Copper Falcon (3 page)

I hesitated at the hurt in his voice, then asked, “Being here in defiance of the Morning Star’s banishment order is a death sentence. How long do we have?”

“We’ll be gone by midmorning tomorrow. Not even the Keeper with her quivering nose can smell us out before that.”

He stood. “Come, let’s sleep. Tomorrow is a busy day. And, as you just pointed out, the one thing we cannot do is linger.”

*****

Twice the following morning we were called to the palace. Each time Green Chunkey requested additional information as he called in Earth Clan chiefs and other important people to see if he could come up with a squadron. Apparently these things were complicated. At home, Father would have ordered, and the men would have gone.

In the meantime I watched the sun creep across the sky, finger by finger, all the while feeling the growing tension. Father hid his worry, but his faint sheen of nervous perspiration was more than just the warm sun. The muscles in his shoulders had tightened; a man of legendary appetite, he waved away a midday meal: corn cake with roasted turkey meat.

One of the slaves came trotting down the stairs from where Green Chunkey had been in council with the Snapping Turtle Clan chief. The boy spotted us and came at a run. Dropping to one knee he explained, “The high chief wants me to tell you that he has most of your squadron. The Snapping Turtle Clan chief will agree, assuming the clan matron approves.”

“And how long will that be?” I asked irritably.

“A runner has already been sent,” the youth assured me.

High sun had passed and I was playing chunkey on one of the superbly graded clay courts when the warriors arrived. Twenty of them, armed and dangerous looking. They stopped at the foot of the palace, grounded their weapons, and waited while a squadron first trotted up the stairs.

“I hope those are the first of our new warriors,” Father murmured as I took my place at the mark. “They look seasoned.”

I rolled my stone, made my cast, and lost the point. By that time the squadron first had descended the stairs and led his twenty our way. “You might have your wish.”

I thought luck was with us when the first stopped before my father, but the rest of his warriors surrounded us in a most ominous manner. Then the first stated matter-of-factly, “Chief Red Mask, by order of the Clan Keeper Blue Heron you will accompany us.”

Father looked stunned.

“This is the high chief of Copper Falcon Town!” I cried, my voice loud enough to alert our warriors where they lounged on the lower stairs of the clan house. Promptly they were on their feet, grabbing up war clubs, bows, and quivers.

The Clan Keeper’s warriors tensed, a wolfish anticipation in their eyes. We were heartbeats away from teaching Cahokians a lesson in warfare they’d—

“No,” Father bellowed, raising his hands. “Stand down! Do nothing.” He pointed a finger my way. “One wrong move and this will end in blood. Our warriors are to
stay here
.”

I met the squadron first’s hard gaze with my own, saying in T’so, which I was sure he didn’t understand, “We can take them, Father. They’re town warriors.”

“And what?” Father asked in return. “Try to fight our way clear back to the canoe landing? Who will aid us? Green Chunkey? Do you really think he’ll choose a distant cousin over open rebellion against the Morning Star?”

“But I—”

“It’s up to you, Flint Knife.” The intense look Father gave me shook me to the bones. “Until this is resolved, our warriors stay here, in Horned Serpent Town. Safe. All is not yet lost, but if I don’t make it back, take the squadron and go save our people. That’s my order to you.”

With no other choice, I ordered our bristling, angry fighting men to wait at the clan house. The Keeper’s men tied father’s wrists together and, holding a thong that led to the binding, started off at a run.

Fists clenched, I watched them go, my souls torn.

“He didn’t say
you
had to stay, just us!” Fast Call reminded. “Go! If you need us, we’ll be here.”

I threw him a relieved salute and started off at a dog trot, trailing along behind, not even taking time to gather my weapons or blankets. All I had was my red granite chunkey stone and a lance.

For the rest of the day, we followed a well-beaten route north through clusters of buildings, fields, and endless houses. At a call from the Keeper’s first, people slipped to the side, allowing the warriors to pass. Had I not been scared sick about Father, I would have loved to have lingered and marveled over the buildings, the sculpted guardian posts, and the remarkable items offered by roadside Traders.

Instead I spent that long hot run promising to rain mayhem and ruin on this mysterious Clan Keeper—and even the Morning Star himself should anything untoward happen to Father.

