Heart of Ice
Page 3
***
When Ice woke, blue light peeped from under his window shade and he could hear his mom moving about. The squeak of the shower knob revealed that she'd just gotten up and was getting ready to go to work. He remained in bed for a few more minutes, reluctant to leave the warm covers, but the smell of coffee had roused his senses and his rumbling stomach refused to let him fall back to sleep.
After breakfast at Nik's yesterday, Ice had texted his mom that he was back and then crashed. When she came home from work, his mom roused him for dinner and he'd watched a bit of TV before crawling back into bed.
A smile lit his mom's face when she saw him sitting at the kitchen table. "Caught up on your sleep?" she asked.
Ice shook his head. "Never enough sleep." He let a smile escape when she laughed.
"How about breakfast?"
"Mom, I can feed myself. Don’t be late for work."
She poured coffee into her travel mug. "So what do you have going on today?"
Ice shrugged. "The usual. You know, check in with Nik. He's usually in his office early." He caught the look on her face and added, "And homework."
"Yes," she said firmly. "I hope you'll have some time for calculus today." She shrugged into her coat, making sure Ice met her gaze. "Just because you've been accepted at the University of Minnesota, doesn't mean you can slack off. They expect you to complete your high school courses." She pulled gloves from her pockets and slid her hands inside.
"I know, Mom. I'll work on it."
"Okay." She kissed him on top of his head. "Have a good day. Keep me in the loop."
"Yeah, yeah," he said with a smile.
Half an hour later, with food in his belly and caffeine in his bloodstream, Ice felt pretty good as he slicked his hands across his scalp to squeeze the excess water from his hair. When his skin was dry, he stepped from the shower and rubbed the towel on his head to dry his hair. He knew short hair would be easier, but he liked to wear his black hair a little longer—at least past his jawbone. Somehow, it seemed to make up for his unusual eyes, fragmented into blue-gray chips. Everything else about him—his copper skin, strong nose, prominent jaw line, and wide shoulders—labeled him as Native American.
He didn't mind the blue eyes he inherited from his mother, and certainly owed nothing to his absentee father, but as an apprentice medicine man, Ice embraced his Native American heritage.
It hadn't snowed again since the last night of his vision quest, so the roads were clear, making it a quick drive to the tribal council building. Hearing Nik on the phone in his office, Ice paused in the doorway, but his mentor glanced up and motioned him into the room. A tall bookcase occupied the right wall, loaded with books, journals, and papers. On the left, a two-drawer credenza supplied a base for a shorter set of shelves populated with colored stones, painted sticks, colorful woven objects adorned with feathers, strings of beads, and other ceremonial paraphernalia. "Right. I know," the older man said. "But we have to check it out."
Ice sat in one of the chairs facing Nik's vintage steel desk, wishing he'd caught the subject of the conversation. Nik eyeballed him with his finger held up in the 'one minute' gesture, and Ice bobbed his head in acknowledgement. His gaze shifted to the picture on the wall behind Nik. The framed photo was of an owl caught fluffing his feathers out—perhaps to look more menacing or more likely, to keep warm—either way, Ice knew the meaning behind the picture. Nik's late wife had purchased it for him since his name, Niski’gwun, meant “Ruffled Feathers.”
Ice mused that someday he might have a wife who bought him a photo of cracked and fragmented ice to depict his own name: Shattered Ice.
"Okay," Nik said into the phone. "Look, Ice is here. I'll let you know what we decide to do or if we learn anything else."
Ice raised his eyebrows. The medicine man was ending a conversation to confer with him?
Nik stood as he ended the call. "Come on," he motioned with his hand. "It's still early. I need more coffee." He lowered his voice as they entered the hallway. "None of the neighboring medicine societies seem to know anything about the North Wind, but that isn't what concerns me most right now."
"What's going on?" Ice asked.
As they entered the break room, Nik gave Ice a look that said they'd finish their conversation later. Then he said, "Morning Ariel."
A slender woman in her thirties turned away from the coffee maker with a smile. "Morning Nik," she said. Then her eyes shifted to Ice. "Ice. Always nice to see you."
"Hello, Mrs. Wood," Ice replied, moving out of her way.
She stopped in the doorway for a moment and looked back at Ice. "You know, Mrs. Wood still sounds like my mother-in-law. I think you're old enough to call me Ariel." She laughed. "Please?"
Ice felt a blush creeping up his neck. "I'll try to remember," he said and managed an awkward smile. Get it together, he admonished himself as she disappeared around the corner. Sure, Ariel was pretty, but she was at least twenty years his senior—and married!
Nik poured coffee into his mug, the corners of his mouth quirked into an amused grin.
Ice took a paper cup from a stack and set it next to Nik's mug. "Thanks," he said as his teacher filled the cup. He sidestepped to examine the contents of a white box on the counter. "Bagels," Ice announced, then snapped a plastic lid on his coffee.
"After our discussion yesterday," Nik began in a low voice, "I did a little asking around—inquiring about any unusual activity in this area." He craned his neck toward the box of bagels, pressed his lips into a line as he scanned the selection, and then moved in the opposite direction to pick up the powdered creamer.
Ice slid his gaze to the medicine man for a moment before returning his attention to the bagels. "And?"
"This is one time when it would be to our advantage if you attended the public high school." Nik stirred his coffee.
Ice paused to gape at his mentor, his hand poised over a bagel. Nik had insisted Ice be homeschooled once he finished elementary school, to accommodate his training.
Nik caught the look and grunted. "Only because an incident happened at the school yesterday and all I'm getting is hearsay or a second-hand account."
"What happened?" Ice finished smearing cream cheese on his bagel and pressed the two halves together.
Once Nik confirmed they were in the hallway alone, he replied. "Sounds like a teacher flipped out, made some bizarre and inappropriate comments."
"Bizarre? Like what?"
Two men rounded the corner ahead so the medicine man withheld his answer until he and Ice entered his office. "That's the problem," he said, rounding to the far side of his desk, "there are so many rumors flying around, I can't be sure what's true." He bobbed his chin with a pointed look at the door and his apprentice swung it shut behind him. "My source said the behavior was way off the normal scale for this guy."
Ice set his coffee and bagel on Nik's desk and scooted a chair close enough to reach them. "I play hockey at the high school. I could ask some questions in the locker room."
Nik shrugged. "It can't hurt."
Ice sipped his coffee considering the small amount of guys that made up the hockey team. Suddenly he sat up straight. "The dance," he said, causing Nik to regard him with raised eyebrows. "I'm going to a dance on Friday; kids might be talking about it there. Or I can try to get them talking about it."
His mentor smiled. "Good idea, Ice. The social setting is perfect. If you can manage, try to isolate the comments or accounts from kids who were actually there—assuming you run into one of them."
Ice chewed a bite of bagel and enjoyed the surge of pleasure brought on by Nik's words. Then, just as quickly, the feeling was eradicated as a seed of apprehension sprouted in his gut. This was his first date with Lynn and he'd just agreed to encourage gossip, which couldn't be more unlike him.
His misgivings must've showed on his face because Nik said, "No pressure Ice, I realize this is an outside chance; any information you gather will be helpful."
I have seen that in any great undertaking it is not enough for a man to depend simply upon himself.
Lone Man (Isna-la-wica), Teton Sioux