Coyote's Daughter Page 13

  I laughed in Shriveled Corn Man's face, and grinned to see him step back in surprise. "Then you made another mistake, didn't you? Ash didn't have the oxuwah then, I did. You didn't even think of me until later. If you had tried then and there to take it from me, I might have given it up. Who knows?"

  His lip curled up in a snarl. I knew I had scored a point, and continued on.

  "A fairly major oversight on your part. Potentially critical, could have really messed up all those years of planning. But, what's done is done, right?"

  His face reddened, the veins bulged in his forehead, and I wondered, through my terror, if he could have a heart attack in the middle of this. Would that mean I won? I continued pushing him, unsure what else to do.

  "Old man, I don't think you have anything but bluster. Do you have fine control? Can you work the subtle magics? Can you change into something small?"

  "Why would I fritter at my time and power with such minor enchantments? And why should I do anything further for you?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  "What?" I froze. He had called my bluff. From the beginning, I had been afraid he would demand to see my magic, to know the strength of my pinang. I had hoped I could keep him off balance long enough to find an opening, a way to destroy him before he noticed. But now it was too late.

  "I have shown you already what I can do, the breadth and depth of my powers. I have told you my story. But you have shown me nothing of your skills, of your abilities. It is your turn, girl child."

  I thought frantically. What could I do? I mentally rummaged through the contents of my backpack. Pens, my journal, the compass, things from class . . .

  "Fire. You summoned lightning from the sky. I can call down the fire."

  He merely raised an eyebrow, and nodded for me to continue.

  I dumped my backpack upside down, scattering everything and pulled the magnifying glass out from the pile and tore paper from my journal. I crumpled up the thin sheets, looked at the sun, and held the glass between them.

  My stomach clenched for long minutes, as I watched for any signs of success, terrified I would fail, desperate not to lose in this gamble. Shriveled Corn Man had paced away from me, bored and impatient, when the first darkened area appeared on the paper. The smoldering black ring burst into flame, and I lowered the magnifying glass, triumphant.

  The old sorcerer looked unconvinced. "Your power appears reluctant, but I grant you a victory here. The fire did come. Your enemies must be very slow though!" He laughed, and I shuddered. Everything had to be a weapon for him.

  "Show me something else, something faster this time!" His high-pitched laugh rang out, and I shuddered at the sound as my mind raced.

  I glanced down to where the contents of my pack lay spilled on the desert floor. I grabbed a plastic prism, left over from last year's science class, stuffed in a side pocket at the end of the semester and forgotten.

  "A rainbow. I can make a rainbow appear at my command."

  "What?" Shriveled Corn Man tilted his head, unclear of what I meant.

  "The bridge of colors that shines in the sky after the rain." I looked about. A few clouds hung high in the sky, but no chance of rain for the afternoon. "I can make one appear right now, on the ground, without waiting for the rain to come."

  He snorted.

  I rotated the prism slowly, searching for the best angle to make the sunlight split into bands. The flash of color on the ground startled us both, then faded away.

  "Your magic is weaker than I thought, child. If you cannot hold the spell, I will not judge this a success, and our contest will be over."

  I looked up, and saw the cloud covering the sun had almost passed.

  "Just a minute, I'll get it back."

  And I did. The rainbow the prism cast on the ground held solid and bright for long minutes until I lowered my arm, trembling.

  "Enough. Now, I've shown you my powers. You have left my last challenge unanswered."

  "That would be a third act of power from me." Shriveled Corn Man countered. "If you want to see that, you must perform one more trick, and make it a good one. So far your pinang seems weak to me."

  My mind lay empty, entirely out of ideas. I looked at the last few items scattered on the ground, hoping for inspiration. The small packet of salt I had taken from the village tickled a faint memory; a stunt Aunt Judy's husband Doug always did at family potlucks. I didn't know if I could pull the trick off, but I couldn't think of anything more impressive. If it worked.

