People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (51 page)

Heron Wing tossed a handful of corn into the fire. It was little enough offering to the winds for ceasing that angry blow. She could hear cold rain pattering outside, and the drips falling from the eaves had a reassuring rhythm. Glancing up, she was so relieved that her roof had survived. Many had not, and now people were sheltering with family, or spending a miserable night listening to water plopping into pots placed under leaks.

She dropped her head into her hands, worry chewing at her insides like a voracious wood rat. The slow and eroding fear that had become her constant companion
was new. Living like this, she decided, was like a slow death.

Even when Smoke Shield had been at his worst, the subtle knowledge that he might beat her, or perhaps even disfigure or maim her, had been tempered by the knowledge that clan justice would make him pay in the end. People liked and respected her—and perhaps Smoke Shield knew that deep down inside. It had held him back, supplied a restraint that not even he was willing to challenge.

Through all of those dark days, she had been buoyed by a deep-seated courage, some hard fiber woven into her souls that had kept her resolve from crumbling. But now, with so much at stake, she had to face the fact that deep down, she was terrified.

The sensation of complete impotence had left her adrift, helpless. Not even in the days following Green Snake’s flight had she experienced this. Though her heart was broken and the future had grown uncertain, she still had possessed the core belief that she would manage. The birth of her son, and her people’s constant reliance on her counsel, had given her direction.

Then Old White had walked into her house; and her world had fallen apart like the ramada roofs in the wind. No matter how she tried to picture it, the future was dark and menacing. Should even a whisper be passed that Green Snake was here in Split Sky City, Smoke Shield would act with immediate savagery.

Nor did the Traders’ wild plots hold much hope of success. She glanced over at the fire where it flickered. She half expected to hear shouts on the night, the cry of triumph as Green Snake was apprehended. And once captured, even if Green Snake kept his mouth closed, Smoke Shield would be coming, eager to know if she’d seen Green Snake, and what they’d talked about.

He will destroy me.

She glanced at her son’s bed. On this night he was at his aunt’s, tucked in safe where he couldn’t witness any odd comings or goings.

Pale Cat accompanies Green Snake. He’ll ensure that nothing goes wrong.

But not even the protestations of a
Hopaye
could save them. This thing was too dangerous.

Trust in Power
, Green Snake had said. But it was Power that had taken him from her in the first place.

Gods, why couldn’t we have just climbed into your nice northern canoe and left this place?

“Are you still awake?” Morning Dew asked from her bed across the room. The woman lifted her head, black hair tumbling around her face.

“Go back to sleep. It’s nothing.”

Morning Dew dropped her head back to the bedding, but a moment later flipped the blanket off and stood. She walked over, awkward with sleep, to seat herself beside Heron Wing. Her knowing eyes studied Heron Wing’s face.

“Do I want to know what is happening?”

“Not if you value your life.” She glanced at the woman, seeing concern behind her dark eyes. “My whole world has become chaos.”

“Green Snake?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Morning Dew smiled. “I thought I was in love once.” She shook her head. “But if our roles had been reversed, I’m not sure. Had I had to spend ten years away from Screaming Falcon, I don’t know that I’d be as committed as you are.”

“Perhaps it was being married to Smoke Shield. I had time to dwell on a better man.”

Morning Dew stared wistfully at the fire. “I am a worthless woman.”

Heron Wing lifted her eyebrow. “Oh?”

“My husband meant everything to me. Hardly a moment passed without me thinking of him. When I married him, it was the most marvelous day of my life. We only had days, but they were miraculous. Then, after the raid, I don’t know what happened. I lived with the horror of what was happening to him. Then, after that night . . .” She shrugged. “Can you love someone, and then, when it’s all over, barely grieve for them? All I remember from those days was worrying about myself. Not him.” She glanced at Heron Wing. “I cried when he died, but I think now that I was crying for myself.”

