by JR Green
“But they are taboo,” Mintikwa said. “The people have always known they hold bad spirits.”
“It is no longer so,” the Panther said, sinking farther into the water.
“The people have always known them to be poisonous.”
“It is true. They once made people sick, but they finished their purification of the river a generation ago. The river runs purely once again. And now even the mussels are clean,” he added, “The Soulless have known this for some time.”
The Soulless? Mintikwa was surprised to hear the Panther mention their name. He wondered at this but decided not to question the spirit on the matter yet.
“How will I convince the people that it is okay to eat them?”
“They will need to adapt,” Underwater Panther said.
Mintikwa thought about it. The Panther was right. Using the mussels as food was genius if it were true that they were not poisonous. They littered the riverbed. Perhaps they couldn’t subsist on the mussels forever, but they would be enough to see them through the current scarcity of fish. A couple seasons and the drought might end. Eating the mussels would give both game and fish a chance to recover.
Mintikwa nodded. “This makes sense to me now. I understand.” Mintikwa bowed. “Thank you.”
“Eat the mussels, but leave the fish alone,” the Panther said. “The fish will need to recover because the mussels need them.”
Mintikwa was curious to hear about his mussels. “Why do they need fish?” Mintikwa asked.
“Every mussel begins its life on the back of a fish. They live a long time and cover the riverbed now, but eventually, they will need to repopulate. Fish are like mothers to them while they are small. Without them, the mussels you see in the river now will be the last you see.”
“I had no idea,” Mintikwa said.
The Panther grew restless. Mintikwa expected he might disappear at any moment. He thought of other questions, but one, in particular, leaped ahead in his mind. He realized he might never get another chance for an answer to his oldest question. He mustered his courage.
“What happened at the end of the last age?” Mintikwa asked.
“I have answered one question already. I have knowledge of the last age and many before that, but I will only tell you after you do something for me.”
Mintikwa immediately grew wary of what Underwater Panther might ask of him, but the request did seem reasonable. The spirit had already gifted Mintikwa with knowledge about how to stave off the hunger of his people.
“What would you have me do?” he asked.
“A simple thing, really,” the Panther said. “There is a man in the ruins.”
Mintikwa thought of the strange figure that he saw emerge from the building. He was sure who the Panther was referring to.
“I am curious about him,” the Panther said. “And what he is up to.”
“I think I saw him,” Mintikwa said.
Underwater Panther leaned in eagerly. “Did you approach him?”
“No,” Mintikwa said. “He was very strange to me. I ran away.”
The Panther leaned back. “He is not welcome here,” he said. “He pokes his nose where he should not. His motive is still hidden from me. I cannot see what he is about as my powers are still weak. He is too far from the water.”
“You want me to spy on this man?” Mintikwa asked.
“I need you to go and find out what he is doing. Then come back here and tell me of it.”
Mintikwa’s mind winced at the thought of prolonging his stay here. It meant more fasting. It meant he couldn’t get home to Willow or to have a healer tend to his hurt ribs.
But then again, he supposed that if he did this for the Panther, then he would have answers about events long-buried, events that no one knew anymore, knowledge that had died with his father, his grandfather, and his uncle. Mintikwa suspected that it was only known to a select few, the small circle of priests who held power. Perhaps Underwater Panther had knowledge that would be good for the people to understand.
So Mintikwa agreed.
“If I find out what he is up to, then you will tell me all about what happened at the end of the last world?” Mintikwa asked. “About Eddytown?”
“Yes.”
“And you will tell me how we got here?”
“I will.”
“Alright,” Mintikwa said. “Then I will do this for you.”
Mintikwa climbed back into his canoe. His whole body protested, from his toes to the top of his head. With dread, Mintikwa paddled back to the middle of the river. He struggled with the sanity of his decision, an intentional return to the village of stone.
