Night Shadow Star’s preparations had taken longer than usual. She’d tried on several of her finer garments, finally settling on a midnight-black skirt that clung to her hips and accented her athletic legs toned by stickball. In the end she chose a lightweight black fabric cloak adorned with jagged white lightning bolts. Copper, pearl, and shell necklaces hung to the tops of her breasts. Polished copper pins secured her hair in the bun she had wound tightly atop her head.
On the way out the door she added a final accoutrement that brought a smile to Fire Cat’s lips: She picked up a slender-handled war club fitted with a copper ax head just above a vicious copper spike.
She’d ordered Fire Cat to wear his usual armor, to sling his bow and quiver over his shoulder, and take his best war club.
“Going as the dark Spirit of death?” he asked after they touched their foreheads in respect to the guardian posts and trotted down her stairs. Green Stick and a small squad of Panther Clan warriors waited.
The warriors cleared the way, calling, “Make way for Lady Night Shadow Star!”
The crowd was thicker than normal where it lined the Avenue of the Sun in preparation for the arrival of the Itza. It seemed odd to see the thoroughfare kept clear of its usual traffic.
“Death?” Something stirred in the dark depths of her eyes. “There are many kinds of death, Red Wing. I fear we may rue this day for many years to come.”
At the foot of the great mound’s stairway, she paused. “Whatever happens, do not act unless I order you. You can do that, can’t you?”
“That’s my vow.”
She arched a narrow eyebrow, a curiously warm smile on her lips. “Your honor is exactly what worries me.”
He didn’t have time to question her further as she started up, taking the steps two at a time, as if driven by some internal conflict.
At the Council Terrace Gate, Tonka’tzi Wind waited along with a collection of Earth Clan chiefs and matrons.
“A war club, Niece?” Tonka’tzi Wind scowled at her weapon.
“On this day symbols are important, Aunt.”
Wind’s eyes narrowed at Night Shadow Star’s black dress—the color of death and the Underworld—but she said nothing more.
Fire Cat took his place at Night Shadow Star’s back, aware of the effect his armed appearance had on the Earth Clan chiefs.
“Look, here he comes,” the Panther Clan chief, Kills Four, said, pointing.
Fire Cat turned his eyes to the west, looking out beyond the observatory’s circle of upright posts. After the morning storm, the air was unusually clear, allowing the eye to follow the concentration of buildings and mounds clear to the jog where the Avenue of the Sun bent southwest at Black Tail’s tomb. He could even make out the tiny skyline of Evening Star Town on the Father Water’s western bluff a half day’s travel to the west. No stranger to Cahokia’s immensity, the sight still awed him.
The Itza’s approach reminded him of a snake: the Itza on his litter at the head, the body that of the crowd as they followed in procession down the avenue.
He’s just one man, he reminded himself.
But so was the pretend Morning Star, and look at the incredible transformation he’d inspired. Before his supposed resurrection, what was now Cahokia had been a series of scattered, warring towns.
While the others chatted in excited anticipation, Fire Cat could sense Night Shadow Star’s growing apprehension. In the time since he’d bound himself to her, he’d learned to read her subtle signals: the tensing of her back and set of her shoulders, the slight pinching of the eyes.
Today he knew that Piasa’s Spirit was whispering in her ear, as it always did after she’d had a tortured night’s sleep.
His thoughts turned to that day when he had saved her life on the river, to her cold body as he crouched over her, pressing the water from her lungs. How her mouth felt on his as he breathed life and soul into her slack body. If only he could find a way to—
Fool! She’s your enemy. Sister to that misbegotten thing sitting up in the palace.
He forced himself to think of his wives, now condemned to endure who knew what kind of indignities. He tried to imagine his murdered children and kin, bits of their corpses mired in mud at the bottom of the Father Water.
Yes, that’s it. Hate. Nourish that sense of injustice.
The procession was passing the Four Winds Plaza, and he could see the litter with its single occupant following some sort of feathered snake standard.
Night Shadow Star turned to him. “Follow me.”
“Where are you going?” Tonka’tzi Wind asked, shooting her niece a suspicious look.
“To take my proper place,” Night Shadow Star answered as she walked through the Council Terrace Gate.
“The Morning Star ordered that you greet the Itza here.”
“Yes,” Night Shadow Star called over her shoulder. “I suppose he did.”
Fire Cat couldn’t help the wry smile that bent his lips as he followed his lady.