Heron Wing smiled, laying her arm over Morning Dew’s shoulders. “Don’t you know what grief is? You always cry for yourself, for what you’ve lost.”

“That seems selfish in some way.”

“Survivors are always selfish.” She glanced up at the dark roof. “That’s what worries me about Green Snake and this insane scheme of his. I’d be happy to embrace selfishness right now. I want him to come and take me away. I want to be a survivor, Morning Dew. I want to have what you had, even for a couple of days.” She closed her eyes. “One night wasn’t enough.”

“What are they doing tonight?”

“Risking their lives. The Seeker has a plan to appease the Chahta war party when it comes.” She glanced at Morning Dew. “Nothing will make much difference if your people and mine start fighting. Like tossing a burning torch on a roof, there will be no way to stop it.”

“What are they—?”

“Are you there?” a voice called from the darkness.

“We’re here,” Heron Wing answered. “But wait a moment. Let me put something over the fire.”

She stood, shuffling through the pots to find a large round bowl. This she laid over the flames, dousing the room in darkness. “Come.”

She felt the draft as he entered, heard the door hanging rasp on wood. Once sure the fabric was in place, she used a stick to pry the bowl out of the hearth. The light flickered, gained strength, and she turned to see Green Snake. Water beaded on his smooth skin, and his hair sparkled with droplets. He was dressed as a warrior, his hair back in a bun pinned with a little white arrow. The partially finished tattoos on his face had been painted in, and a war club hung from his belt. Heavy leather straps rested on his shoulders.

He swung the wooden box from his shoulders, and Morning Dew gasped, staring with disbelief.

“The White Arrow war medicine!” she cried, rising to stand an arm’s length from the intricately carved wood. “How did you get it?”

“With a great deal of risk, danger, and harrowing escapes.” Green Snake’s grin grew wider. “Almost cost me my life. Such close calls I never hope to have again.”

Morning Dew’s expression remained stunned. Heron Wing, however, arched an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Who knows it’s missing?”

“No one.” Green Snake raised the box, letting fire-light gleam on the pearls and shell inlaid into the wood. The Chahta image of a falcon shone from the box lid. “At least, not yet.”

“How did you get this?” Morning Dew asked again, as if having trouble breathing.

“I told you, at risk of—”

Morning Dew stamped her foot, chin lowering as she gave him a disapproving stare.

“All right,” Green Snake said easily. “The Seeker has made a study of plants. Not just ours, but from all over. He mixed up a concoction of datura, hemp, and bits of root of this and that. Pale Cat sprinkled it into one of the black drink cups and had them all drink out of it. When he stepped to the doorway and gave me the sign, I just walked in.” His expression turned quizzical.

“And then what happened?” Heron Wing prompted.

“It was an odd sensation. That was the last place I was before Rattle—I mean, Smoke Shield—came to the door and I struck him down. It brought back curious memories.” He shook it off. “No matter, being dressed as a warrior I just walked past the sleepers; the idea was that if any of them awakened, they’d just see another warrior walking through. With so many strangers in town, who’d know?”

“And why did you bring it here?” Heron Wing asked.

Green Snake cocked his head. “Does that bother you?”

“Yes,” both women replied.

Heron Wing crossed her arms. “That’s a very Powerful medicine. A
man’s
medicine. What do you intend on doing with it in a
woman’s
house?”

He gave her that familiar old smile, the one that barely curled the corners of his lips. “Can you think of the last place Smoke Shield would think to look for it?”

“Here?”

“Precisely.” He gestured with the box toward her back room. “I could put it back there if you’d sleep better.”

“Sleep? With that thing here? I doubt it.” Heron Wing gestured her acceptance. “But I suppose that’s the best we can do.”

Green Snake stepped into the storage room. She heard boxes and ceramic jars being moved. Then he emerged, clapping his hands.

“Now,” he said easily, “the next problem is how to let Great Cougar know we’ve got it.”

Heron Wing crossed her arms. “What? No magic potion for that in the Seeker’s bag?”