Soon he drifted with ease, so he lifted his paddle from the water. The current took him easily downriver. At least he would have a taste of what it was like to drift home, he thought. All this meant that he would finally be done with his vision quest and have answers to his questions about the last age. Then he could see his home and see Willow.
Mintikwa reached the bridge and quietly beached his canoe. He climbed the bank and approached the stone path which led to the stone village.
Soon he was at the place where he hid in the shadows and saw the strange man. Mintikwa rounded the building and stepped down to where the man had climbed up on the creature before it ran off. Mintikwa found the faint trail of the creature’s hooves and set out after them.
Mintikwa had thought the bridge was weird. Now that he was trailing the man through the stone village, he saw what weird really meant. He saw strands of zigzagging material, with surfaces that reflected like that of still waters. He passed them by as quietly as he could.
A crow called from high in the sky. Mintikwa shielded his eyes with his hand and looked skyward. He searched for the bird. It would likely be in the air above him, but the sky was empty.
More crows cawed.
They were in the buildings, near the top. What were they doing? Then it occurred to him that they must be nesting. So, the birds felt safe enough to nest in the strange buildings.
He supposed that whoever built the structures were a people numbering far beyond anything he could imagine. Where were they today? Did they die off? Did disease strike them down? Was there a war? Or did they just pick up and leave? Mintikwa decided they must have either just left this place, or if they had died here, someone would have had to bury their bodies because there were no remains. Otherwise, if it were war, Mintikwa expected he would see the signs of it around him. True, the structures were damaged, but the damage seemed to be the slow decay of the forest’s reclamation. Most of all, Mintikwa was amazed by the prevalence of stone. It was everywhere. The buildings were made of it, and since leaving the river, Mintikwa’s feet had been on the strange surface the whole time. Not once had he walked on the earth.
Mintikwa walked on for a long while. He had become lost in contemplation when he rounded the corner of a tall building. He was in full view when he found the beast that the man rode. It stood in the shade, again eating a tuft of grass poking out of the stone walkway. It caught sight of him, and immediately its head shot up. Startled, it jumped and shifted its weight. It watched Mintikwa warily as he ducked back into the shadows. Mintikwa hid for a moment out of sight but then chanced a look around the corner. The strange man had emerged from the building. He was looking directly at Mintikwa, or rather in his direction. Mintikwa ducked back instantly and cursed himself for being so irresponsible. He looked about and saw nowhere to go. If he emerged from the shadows, he would be exposed. He looked up over his shoulder at the building above him. One of the dark holes was just above his head within reach. He could climb up and into the structure. Mintikwa shuddered at the thought of going back inside the belly of one of these giants. He had gotten used to walking outside of them, but going inside was another matter. The beast bellowed. It was a nervous sound. It echoed from the walls of the stone village. Then he heard the hollow clicking sounds of approaching footsteps. If he didn’t move now, he would be caught.
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nbsp; Mintikwa leaped from the shadows, arched up over the ledge, and disappeared into the black interior of the giant house.
As he crouched down and waited, he heard the man walk by outside. If he hadn’t moved, he’d be caught now. He listened for any signs that the man entered the building too. Long moments passed, and nothing came. Then he heard the sounds of the man walking away.
Mintikwa breathed a sigh of relief. He peered around the interior of the giant. He had thought the outside was strange. Inside was truly otherworldly! There were things innumerable and so bizarre that Mintikwa couldn’t even guess their meaning or purpose.
All was quiet for a long while. The sun had started its descent when Mintikwa decided he should move. He needed to get at why the man was here. To try and figure out what it was that this strange human was up to.
He crept out of the shadows of the building. The strange man had indeed left. Mintikwa quietly crossed the sunlit open space. He pressed up against the building where the man had entered. He found a door. Mintikwa closed his eyes, said a prayer of protection, drew a deep breath, and darted into the shadows. He took cover immediately inside. His eyes adjusted to the dimness. He listened. It was very quiet, but soon he heard a faint sound coming from somewhere deep in the bowels of this giant. The man seemed to be working at something. Mintikwa waited a while to make sure the sound was consistent and coming from the same place. Then he followed the sound to its source. He came to a door that had at its top more of the clear mirror-like material he saw on the way here. Mintikwa realized he could see inside through the door, so he peered in.
