“I didn’t make him my enemy,” she said, rather sourly. “He did that all by himself. He’d already made up his mind before I ever got there, and he never was one to let facts get in the way of a good opinion.”

“True.” Mooncrow nodded. “I suspect that you are going to have to go to this construction site yourself, either tonight or tomorrow night, to see if the mi-ah-luschka really are out there. I would suggest tomorrow night, very, very strongly. You will need a ceremony to prepare and protect you, and it will take more time than we really have tonight. I think that tonight you should simply cleanse yourself. You have had many stresses today, and you are not thinking clearly.”

He had been very serious right up until that moment, but suddenly the impish twinkle in his eye warned her that he was about to zing her.

“You know, I could show you the Osage Blanket Ritual.” He leered. “It would help you, the way you are right now.”

“Thank you, O Wise One, O Wisest of the Little Old Men,” she said with heavy irony. “Just like a man. Suggesting that the cure for all my problems is a good medicinal fuck.”

In a way she had hoped to shock him a little with the vulgarity; she was doomed to disappointment. He chuckled, and continued to chuckle as she made her way back to her room.

Just as she reached it, the phone rang. She reached for it automatically, before Mooncrow’s warning “It’s David” could stop her in time to let the machine get it.

“Talldeer,” she said, in as neutral a voice as she could. She didn’t bother to wonder how Grandfather had known who it was; that was why he was the shaman and she was the apprentice.

“Home already?” David said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or couldn’t you find anyone who’d fink for you?”

“Grow the hell up, David,” she replied wearily, and hung up before he could launch into a tirade or a threat.

She sat down heavily on the side of her bed, and took the phone off the hook for a moment while she thought. He was not going to leave her alone. Maybe he had to keep coming at her until she conceded defeat; maybe it was more than just pride. Maybe he’d do anything just to renew the contact; maybe the hormones were getting to him as badly as they were her—

“And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt,” she muttered.