People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (19 page)

Trader was watching Two Petals and the Albaamo woman exchanging glances. Gods, it was as if Power swirled in the air every time their gazes locked. He could almost feel his scalp prickling.

“You will go there?” Great Cougar asked. “To Trade among the Chikosi?”

“That was the original plan,” Old White declared.

“Perhaps we should conduct our interrogation of the Albaamaha where your ears, which clearly have no maggots, cannot hear.”

Trader shifted his attention from the Contrary to the conversation. “War Chief, you have our word. We are bound by the Power of Trade. Anything you wish us to keep secret, anything that you ask us to be bound to, we will keep to ourselves. To betray that information would be to betray the Power we live by.”

“Traders do like to gossip,” White Bear noted.

“For which reason you plied us with question after question last night,” Old White said from the side. “Did we tell you anything about the disposition of Yuchi warriors? Or where they might have a weakness?”

White Bear arched an annoyed eyebrow. “To my complete irritation, you did not. You only spoke kindly of those sneaking vermin.”

“As we will speak kindly of the Chahta should we venture to Split Sky City,” Old White insisted. “I have been at this business for many summers, Great Chief. I have been whipped, beaten, derided, cajoled, threatened, and bribed to provide information about many peoples’ enemies. The reason I am here today is because even when certain mad individuals demanded that I break the Power of Trade, I did not.” He gave them a mild expression. “I would hope that here, among the noble Chahta, no one will give me reason to reconsider that vow.”

“Reason how, Seeker?” Clay Bell asked.

Old White steepled his fingers. “On occasion, extreme measures were used by the more enthusiastic of my past questioners. In doing so, they broke the rules of Trade, spurned its Power. What I would have withheld from their enemies, I parted with most readily.” He paused. “You see, the Power of Trade binds us all. And Trader and I are of the old way of thinking.”

“Point made,” White Bear said with a nod. “Very well, I accept your integrity. And I will tell you this to tell to the Chikosi in turn: We are preparing for them. They will not catch us asleep as they did at White Arrow
Town. If they cross the hills in force, they may manage to have initial successes, but we have warned our people. We
will
retaliate.”

Trader shook his head. “I have seen this before.”

“As have I,” Old White mused. “Nothing good ever comes of it. Not when peoples are prosperous.” He looked up. “This isn’t a matter of leaving starvation behind and moving into better lands. Nothing would be served by a prolonged war between your peoples.”

“Many of us feel that way,” Clay Bell agreed. “But something must be done about the attack on White Arrow Town. Some seek vengeance for the people killed, the damage done. Power is out of balance. The ghosts of the dead must have revenge.”

Trader added, “Reparations could be made on both sides. Chahta sending gifts for the dead at Alligator Town, the Chikosi reciprocating for the dead at White Arrow Town. Power could be brought back into balance.”

“That,” White Bear said, “takes wiser heads than the ones at Split Sky City.”

Old White remained thoughtful. “Do the majority of the Chahta seek war?”

“Most would prefer to avoid it. Any prolonged fighting will only serve to weaken us,” Great Cougar said stiffly. “And once weakened, the Yuchi lie just to the north. They couldn’t resist the opportunity to come here, seeking captives, booty, anything to add to their own Power.”

At that point, Two Petals rose. She walked over and pointed at the captives. In Trade Tongue she stated, “You must want these people very much.”

White Bear glanced at Clay Bell, then back at Two Petals. “What do you mean when you say we want them?”

“You’re not going to Trade for them.”

“They are spies!” Great Cougar said stiffly. “We don’t Trade for spies. We teach them lessons.”

“I don’t think they’re spies,” Trader said in reply. “I think they’re telling the truth. Albaamaha wouldn’t flee into your territory unless there was no other place for them to go. Look at the man—he’s half-starved. By the gods, he’s got leaves in his hair.” Trader bent down, looking the old Albaamo in the eyes. “How long have you been living in the woods?”

With a heavy Sky Hand accent, the old man said, “Too long.” He looked up as if to see Breath Giver himself. “I was only joking about being hung to a Chahta square.”

The girl turned large dark eyes on Two Petals. “We were waiting for you, Sister.”

Trader started. He really got a good look at her, concluding that she was pretty—if thin. He was well aware that her eyes had the same Dreamy quality that Two Petals’ had. In terribly bad Albaamaha he asked, “Waiting for Two Petals?”

“And for you. It was in the vision,” the young woman said simply. “The three of you will bring Power back into balance.”

The old man barked, “What are you saying?”

Trader’s ear struggled a bit over the Albaamaha.

The captive said calmly, “They are the ones, Grandfather. Power has sent them.”

Trader rocked back in surprise. “Power sent us?”

“So it would seem.” Old White arched a quizzical brow.

Then Two Petals spoke in Trade Tongue. “I can see them dying on the Chahta squares. When they do, blood shall run from so many bodies. The future of hundreds now pulses in their veins.”

Trader shot a glance at Old White, but the old man’s eyes had taken on a hard gleam. He asked White Bear, “Will you Trade for the captives?”

“They are not his to Trade,” Great Cougar insisted.
“They belong to me. I captured them. By hanging them in the squares, we will call Power to our side in the coming struggle. Their blood will give heart to my warriors—a foretaste, if you will, of things to come.”

Two Petals and the Albaamo woman both threw their heads back and laughed in unison.