The man was inside an illuminated room. He held a torch of the most peculiar flame Mintikwa had ever seen. It was bright white, not the familiar yellow, orange, or red of the fires from home. It did not flicker but remained constant. It was much like how daylight illuminated the world. It was as if this man held sunlight in his hands.
He set it down, and it bathed the room in light. He picked up a tiny stick and, bending over something, began to scratch at its surface with the stick.
Suddenly, the man pulled something from his side. He held it to his head and talked to it briefly. Another voice filled the air, seemingly coming from the thing he held in his hand. He put it back at his side, turned to the surface again, and scratched a little bit more. Then he set it down and moved toward the door. He was coming straight for Mintikwa. He ducked down and shifted to the side. The door flew open, smacking Mintikwa in the knees. He cringed against the pain. Luckily, the strange man hadn’t noticed. He ran out and disappeared the way Mintikwa had come.
The man left his torch. Its light illuminated the ground. Mintikwa was curious. He ducked into the room. He just wanted a quick look at the flame. The torch lay on a table. It shone a brilliant white over its surface. Mintikwa moved in.
He realized that the brilliant white color was not just in the light but also in something on the bench.
Mintikwa saw markings. They were scratched into a white surface lying on the bench. It occurred to Mintikwa that the markings were like those that he saw on their map. They were on some kind of white material. He picked it up. It was impossibly thin. Mintikwa held it up between thumb and finger, puzzling over its perfect shape. It felt as light as a feather. Even the material reminded Mintikwa of the maps that Jumping Frog had shown him. He held it with two hands and stared at the symbols. They had no meaning that he could tell. They weren’t like rivers or confluences or headwaters. He decided it wasn’t a map.
As he stared at the symbols, he began to see where the man had made his markings. These were meaningless as well, but Mintikwa suspected they must be important. He had even made a circle around them. If Underwater Panther saw these, he would surely know what the man was doing here. Mintikwa thought of taking it. But it would surely be missed. Mintikwa wanted to leave this place and not be followed. Perhaps he could memorize the signs or at least some of them. Mintikwa concentrated on the symbols within the circle. He would draw them in the sand to show the Panther. Perhaps he would know what they meant. Maybe it would be enough for him to understand what this strange man was up to. Mintikwa studied them for long moments, but the markings were so weird when he averted his eyes, their shapes escaped him. He continued trying to memorize them.
It was sometime later when Mintikwa’s mind began to wander. What time of day was it? Had the sun reached the top of the sky? He realized he had no idea. Mintikwa decided he had had enough. He would do the best he could in describing them to the Panther. He left the dark room, but as he crept to the entrance, he heard hooves, a great many hooves. He sprinted back into the room. He thought the light might give him away. Instinctively, he grabbed it and slammed it on the bench. It was not hot. The torch wasn’t even warm. The white light flickered all over the room. He hit it again. Mintikwa heard voices now. They were coming his way, speaking a strange language, not in the least bit like his own. He struck the torch again. Something clicked, and everything went black.
They were just outside the door. Soon Mintikwa’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. First, he could see shapes. Then as his eyes grew more accustomed to the dim light, he could see almost everything in the room. He thought of the symbols on the bench above his head. Could he see them in this twilight?
Mintikwa shuffled along the bench until he reached the place where the skin with its strange markings lay. He groped at the surface above him, trying to stay hidden until he found the skin. He pulled it down to the ground. It was impossibly thin, and the edges were perfectly shaped. He lifted the surface to his eyes. Faintly, the shapes of the markings came into view. He began to study them again.