  "I need a moment to prepare, and I need a fly." I looked up at him and tried to raise an eyebrow. "Could you be troubled to fetch one for me?"

  Shriveled Corn Man shook his head. "Tell me why I should bother?"

  I willed my voice not to shake. "I can bring the dead back to life. Would that be good enough to get you to do one more trick for me?"

  He nodded. "Fair enough. You'll have your fly, and one more chance."

  I opened the packet of salt, and piled the grains into a small mound. When I finished I looked up, and Shriveled Corn Man stood before me with one hand outstretched.

  "Your fly. Are you prepared?"

  My mouth suddenly dry, I could only nod. I swallowed until I could speak again. "Put the fly in here." I held out my half empty water bottle.

  He dropped it in, and I cringed as I closed the cap. If I understood how to do this, if I could make the trick work, everything would be fine. If not, I would feel terrible, even for a fly.

  I turned the bottle end over end, making sure the water kept the fly covered. Before long it stopped flapping, stopped moving at all. I counted to ten to be sure the fly had drowned, and then drained the bottle into my hand. The fly lay in my palm without a single sign of life.

  "Old man, would you agree this fly is dead?"

  He poked it, but no response. He touched the wings, but they remained still. Surely if the fly lived it would have flitted far away.

  He waited to see if there would be any reaction. At length he nodded. "It is dead. I agree."

  "So now we bury it." I made a small hole in the mound of salt with my finger, then gently placed the fly in the hole and covered it with the salt.

  "You may not like it, but we have to wait a while. This is serious magic, and will not be rushed."

  Shriveled Corn Man looked at the mound of salt with its grisly occupant, then back at me. "I will wait, but only for a short time."

  We didn't speak, just looked out across the land. I tried to remember how long my uncle had waited for this stage of the trick to work, but I had never paid close attention. Now I wished I had.

  I cast sideways glances towards the salt pile, and finally saw the damp mound had crusted over.

  "Now, now it is ready."

  Shriveled Corn Man turned to look, and I held my breath as I delicately broke open the mound.

  One chip. Another tiny hole. Then the fly sprung forth and buzzed between us before darting off into the brush. I let out my breath, relieved beyond belief that the salt had done its work, had drawn the water out of the fly's body just like Uncle Doug said it would.

  Shriveled Corn Man sat still, his mouth open. I knew I had to press my point home, or lose the advantage.

  "Now. Are we agreed? I've performed three times, done three wonders for you. By your own saying, you agree to another show of power, do you not?"

  He nodded.

  "I won't ask for anything much. I just wonder if you could be a mouse, small and quick?"

  "Of course I can. You wouldn't ask for anything more impressive? The cougar, bring in the rain, make night from day?"

  "No, I'm sure you can do big, showy things. But, surely you're not planning to stop with one little village, are you? You'll need to be a master of the fine spell, the subtle magic, not just throwing your power around like a child having a tantrum." I saw my words hit home.

  "A mouse."

  "Show me a mouse, perfect in every detail."

  And he did it. The change was the most amaz
ing thing I'd ever seen. He folded in on himself and became the most beautiful little mouse, with a sleek dun colored coat and shiny black eyes, and a pink squiggle of a tail.

  "Not bad."

  A squeak of protest. I think he expected higher praise.

  "Come here. I think you've almost done it, but there's something wrong with your left back foot."

  He spun in place, trying to see it clearly.

  "No. No fair trying to change that foot again before I check. Come here," I repeated, and held my left hand down to the ground, while I fingered the cloth in my pocket with the other. The living cloth shivered against my fingers, trembling in anticipation.

  The mouse ran towards me, and I have to admit, the transformation was perfect.

  I felt a stab of guilt as I threw the cloth from out of my pocket and over the tiny creature. The cloth clung to him, wrapped tight as shadow, thin as mist.

  The shape under the cloth shuddered, convulsed, stretched. The cloth held to it, stuck fast, unfolded with him as Shriveled Corn Man returned to his own shape.

  "You witch, you tricked me!"