I had begun to consider myself adjusted to Cahokia’s marvels … right up to the moment that my father’s captors led us up the Moon Road, past the Earth Moiety’s mighty temples, and into the great plaza. Ahead of me, across the sweeping, grassy expanse, the Morning Star’s towering mound rose into the sky like a monumental wedge.

I stopped short and stared up with disbelieving eyes. Could humans have built such a thing? Truly, I could believe a god lived up on that incredible height, behind those tall walls. His abode would have been in that impossible, steep-roofed temple with its guardian poles and a huge World Tree piercing the sky like a mighty spear. An elevated terrace jutted from the southern slope; it could only be one thing: the site of the legendary Council House, its thatch roof visible above its protective wall. A broad stairway provided access from the plaza.

The warriors, parting the crowd, led Father around the western side of the Great Plaza, lest they interfere with the stickball game being waged on the grass just this side of the mighty bald cypress World Tree pole. Lightning-riven, the World Tree dominated the center of the plaza. Throngs of people watched the game, shouting and clapping, calling encouragement to the players. Behind them sat ranks of Traders, artisans, and food vendors.

Towering above the crowd, and on all sides of the plaza, rose the high mounds with their temples, palaces, and society houses—places I had only heard of, and never actually thought to see. We passed beneath the palace of the Great Sky, the Tonka’tzi—a magnificent building constructed from intricately carved timbers and roofed with freshly cut thatch. The Great Sky was the head of Morning Star House, the titular leader of the entire Four Winds Clan. Beyond, just across the Avenue of the Sun, and an arrow-shot west of the Morning Star’s mound, stood Lady Night Shadow Star’s palace. Not only was she the Tonka’tzi’s eldest daughter, she was said to be something of a wildcat and a handful. West of that, along the fabled Avenue of the Sun, lay another building-rimmed plaza and what turned out to be our destination: the Keeper’s mound-top palace.

There, Father was ordered to wait, surrounded by his guard. He kept shooting me worried glances, signing with his hands for me not to interfere, to let be what would be.

As if musing to himself, he called in T’so, “Stand down. Say nothing to draw attention to yourself. Do you understand?”

Didn’t
they
understand who they were dealing with? I was my father’s son, and he was high chief of Copper Falcon Town. And what did these soft city-bred warriors know of fighting, war, or death? If this went wrong, I was going back for our warriors, and then, by the double heads of Hunga Ahiuto, I would carve a bloody path right through the middle of Cahokia.

Nearly a hand of time passed before I could stand it no longer. Stepping close, I shouted, “How did they know you were here?”

“The Keeper has eyes everywhere,” the squadron first replied. “She knows everything, hears everything.”

Father said, “She must have gained a bit of craft over the years.”

“Oh, of course,” the squadron first agreed. “Far more crafty than any exiled chief who steps ashore at the canoe landing … and leaves two loud-mouthed warriors to guard his canoe. You know, the kind of rude country dolts who brag that they are from Copper Falcon Town, and in the company of their chief?”

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Father insisted.

“Tell it to the Keeper,” the first muttered. “Here she comes now.”

I turned to see eight burly porters bearing a litter chair westward down the Avenue of the Sun. High above the crowd, a sunshade over her head, sat a finely dressed, gray-haired woman. The sun-burst tattoos on her cheeks had faded, and her lined face betrayed her years. She fixed hard black eyes on Father where he stood defiantly, surrounded by her warriors. A faint smile crossed her thin brown lips.

At a signal her porters lowered her; one reached down to help her to her feet. She wore a white hemp dress, immaculately woven, the Four Winds Clan symbols embroidered in black on the fine fabric. No less than seven shell necklaces hung at her throat. Her graying hair was pinned high on her head by a polished copper piece in the shape of a turkey-tail mace.

“Hello, Red Mask.” Her voice was firm, commanding. With an arrogance born of prestige and authority, she walked past the guard to stare up at my father. “How long has it been? Twenty summers? Twenty-two?”

“Closer to thirty,” Father countered as he pulled himself to his full height.

“That long?” She chuckled. “But then, thinking back, I’ve thrown a lot of men out of my house since that day.” She tapped an insolent finger on Father’s muscular chest. “You taught me how easy it was.”