Lotus Root willed herself to walk out from her hiding place in the trees. The Chikosi masqueraders had long since vanished, but it wouldn’t be long before others arrived, come to collect the bodies.

She placed her feet carefully, ensuring that she left no tracks for keen-eyed warriors to find. She winced at the sight of the hacked and mutilated bodies, pausing only long enough to spit on Fast Legs’ dismembered corpse.

“Odd, isn’t it?” she told the man’s scalped head where it lay rolled on its side. The skull was caved in. “This is the fate you wished for me.”

No answer came from the parted lips, no reaction from the death-grayed eyes.

She picked her way over to the place where the warrior had buried the sack. Easing the leaves aside, she pulled the tamped dirt back, found a corner of the sack, and pulled. The bag was oddly heavy, and she could see that blood and grease had stained its sides.

Shooting a frightened glance over her shoulder, she tightened her grip on the sack and climbed the steep-sided ravine. Topping out onto the flat she ran south as fast as she could, keeping to the deep leaf mat, trying not to disturb the cushioned footing with her smooth-soled moccasins.

Only when she had crossed the flat and reached the cover of a deadfall did she bother to stop, catch her
breath, and stare at the sack. Opening it, she looked inside. At first she thought it was some kind of animal skins. And then the realization hit her: Scalps! The Chikosi had buried a sack full of human scalps!

The evening was beautiful, the air still warm. In the southwest, the sun sent rays of light through puffy clouds, burning the edges yellow, gold, and red to contrast with the deeper purple of the cloud bodies. A few brave insects flitted here and there, wings shining in the light.

Old White followed the trail up from the canoe landing, assured that all was well there. He passed through the trees and into the fields. The people he encountered nodded pleasantly, calling greetings. They carried jars to be filled with water at the river, and some had packs on their backs.

Women were preparing the evening meals, cooking over outside fires. The smell of woodsmoke lay heavy on the air. Children laughed and played. For the moment, life was good.

He reflected on that as he approached Feathered Snake Town and glanced up at the sky. What were the purposes of Breath Giver when he Created the world? All of this could vanish come spring. Where people now lived, loved, played, and worked could become a battleground if Flying Hawk massed his warriors and sent them here.

In the old stories, all the Mos’kogee people had been one, a large nation that migrated eastward from across the Father Water. Driven by the availability of new land,
they had come and conquered, or driven off, the local peoples. While crossing such vast territory, his people had split, some staying, others moving on, until Chahta, Sky Hand, Ockmulgee, Tuscaloosa, Coosa, and so many other nations had grown from the original stock.

The Chahta are our cousins.
These people, the ones he now saw—but for a chance of the past—could be his relatives. But if things went badly, blood would be spilled in a terrible war. He knew his Sky Hand people. They trained constantly for war. It was fed into them along with their mothers’ milk. Among all the peoples he had visited, only the Azteca had a more proficient military: They marched in massed armies of thousands, each a trained warrior, capable of taking commands in battle.

Sky Hand warriors only traveled in hundreds, but what they lacked in mass and organization, they made up for with a fierce spirit. They would cut a swath through the Chahta lands. In the end, however, the Chahta would call on the Pearl River villages to the west. Where the Sky Hand filled the Black Warrior River basin, the Chahta sprawled over a large territory. If something finally united them, like a war of retribution against the Sky Hand, they would pose a worthy adversary.

The final resolution would boil down to attrition—and who could find allies. The Natchez, surely, would side with the Chahta. But who would help the Sky Hand? Not the Yuchi or Pensacola. The Coosa and Tuscaloosa would probably make excuses and remain home. They, after all, would have no stake in a war off to their west.

So, there it was, a grueling conflict pitting a better, smaller Sky Hand force against a larger, poorly organized Chahta resistance. And just to the north the Yuchi lay in wait. Born-of-Sun’s people would sense an opportunity.

There will be no winners here.

That notion preoccupied him as he entered the defensive gate and made his way through the houses inside the walls.

People smiled, waved, and called greetings as he passed. He touched hands with large-eyed children who ran out to greet him, and entered the plaza. He was passing the Men’s House when Great Cougar emerged from the sweat lodge, his skin dripping with perspiration.

Just the man I wanted to see.
Old White stopped to watch as the war chief raised a water jar and poured the cool contents over his glistening body.

“The perfect temperature,” Old White noted, taking stock of the war chief’s muscular body. He was tattooed over most of it, scarred here and there.

The man used a cloth to dry himself and nodded. “A warrior must be clean. The body is the home of the souls, and must be maintained like the temple it is.”

Old White nodded as the man dressed himself and flipped his wet hair back. The long warrior’s lock that hung down over his forehead had been pulled through three white shell beads. His copper ear spools gleamed.

“I was just thinking of what war would do to the people here,” Old White said. “If you fight the Sky Hand, who do you think will win?”

“We will.” Great Cougar flashed him a smile. “Power will side with us.” He used the cloth to slick away the remaining dampness on his brawny arms.

“I suppose that if you asked the same question to Flying Hawk, he would give you the same answer. People, no matter what their beliefs, always believe Power, the gods, fate, whatever, sides with them.”

Great Cougar walked over, expression reserved. “I have fought the Chikosi before. Beaten them, too. That was some time ago. They’ve grown soft since then, only skirmishing with the Yuchi.”