  "I'm no witch, just a girl child, remember? If I tricked you, it was only as you tricked others, old man."

  His screams of rage continued, barely muffled by the cloth. Tears rolled down my face. I could see the horrors that had been done to him. He had survived a brutal childhood. Yet that couldn't justify the form his vengeance had taken, and he had to be stopped.

  The body slowly stopped twitching. I stood there for long moments. He seemed to be dissolving under the cloth, but I had no urge to go check. None at all.

  "Now. What do I do next?" I spoke to myself, alone in the desert, tired. In all that time I'd only thought of defeating Shriveled Corn Man, never what would come after.

  "Now that the hard work is done, I'll help." Coyote stepped out from the brush with a sly smile, brushing his hair back from his face with a dirty hand. He must have been there all along, listening to the battle.

  Coyote walked around the cloth on the ground, then came back to where I stood.

  "Where were you? I could have used your help earlier."

  "You did fine."

  "I was terrified!"

  "But you won anyway, didn't you?" Coyote returned to the cloth. "Take out the oxuwah," he called over his shoulder.

  I pulled it out of my pack, and looked at it. I'd carried the little statue so long, I felt odd to look at it closely again. The paint on the clay looked worn, and I hoped I hadn't chipped it, hauling it all over the place.

  Coyote grunted in impatience. "Give it over."

  I handed it to him, a little reluctant. It had been in my care for so long, I hated to see it go to anyone else.

  Coyote changed, but only part of him, just his hand. He ran one long claw down the belly of the figurine, and it split open, as if the clay was wet and fresh.

  "Quiet now."

  I bit my lips to keep from crying out.

  He scooped the cloth from the ground, pulling what lay under the fabric with it, and then rolled the cloth up, folding it into an ever smaller, ever tighter bundle.

  I would never have thought it could become so small, but when he had finished, the entire package took no more space than my smallest finger.

  With a final twist, he placed the bundle in the belly of the little figure, then smoothed the clay closed. He breathed on it, and the clay hardened, with only the faintest of lines to show anything had changed.

  As he finished a wind blasted out from the center of the statue, followed by a ripple of energy spreading over the desert, almost too fast to see. I shook my head, unsure of what had happened.

  He handed the statue back to me. "There. Now you've given him what you promised. He and the oxuwah are united." He grinned, showing far too many teeth. "And his pinang will stay with the village, making it stronger. Not a bad ending, all around, and a clever trick. I'll have to watch my step with you, daughter."

  The walk back to Spider Old Woman's house seemed to go quickly, and felt peaceful in the gathering night. I fell through the door and into Jack's arms. He patted me roughly, and I decided he still had some learning to do on how to be human.

  "I'm fine Jack, really I am."

  I sat up quickly. "But you're still human. I thought you'd change back." I whirled to face Spider Old Woman. "What's wrong? Is he trapped like this?"

  She laughed, and gave me a quick pat. "No, child. You are so quick to assume the worst. He will change back in the morning, if he so wishes. But," and she looked right at my eyes, "you should find out first what he wishes. He may want to stay human. Can you live with that?"

  "Jack is Jack. Doesn't matter to me."

  I flopped back next to him. "Just as long as he's happy with his shape, I'm fine." My body felt like I'd been beaten with every lightning strike Shriveled Corn Man had thrown.

  I lay down next to Jack, and Spider Old Woman pulled a blanket over me. "He really was strong, you know." I mumbled.

  "What?" she asked.

  "Shriveled Corn Man. He really was powerful."

  "Oh yes. You've done well, child. Sleep now."

  And I did.

  * * *

  I woke up alone. Light filtered in from the door of Spider Old Woman's cottage, and I could hear faint voices outside. I lay quietly, staring at the ceiling, willing my limbs to get up.

  So tired. But I had won. I heard people talking and laughing outside, and knew I had to get up.

  I pushed back the covers and sat upright on the bench, staring into the glow of the banked fire. Over. It was finally over. Shaky, I held to a post as I stood and made my way to the door. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the bright day. The sun shone high overhead; it must have been nearly noon.

