. We—”
“You lived with her for five summers and did not know she had a monster soul inside her?” Her eyes gleamed at his expression. The words affected him like the blows of a war club. She’d done it deliberately, taking control of the conversation. “You must have seen it peeking out at you when you fought with her.”
Browser toyed with the woodpile, rearranging the twigs. “I suppose, but I did not realize what I was seeing, Obsidian.”
With mock compassion, she said, “Poor Browser. He didn’t have the courage to gaze into the murderous eyes of the woman he loved.”
Browser gave her a thin smile. “Feel better?”
“A bit.”
“Good. I’ve answered some questions for you. Now do me the same honor. I am confused by the stories your people tell about you. When we first arrived, Crossbill told me that you were not human, that you had flown down from the skyworld as a meteorite. She said that your mother had caught you, and when she opened her hands, she found a baby girl there.”
Obsidian rolled to her side to face him. “Yes, my mother told me the same ridiculous story.”
Browser tilted his head. “Did you ask her about your father?” She toyed with the hide. “Of course I asked. Many times. She would tell me nothing, and I could see the pain in her eyes when she spoke of him.”
“Do you recall him at all?”
Obsidian ran a jeweled hand through her long hair and her voice turned soft. “Sometimes. But I’m not sure if they are real memories or the longings of a lonely child for a father.”
Browser added another twig to the fire. “What do you recall?” “In my dreams, I often feel hands upon me, smoothing my skin like warm fur. I think they are his hands.”
Browser looked up sharply. “I don’t understand.”
She rose to her knees, tipped her chin up, and closed her eyes. “Like this,” she whispered.
She ran her hands over her arms and throat, as though showing him her dreams, then her hands moved lower. She caressed her breasts and let her fingers slowly glide down her narrow waist to her groin. It was the most sensual display Browser had ever seen. Even if he had wished to, he could not have taken his eyes from her.
“Obsidian—”
She opened her eyes. “You asked if I recalled anything about him. That is what I remember.”
He paused, not certain if he should make the accusation. “ … Incest ?”
“No, I don’t think so. I only recall his hands. If he’d taken me, I think I would recall much more. Wouldn’t you?”
Browser inclined his head. “I don’t know. I’ve heard that children often don’t recall such violations.”
She lay back down and curled on her side on his buffalo hide, watching him with onyx eyes. “Because your wife didn’t?”
Browser clenched his fists. “Yes. That is one reason.”
Her gaze moved leisurely, tracing the line of his broad shoulders, then his chest, and finally dropping to his manhood. She moaned softly. Without taking her gaze from him, she stood and walked around the fire toward him.
He lurched to his feet.
As though reaching for a frightened child, Obsidian extended her hands until her fingers almost touched his knotted stomach muscles. The firelight glimmered through her magnificent hair. “Take my hands. It is not as difficult as you imagine, War Chief.”
“I don’t wish this, Obsidian.”

Other books

Fates' Folly by Ella Norris
Under Fallen Stars by Odom, Mel
Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead
Private Wars by Greg Rucka
Rough Road by Vanessa North
The Spoilers / Juggernaut by Desmond Bagley
Just a Taste by Deirdre Martin