People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (55 page)

The water lapped at Two Petals’ toes. She stared out at the river, seeing the swirling surface, watching the ripples move as though churned by a great serpent’s back somewhere in the deep. To her right, the sun remained but a glow beneath the eastern horizon. The surface had taken on a silver gleam, the same color as the nugget Trader had given the Kaskinampo chief.

Her husband’s musical Song was like a soothing tonic. It washed around her souls with a warm gentleness that lulled her. She need not be excited; it was only a matter of time. And she had grown accustomed to time. After having watched it flow past her for so long, what was another short observance? She had almost reached the headwaters of her journey. Were she to turn inside herself, she could see her long-awaited goal.

She tilted her head back, sniffing the wet scents of mud and water. Through it, she thought she could detect a subtle musk.

She said wistfully, “I’ll be coming soon.”

“Yes, I know.”

“So little, and so much is left.”

“What will be, will be.”

“Will the Dreams end?”

“Only the confusion.”

She smiled at that. A sense of relief washed through her.

“He comes.”

“Of course.”

She heard the first faint slaps of his hard feet on the damp sand, seeing him through the eye of her soul. That vision had greater clarity than anything her eyes observed.

She knew the moment that he saw her, could feel his
curiosity as he pounded toward her. She could sense the rhythm of his heart, knew the swelling of his lungs and the heat of his muscles. Her tongue tasted the sweat that glistened on his skin.

He slowed, panting. “You’re here again?”

“I wished to speak with my husband.”

“You don’t have a husband yet,” he chided.

“Yes, I know. But soon.” Before he could say more, she told him, “You have a trial coming in the tchkofa today.”

“What kind of trial?”

“Those who oppose you have gathered forces. Green Snake has laid his plans.”

“Green Snake?” Smoke Shield’s voice was laced with acid. “He has been in contact? With whom? Blood Skull?”

“Among others. They know what you’ve done. They have evidence.”

“Evidence!” He spat the word. “They have nothing but accusations. I’ve heard them all before.”

“You will hear them again.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, I assure you. But I thank you for your warning.” He paused. “I assume he has an agent here, someone working on his behalf?”

“He does. Your uncle.”

“Flying Hawk?”

“No.” She kept her eyes on the river.

“He’s my uncle, Prophet.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Sometimes the things you say are so confusing.”

She lifted her arms helplessly. “It is so hard to speak this way, especially when the one I speak to will not listen.”

“So, Flying Hawk is working with Green Snake. He should have known better. This time, he’s gone too far.” She heard the decision in his voice.

“You have bound yourself to the future, Smoke Shield.”

“Just how does Green Snake think he can bend the Council to his wishes?”

“Through truth . . . and copper.”

He lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Wasn’t it you who told me last night that truth is an ever-flitting bird, flying here and there?”

“Its wings catch the light. Only the feathers, lost one by one, fall to the ground.”

Smoke Shield squinted out at the river. “Why does he think a gift of copper will sway the Council?”

“Wait until you see it.”

“Very well. You say it will be mine anyway.”

She asked, “How much is your future worth?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You seek Power.”

He clasped a fist before her face, the muscles in his arm swelling and corded. “I
have
Power.”

“Does that mean that you have no desire to bind yourself to Power forever? In a way that can never be taken from you?”

His eyes narrowed. “You could do this?”

She shook her head. “No, but you could . . . if you will make the offering.”

“What do I offer?”

“The copper is the only gift Power will accept. If you carry it out there”—she pointed at the swirling water—“Power will swell around you, and the people will stand in awe. At that moment, all of your Dreams of greatness will be fulfilled. You will become what no high minko ever has before. You shall experience what even the lords of Cahokia could not. That is the offering you must make. Otherwise, you shall wander homeless, and in shame.”

“What you say, this is all true?”

“For the first time, High Minko, you have a choice.” She smiled. “It is your future.”

He chuckled. “Then I shall have to have this copper.
And I shall do what even the lords of Cahokia did not.”

“It doesn’t come freely. It will cost you the copper.”

“Nothing comes free. As to the copper, I can always take more.”

“Mother? Are you all right?” Stone asked, looking up from the matting where he played with his little clay dog.

Heron Wing stopped short, staring down at the open box with its neatly folded dresses. Through the door she could see the long shadow of her house cast by the morning sun. The pointed tip almost touched the base of the Great Mound. “I’m all right.”

“You don’t sound all right. Are you sad about Morning Dew running away?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I miss her.”

“Me, too.”

“She should have stayed.”

“I know.” She turned. “You must understand: People want to go where they think they’re safe. For her, that was among her own Chahta.”

“I know.” He looked up. “But I’ve been practicing with my racquets. She’d want to see how good I am now.”

“I’m sure she would.”

She turned back to the dresses, sorting through them until she found a bright red one with round oyster shell beads sewn on the front. This she removed and shook out. Seeing no holes or stains, she removed her brown work dress and pulled the red one over her head. Then she closed the box and shoved it back under the sleeping bench. She combed her hair, wishing that her hands wouldn’t tremble so.

Nothing would be the same after today. The gods alone knew what the future would bring. And somewhere out to the west, Great Cougar was approaching at the head of his warriors.