  Spider Old Woman and Coyote sat under a tree. He gesticulated wildly as he talked, and she smiled and shook her head at him. All the while she kept her focus on a small piece of wood twirling from a string in her hand.

  I wandered toward them.

  "And then I told the deer he would have to go over to the seventh mountain from the sun . . . and no matter which one he climbed, I told him he should check his counting. Coyote's laugh boomed forth. "Never told him outright he had climbed the wrong mountain, but oh, that powerful self-doubt!"

  "Old fool, don't you have any new stories? You've told me that one for more years than I can remember."

  I walked closer to them, almost hypnotized by what she held in her hands.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  She looked up, surprised. "Good morning, Maggie. It is well to see you. I am spinning this wool," she gestured towards a basket filled with fluff, "into yarn so that I can weave with it."

  I stepped forward, fascinated.

  "Maggie!" Jack's leap knocked me off my feet, and he rolled me over. "I got you first!"

  "Get off, Jack. You're too big like this."

  He didn't listen, and we probably looked like a pair of puppies, wrestling in the dirt. I didn't care, the ache in my heart felt better just to see him.

  He stopped for a break, breathing hard. "So, the magic worked and you came home because I waited here for you like you told me?"

  I ran a hand through my hair. "Yep, couldn't have done it without you." I looked around. "What have you been doing while I slept?"

  "We played over there; didn't you see us?"

  We? I couldn't imagine Jack roughhousing with Spider Old Woman. Maybe Coyote in his other form? But he had been sitting under the tree, telling stories. I looked again, and saw him standing perfectly still, waiting.

  Ash.

  I hauled myself up and walked over to him, listening to my heartbeat in my ears. "I'm glad you're all right now. I'm so sorry for . . . well, for everything."

  He reached out and touched my arm. "Maggie, all is well now."

  I had to know. "Ash, did he hurt you, after the change?" I hated to remember him as the trapped bird, bloody and broken in that cage.

  Ash shook his head
. "That time is dark and foggy. I remember little. But I know you did all you could to free us, and look!" He spread his arms wide and smiled. "I am free. My village is free, and I thank you."

  I looked at my feet, uncertain what to say, then Jack saved me.

  "Um, Maggie? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

  Ash smiled again and thumped Jack on the shoulder. Boys. "I am going to speak with the Old Ones now. We can speak more later."

  I watched him amble over to the tree, and then I turned back to Jack. "What's up?"

  Jack looked miserable. "Maggie, what do you want me to do now?"

  "What?" I couldn't understand what he meant. Jack sprawled to the ground, legs splayed in front of him. I sat next to him. The tears running down his cheeks shocked me.

  "Jack, what's wrong?" I reached out to pull him to my lap, to hold him close like I had since he was a puppy, and then stopped. I couldn't do that to him in his boy shape; it would be awkward, feel weird. Everything had changed.

  He looked up. "See? It's all broken, and I don't know what to do. Being human is fun, but I don't know if I want to stay this way." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I like being able to talk back to you, but not being able to didn't really bug me before. You usually understood what I meant. But there's all this stuff I don't know about being human, and it's all confusing. I don't want to disappoint you, though. Will you be mad at me if I want to just be me again?"

  "Oh Jack. . . ." I gave up and pulled him over to me, my throat tight. "I said it before: you're you, no matter what. If you want to be a boy now, that's fine with me. If you want to go back to your old shape, that's good too." I sniffled and wrapped my arms around him tighter. "If you wanted to change your shape everyday I wouldn't care, as long as you're okay. I don't know what we'll tell Mom and Dad if you do that though."

  I held his head between my hands and looked at his eyes. "You're my best friend and brother. No matter what shape you wear."

  He snuffled a little. "I think I want to go back to being my old shape. Thumbs are neat, but I can't run at all on two feet." He looked at me from the corner of his eyes and grinned. "And I really don't want to force you to share your homework."