p&c.thunderhead-第102章
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Beiyoodzin fell into another silence。 He turned his horse's head and they resumed their slow journey up the canyon； the horses splashing across the stream at each bend。 At one turn they surprised a mule deer； which ceased drinking and raced away from them along the bed of the stream； sending up crystal cascades of water that glittered and fell back through the sun…drenched air。
〃Those two brothers rejected anything to do with the Anglo world outside。 But they also rejected the good ways of the people。 They saw the evil city as their own destiny。 Based on the whispered stories of our people； they eventually found the greatest secret of all…the hidden kiva…and entered it。 They would have broken inside only once…not for its treasures； of course； but for its lode of corpse powder。 It would be their own weapon of fear and vengeance。 Afterwards； they would have carefully resealed the kiva； in the proper manner。〃 He shook his head。 〃They wanted to protect its secrets…the secrets of the entire city…at all costs。 In all but name； they had already been transformed into eskizzi…witches。 And with the killing of their brother； the transformation was plete。 In our belief； the final requirement in being a skinwalker is to murder someone you love。〃
〃Do you think they actually had supernatural powers？〃 Skip asked。
Beiyoodzin smiled。 〃I hear the doubt in your voice。 It is true that the forbidden roots they chewed gave them great strength and great speed； the ability to absorb pain and bullets without feeling。 And I know the white people think witchcraft is a superstition。〃 He looked at Skip。 〃But I have seen witches in Anglo society； too。 They wear suits instead of wolfskins。 And they carry briefcases instead of corpse powder。 As a boy； they came and took me to boarding school； where I was beaten for speaking my own language。 Later； I saw them e among our people with mining contracts and oil leases。〃
As they rounded another bend； the canyon gave way to a small grove of cottonwoods。 Beiyoodzin halted； and motioned for them all to dismount。 Turned loose； the horses wandered off to graze the rich carpet of grass along the stream。 Teddy Bear leaped onto a large rock and stretched out； looking for all the world like a lion； keeping guard over his pride。 Skip walked over to Nora and placed his arm around her shoulders。
〃How are you doing？〃 he asked； giving her a squeeze。
〃I'm okay；〃 she said。 〃You？〃
Skip looked around； took a deep breath。 〃A little nervous。 But actually； pretty good。 To be honest； I don't remember feeling better。〃
〃I'll thank you to take your paws off my date；〃 said Smithback； ambling over and joining them。 Together； they watched as Beiyoodzin untied his medicine kit from the saddle strings； examined it briefly； then nodded toward a gentle path that led up the side of the hill to a small rounded shoulder of rock。 Above； Nora could see the rockshelter where their father's skeleton lay。
〃What a beautiful place；〃 Skip murmured。
Beiyoodzin led the way up the path and over the last little hump of slickrock。 Nora paused at the top； suddenly reluctant to look inside。 Instead； she turned and let her gaze fall over the canyon。 The rains had brought up a carpet of flowers…Indian paintbrush； sego lilies； datura； scarlet gilia； desert lupines。 After much discussion； the two children of Padraic Kelly had decided to leave the body where it lay。 It was in the redrock country he loved so well； overlooking one of the most beautiful and isolated canyons of the Escalante。 No other gravesite could provide more dignity； or more peace。
She felt Skip's arm around her shoulder again； and she turned at last to face the shelter。
In the dim light of the interior； she could make out her father's saddle and saddlebags carefully lined up along the back wall of the rockshelter； the leather cracked and faded with age。 Beside them was the turquoise skull； beautiful yet vaguely sinister； even here； far from the evil pall of the Rain Kiva。 Beneath a thin layer of sand lay her father's bones。 In places the wind had blown the sand away； revealing bits of rotten cloth； the dull ivory of bone； the curve of the cranium； she could see that he had died looking down into the valley below。
Nora stared for a long time。 Nobody spoke。 Then； slowly； she reached into her pocket。 Her fingers closed over a small notebook： her father's journal； taken from the body by the witch she had shot and restored to her by Beiyoodzin。 She opened it and removed a faded envelope she had placed between the pages： the letter that had started it all。
The letter had been addressed to her mother； written just before he had entered the city。 But the last entry in Padraic Kelly's journal had been addressed to his children； written after his discovery of the city； in this very rockshelter while he lay dying。 And now； in the presence of both her father and Skip； Nora began to read his last words。
She stepped forward； stopping at the foot of the grave。 The cross was still there； two twisted pieces of cedar lashed with a rawhide thong。 She felt Smithback's hand e forward to grasp her own； and she returned the pressure gratefully。 After the horror of the last days at Quivira； and even in his own sickness and pain； the writer had been a kind； quiet； and steady presence。 He had acpanied her to Peter Holroyd's memorial in Los Angeles； where she had left his own battered copy of Endurance beside the stone marker that stood in the stead of a grave： his body had never been found。 Smithback had returned with her for a memorial service for Enrique Aragon on Lake Powell； when they boated out to the site where； beneath a thousand feet of water； Aragon's beloved Music Temple lay。
In time； she knew； they would return to Quivira。 A handpicked team from the Institute； armed with respirators and environmental suits； would make careful video documentaries of the site。 Sloane's discovery…the micaceous pottery of transcendent beauty and value…would be carefully studied and documented back at the Institute； under the direction of Goddard himself。 And perhaps； in time； Smithback would even write an account of the expedition…or； at least； the part of the expedition that would not bring unendurable pain to Goddard。
She sighed deeply。 Quivira would wait for her。 There was no chance of its location ever being divulged； or being public knowledge…the poisonous dust would make sure of that。 Almost all those who knew of its location…with the exception of the Nankoweap…were now dead。 Those who lived； she knew； would keep its secret。
Nora watched as Beiyoodzin leaned over the skeleton； untied the little buckskin bag； and bowed his head。 Pinching out some yellow cornmeal and pollen； he sprinkled it on the body and began a soft； rhythmical chant； beautiful in its simple monotony。 The others bowed their heads。
When the chant was done； Beiyoodzin looked at Nora。 His eyes were shining； his creased face smiling。 〃I thank you；〃 he said； 〃for letting me put this to rest。 I thank you for myself； and for my people。〃
It was Skip's turn。 He took the letter from Nora； turning it over and over in his hands。 Then he knelt down； gently smoothed the sand away； and placed it into the pocket of his father's shirt。 He remained kneeling for a moment。 Then he slowly stood up and returned to Nora's side。
Nora took a deep breath； steadied her hands。 Then she turned to the final entry in her father's journal and began to read。
To my dearest and most wonderful children； Nora and Skip；
By the time you read this； I will be gone。 I have been stricken with a disease； which I fear I contracted in the city I discovered： the city of Quivira。 Although I cannot be sure this will ever reach you； I must believe in my heart that it will。 Because I want to speak to you through this journal one last time。
If it is within your power； let the great ruins of Quivira lie undisturbed and unknown。 It is a place of evil； I know that now； even from my own brief exploration。 It may well be the cause of my death； though I do not understand why。 Perhaps some knowledge is better left alone； to die and return to the earth； just as we do。
I have just one request to make each of you。 Skip； pleas