Mintikwa waited in the dimness. He remained still for a long time. The strangers continued talking for what seemed like the rest of the day. They worked somewhere out there. Luckily they hadn’t come back into the place where he hid. Why hadn’t the man retrieved his torch? Perhaps he forgot about it. Maybe he had another.
From time to time, Mintikwa examined the white skin and the strange, meaningless markings, and slowly they took hold in his mind until finally, he imagined that he could draw them in the sand.
At times, he thought the people had left, but then one of them would make some noise, either speaking or moving about. His hiding place reminded him of a cave. The lack of forest sounds was deafening. Somewhere out there, frogs croaked among the cattails. Mourning doves cooed and cicadas trilled from the trees. The silence rang in his ears. Again, complete blackness cloaked Mintikwa. He thought of the torch in his hands with its brilliant light. He began toying with it. Suddenly its flame burst forth into the room. Mintikwa cupped it instinctively, then recoiled for fear of it burning him. Repeatedly, the room shifted from blackness to illumination until Mintikwa realized again that the torch did not burn, even when he covered it with his bare hand. He pressed his palm against it. The room fell dark and stayed that way. Mintikwa held his breath, expecting the people to come crashing in on his hiding place. Moments passed, but they never came. Mintikwa’s pulse eased up. He became aware of the torch pressed against his palm. He lifted his hands and shifted his finger over it. It glowed red. The room glowed as if it were twilight. Mintikwa realized that he could control the level of light. He heard voices again. He waited, but they never came. He used the light in his palm to continue his examination of the markings.
Mintikwa heard a sound at the door. He looked down at the skin in his hands. Perhaps someone was coming for it. Mintikwa rose up on his knees and placed it back where he found it, just in time because a moment later, the door opened, and light filled the room once again. Mintikwa dropped down and kept still. Footsteps echoed through the room. They were coming his way. Voices called out to one another as they approached Mintikwa, loud and peppered with sharp laughter. He heard a shuffling sound just above his head. It was the skin. The man must have come back for it. Mintikwa heard footsteps again, but this time they were fading away, walking back to the door. The room fell into darkness again, and Mintikwa breathed a s
igh of relief. He chanced a look at the table. The skin with the strange markings was gone. Taking it would have been a bad idea. Mintikwa was glad he put it back.
Much later, he grew weary. He fought to keep his eyes open. Falling asleep in here would be a terrible idea, he decided. The strangers outside seemed to be gone. Perhaps they were sleeping.
Mintikwa decided to chance an escape.
He carefully opened the door and crept out of the room.
Still, there was no sign of them. He made for the entrance. When he emerged, he could see that night had fallen. The moon had risen about halfway up in the sky.
Mintikwa left the village of stone. He crossed the bridge, climbed down the riverbank, got in his canoe, and paddled back to Wildcat Cove.
The Panther was nowhere to be found. Mintikwa called out across the waters, shouting the name of the god of the underworld.
Everything was quiet.
He sat down by the creek and rested. He dozed in the moonlight but soon grew restless. He was anxious to see Underwater Panther, to tell him about what the strange people were doing, and draw the markings in the sand. Perhaps the Panther would know what they meant. Then Mintikwa could finally hear about what happened at the end of the fifth world. He decided maybe an offering would draw the spirit forth, so he burned some of the sage.
No luck. He tried tobacco. Still nothing. Then he tried the red willow bark.
The waters stirred. The Panther emerged.
“You really like red willow,” Mintikwa said. He thought of his friend. If it weren’t for her insisting on cutting some of the plant branches, the Panther might never have emerged.
“Yes,” Underwater Panther said. The scent is irresistible.”
Mintikwa stood and walked to the water’s edge.
“Did you find him?”
Mintikwa nodded. “I followed the path deep into the stone village.”
“Good,” the Panther said. “Did you see what he was doing?”
“I did. He was inside one of the giant buildings. It was dark inside—black as night. I had to feel my way in. Then it grew light again, but it was not the sun. The man had a torch that was like daylight.”