Morning Dew had a strange look on her face, one filled with disbelief and awe.

“Sorry,” Green Snake said. “Somehow, getting word
to Great Cougar isn’t a matter of leaves and herbs. We’re just going to have to hope that we have enough warning . . . that either I or Old White can slip away and offer it to him.”

Heron Wing rubbed her tired face. “I suppose that you know the Council has been called for the day after tomorrow?”

“Pale Cat said as much.”

“Why didn’t he take it to the Panther Clan palace?” she demanded. “Smoke Shield certainly isn’t going to search there!”

“No, but Panther Clan warriors would recognize that box.” Green Snake pointed toward the hidden medicine. “If one of them sees it, we’re undone.”

“And your house?”

Green Snake shrugged. “We’re running out of space under our floor.”

“Under your floor?”

Green Snake grinned. “Trade that we didn’t want itchy fingers to lift when we were out of the house.”

Heron Wing took a deep breath, rubbing her hands over her arms. “It gives me the shakes, knowing such Power is there, behind that wall. I can feel it now. How am I supposed to sleep here?”

“You could come to my house,” he said, the grin widening.

Heron Wing placed her fingers to her temples. “Don’t—not even in jest. That’s like a knife to my heart.”

Morning Dew seemed to come to herself. “Go with him, Heron Wing.”

“What?”

“There are no secrets here. You yourself said that one night wasn’t enough.” She placed her hands on Heron Wing’s shoulders, looking into her eyes with steely resolve. “The medicine belongs to
my
people. It
was carried by my husband. It won’t bother my Dreams. And, as to anyone seeing you, this city was turned upside down by the wind. Half the houses are hosting people who are dislocated until they can fix their roofs. Assuming you rise early—and aren’t seen leaving Green Snake’s—who will know?”

“Do you know what you’re suggesting?”

Morning Dew’s eyes filled with compassion. “I do. Now go. If anyone comes looking for you, I’ll handle it. Trust me.”

Heron Wing pursed her lips, her heart hammering. “I can’t do this thing.”

“A moment ago, you were desperate. Don’t learn the lesson the way I did. Tonight may be all that you get.”

“Matron?” Old White’s hand settled lightly on Heron Wing’s shoulder. “It will be light soon. You should go.”

“I keep telling you, I’m not a matron.” Heron Wing sat up, Green Snake shifting beside her.

The Seeker crouched in the darkness. “It’s one of the curses of old age. I sometimes awaken early.”

“I hope we didn’t disturb you last night.”

She heard his hoarse laughter. “Nothing that memories . . . and a loathing envy for a lost youth can’t cope with.”

She pulled the blanket back, standing in the cold air. She found her dress and pulled it over her head, belting it at the waist.

“Is it morning?” Green Snake asked muzzily.

“You sleep. You had a busy night.”

She could see his teeth in the darkness, smile beaming.

“Thank you, Seeker,” she said as she stepped to the
door hanging and looked out into the predawn gloom. Seeing no one, she slipped along the wall, rounded the corner of the house, and followed her way quickly through the maze of Skunk Clan houses. She forced herself to keep from breaking into a run as she hurried along the northern margins of the plaza, aware that others were already about. If she met someone, what did she say? Clan business? Not coming from the direction of Old Camp Moiety grounds. That wouldn’t do.

She passed the empty squares and cut across to her house where it stood just east of the Great Mound. Passing the mortar and her tattered ramada, she ducked into her doorway and sighed with relief.

Gods, what would have happened if I had slept the morning away?
“Bless you, Seeker.”

She sighed, walked to the fire, and used a stick to fish for coals. After pushing them into a pile atop the ash, she went to the box of kindling by the door for tinder. Within moments a thin filament of smoke was replaced by a tiny dancing flame. One by one, she fed sticks until she had a fair blaze. Only then did she retreat to her sleeping bench and pull her dress over her head.