“Why am I here, Keeper?”

She narrowed her eyes as she took Father’s measure. “Why
are
you?”

“I came to ask my cousin for a squadron of warriors. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Poor timing on your part. Most of our forces are up north. Those accursed Red Wing heretics are finally being dealt with. This time Morning Star himself has blessed the dispatch of three thousand warriors under the command of War Chief Makes Three.” She cocked her head slightly. “Perhaps a perfect opportunity for you to see how the land lay prior to a return?”

“I came only for a squadron. I could care less about—”

“You were banished for life. A smart man would have paid attention to that fact.”

“I want a squadron, nothing more.”

“I almost believe you. But then you could have sent a messenger.”

“And how many messengers does the Tonka’tzi receive a day asking for warriors? Instead I came to plead with Horned Serpent House, with my kinsman, Green Chunkey. Had he met my request with greater dispatch, we’d already be gone.”

She watched him through slitted eyes. “Maybe I should just put you in a square as a lesson—”

“No!” I cried, stepping forward. Panic swelled within me.

Father’s guards lifted their clubs.

The Keeper gave me a quick inspection, adding dryly, “Must be your son. He looks like you and has that same impetuosity without a lick of sense.”

“Leave him be,” Father growled to the warriors. “Flint Knife, hold your tongue.”

“Ah,” the Keeper said through a smile as she studied me. “The renowned young war chief.” She turned back to Father. “He has managed to carve out enough of a reputation that we’ve heard of him. Supposedly, he’s a ring-tailed terror when it comes to fighting T’so.”

“Then you do know about our recent troubles?”

“I keep track of all my divorced husbands … especially the capable ones.”

Husband?
I gaped at the woman. Father had been married to the
Keeper
?

I could see the truth of it on his face when he said, “I keep track of my divorced wife, my
only
divorced wife. She has accumulated quite a list of discarded spouses over the years.”

The ring of guards looked away uneasily. I cringed at the tone of Father’s voice.

Keeper Blue Heron, however, sighed wistfully. “Not only are all men built with some unacceptable flaw inherent to their natures, but after a couple of weeks they either begin to irritate me to distraction or simply bore me to tears.”

“So, now that we’ve established that I’m no threat to anyone but the T’so, can I get back to Horned Serpent Town, collect whatever kind of squadron Green Chunkey has put together, and return to my people?”

She studied him through shrewd black eyes, fingered her chin, then gave a faint shake of the head. “I’m sorry, old friend, but it’s just not that simple.” To the squadron first, she said, “Bring him. The Tonka’tzi will see him tomorrow after other business is conducted.”

The first bowed and touched his forehead in obeisance. The Keeper led the way up the long steps to her high palace atop its earthen pyramid. The squad—surrounding Father—fell in behind.

I started forward, only to have two warriors block my way, eyes hard, war clubs purposefully gripped.

“That’s my father,” I explained.

“So? Try to pass? You’ll go up there, all right, bound and gagged to share his fate, whatever it is.”

“Then … what do I do?”

With a tilt of the head, one of the warriors—a Deer Clan man by his tattoos—indicated the Great Plaza. “You’re Four Winds. There’s a Four Winds Clan house just over there.”

I backed slowly away, considering.

If there was anything to learn, it would be in the clan house. And Father apparently wasn’t going anywhere until tomorrow.

But by Piasa’s swinging balls, how much worse could this get?

*****

With nothing else to do, my heart plagued by worry, I wandered, trying not to look like a lost duckling paddling in deep water, with who knew what kind of danger lurking beneath the roiled surface.

Shrills and whistles went up from the stickball game over in the Great Plaza as the winning side exploded in celebration. People who’d placed wagers collected their winnings. As the sun slanted through the late-afternoon clouds, my empty stomach began to chafe. The smells from the food booths were hard to resist.

They would feed me at the Four Winds Clan house later, so to still the pangs I stepped away from the food vendors, passed beneath the mighty Morning Star’s majestic mound, and stopped short. On the southern edge of the eastern plaza stood a series of wooden squares, most bearing the sagging bodies of unfortunate men and women who had managed to irritate the Morning Star or his subordinates.