“Stone?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to listen very carefully. Sometime soon there may be fighting.”

“Fighting?” He looked up wide-eyed.

“The Chahta might attack. No one knows when. If they do, and I’m not here, I want you to run and hide. You run straight east to the ravine, do you understand?”

He nodded, suddenly worried.

“When you reach the ravine, take the steep trail down and hide under the brush at the bottom. You be very quiet. When it is all over, I will come for you. If for some reason I do not, you wait for two days. Then you come out after dark and peek over the top. If there are no warriors, you go and find your kin among the Panther Clan.”

He just stared at her in disbelief.

She settled beside him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “You know that the palisade is down?”

He nodded.

“That’s why you have to go hide in the brush. Warriors could swarm all over the city. No house would be safe. That brush in the bottom is so green it won’t burn. You can wait two days if you have to, can’t you?”

He nodded.

She smiled. “It won’t come to that, but what did I always tell you about being prepared?”

“I know.”

“Good.” She stood, trying to exhale the tension in her chest. Then she reached for the box that held her necklaces. She picked four of the thick white shell strands and hung them over her neck. Looking down at
herself, she pressed her dress flat along her hips, and finally decided on a white sash made from the finest hemp. This she doubled around her slim waist and left the fringed tails to hang at her side.

“How do I look?”

“Stunning,” Green Snake said from the doorway.

She turned, and her hand rose to her throat. “I wish you didn’t sound so much like your brother.”

“So do I, but there’s not much I can do about it until he stops talking.”

He wore a buffalo-calf cape edged with copper beads and a wide breechcloth with a long-tailed white apron. On the front of it an eagle had been embroidered in black thread. His hair was washed and pulled back in a bun that was pinned with a stunning copper pin that flared into a turkey-tail design.

“That’s a Chief Clan symbol,” she noted.

“If I was Panther Clan, you’d be like a sister to me. I wouldn’t like that.”

“Gods, how can you act so calm?”

“Part of the Power of Trade, I suppose.” He grinned. “I’m hoping to Trade my brother’s future for my own.” He glanced down. “Stone? I need you to do me a favor.”

Her son nodded, still cowed by the notion of having to go hide.

“Swimmer?” Trader called.

The dog trotted in, ears up, tail swishing.

“Stone? Will you take care of Swimmer while your mother and I are at the Council? Now, don’t overfeed him! Only a few treats. But you can play stick all you want.”

Stone’s face beamed as he dropped his clay dog and went to run his fingers through Swimmer’s thick fur. “You and me can play stick all day.”

Heron Wing found a smile somewhere; then she
noticed the square fabric pack Green Snake carried. It seemed to pull down on his shoulders, as though extremely heavy. “What’s that?”

“A miracle,” he told her. “Are you ready?”

“Breath Giver help me. No, I’m not. I’d give anything to be sitting in your canoe right now, headed downstream.”

“Who knows? If this goes wrong, and I can get away, grab Stone and the dog, we’ll be gone.” He smiled courageously. “But let’s try it Power’s way first.”

She nodded, willing herself to move. “Stone, you remember what I told you?”

He nodded, and she took one last moment to pat her son’s head before walking purposefully for the door.

The familiar feel of the wooden pack on his back, and the heavy fabric bag over his shoulder, had a calming effect on Old White. Across countless mountains, deserts, forests, and swamps these familiar weights had been his companions. Now they accompanied him on their final journey across the beaten grass of the plaza.

Seven Dead waited right where he had said he would: beside the first guardian post. Blood Skull, dressed in finery, stood at his side, a battered war club hanging from his belt. Both men had pulled their warriors’ locks through polished white shell beads, their faces were painted, and raccoon-hide capes hung from their shoulders.

“Looks like a fine morning, Tishu Minko,” Old White greeted. “And good day to you, warrior.”

“Seeker,” Seven Dead greeted, tension in the set of his mouth.

“And the scouts we discussed last night?” Old White asked.

Blood Skull said, “I have sent twenty trusted men, all with precise instructions. They’re spaced so that not even a deer could emerge from the forest without one knowing. All are fleet of foot, and should be able to outrace any of the Chahta scouts getting back here.”

“Let us hope that Great Cougar comes later rather than sooner,” Seven Dead said.

“On that, I most assuredly agree,” Old White told him. He glanced up at the tchkofa stairs. “Shall we see what happens?”

“The guards at the top are Raccoon Clan.” Seven Dead smiled grimly. “Appointing the guards is the tishu minko’s responsibility.”

“And the Albaamaha?”

Blood Skull jerked his head toward the side of the mound. “Just out of sight. Amber Bead brought them just as you said he would.” He made a face. “I don’t like the idea of Albaamaha leveling charges against Sky Hand in our own tchkofa.”

Old White gave him a disarming smile. “You’d like a revolt even less, warrior. But think about it: In the eyes of Power, isn’t justice, justice?”

“Are you always this persuasive?” Blood Skull asked suspiciously.

“After all my years, I would hope that some sort of wisdom has stuck to these bones.”

“Let us go,” Seven Dead said. “I can see Smoke Shield descending the Sun Stairs.”

Old White nodded, following the man up the wooden stairway to the palisade. “And Green Snake?”