Blue Heron blinked in an effort to stay awake. Body exhausted. Souls drifting. Her thoughts seemed to spin as aimlessly as a spindle whorl on a hardwood plank.
What is Horn Lance’s end game?
Crack that one puzzle and she would know exactly how to handle the situation.
Instead of clarity, her fatigued souls kept replaying scenes from the day’s events. Most were dominated by the Itza in his incredible iridescent-green feathered cape, the eye-popping colors, the remarkable soaring headdress with its plumes. The stunning fabrics.
Through the entire evening, the man had sat as if he were enduring the most boring night of his life. His face had been expressionless, the black eyes dismissively studying the room from behind half lids. All that had been missing was the occasional yawn.
Only when he looked at Morning Star did the man’s visage change, keening the way a falcon’s did when in the presence of a hapless rodent.
Not even the hopelessly blind would have missed the tension between the two.
Blue Heron considered that as she stepped off her litter and nodded to Smooth Pebble. Crossing her veranda, she reached up and began pulling out the skewers that held her hair in its bun. Shaking her graying locks loose, she entered her palace, walked past her fire, and into her personal quarters.
It’s Horn Lance’s game. Not the Itza’s. The foreign fool doesn’t know he’s being played just as—
She started at the shadowy shape of a man sitting on her trunk.
“Easy there, Keeper,” Seven Skull Shield called in reassurance.
“Thief? By Piasa’s swinging balls, so help me, if you don’t start waiting outside like everyone else…” She gave up, shaking her head.
“You look like you’re about to fall over. Long night up at the palace?”
“Let us just say the Itza was greeted with style.” She stumbled over to her bed and sank onto the blankets with relief. “Make it quick. I want to sleep for a couple of moons.”
“What, exactly, does this Itza’s arrival mean?” Seven Skull Shield shrugged his thick shoulders. “Why is he so special? Foreign lords show up here all the time. As I understand it, he’s just from someplace a little farther away and therefore a bit more exotic. Why all the commotion over him and not some Timucua chief from down in the peninsula?”
She rubbed her gritty eyes. “Timucua utinas … that’s their word for chiefs … don’t build huge cities of stone the size of Cahokia. They don’t raise stone mounds halfway to the sky. Nor do Timucua utinas field armies of thousands as the Yucatec, Mixtec, Putun, and Itza are reputed to do. At least if we can believe the stories Traders tell.”
“Can we?”
“Apparently. You should have seen the gifts he presented to the Morning Star. Goods the likes of which I’ve never seen, but only heard about. So, if cacao, quetzal feathers, prayer paper, the rubber ball and the other things are real, does that mean the stone sky palaces, ball games, massive armies, and the ceremonial sacrifice of thousands of human beings are real as well?”
“Maybe. Just how far away is this Chichen Itza?”
“Think of it as being on the other side of the world.”
“Then why are we worried about one man and a handful of Natchez?”
She blinked, willing herself to think. “For the moment, it’s the excitement of what it could potentially mean for us. Especially Trade. The obstacle is the distance, the danger of crossing a huge open ocean, and a host of hostile and barbaric peoples between here and there.”
“So, is this Itza a Trader? Come to check out the local wares before heading back to the far distant, or is he thinking about staying for a while?”
She shot him a sidelong glance. “He’s marrying Night Shadow Star in four days. What’s that tell you?”
Seven Skull Shield crossed his arms, muscles bulging. “That’s quick.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And what did Night Shadow Star say about it?”
“Not a word. She and the Red Wing came dressed for war. But when the time came, she didn’t so much as open her mouth. In the end, she just stalked out.”
“What if she says no tomorrow or the next day?”
“She can’t. The Morning Star gave her up without so much as a flicker of his eye. It took me by such surprise that I risked my fool neck and asked for some time for the parties to consider. Bought us four days.”
“The Red Wing might kill him first.”
“What would he care who Night Shadow Star marries? He hates her. Something about being his captor and enemy.”
“Sure he does.” Sarcasm. “And I’ll bet when he heard he looked as red and choked up as if he’d stuck a plum pit halfway down his throat.”
“So you think he’s actually grown fond of her?”
“Keeper, I can drive the man half mad just by licking my lips in Night Shadow Star’s presence. Baiting the Red Wing is more fun than teasing a scorpion with a twig.”
“Does she feel the same way about him?”
“If I’m any judge of a woman? Which, of course I am. She’d bundle him off to her bed in a minute if he were anyone but the Red Wing. Never seen two people drawn to each other work so hard to convince themselves that they’re both forbidden.”
“Poor fool. He’d have better luck falling in love with a cougar.”
Seven Skull Shield shrugged. “So? If the Red Wing kills this Thirteen Sacred Jaguar, what of it? The Morning Star orders him hung in a square, and it’s all over. It’s not like the Itza will show up next spring with an army to avenge the murder if they’re as far away as you say. Meanwhile, Morning Star gets all the goods.”
“Maybe that’s why Morning Star gave Night Shadow Star up so easily. He’s planning on just that. But it doesn’t explain Horn Lance and the Natchez.” She pulled at the wattle under her chin. “That’s the part I don’t understand yet.”
“Well, you might want to give that some thought.” Seven Skull Shield shifted, reaching behind him. He tossed her a tightly bound, cylindrically rolled bundle of something.
She barely managed to catch it before it hit her in the chest. In the gloom, she fingered the bundle, recognizing the texture of a feather cape. “You found it? Where?”
“In a storage box among the things the Natchez piled into the Four Winds Men’s House. I decided we needed it more than the Natchez did, along with some other things to reimburse me for my time and effort.”
“So the Natchez are indeed behind Nine Strikes’ death.”
“Apparently so.”
She fingered the eagle-wing cloak, remembering how it was offered to the Little Sun.
“I can’t wait to see Swirling Cloud’s reaction when you hand him that.” Seven Skull Shield touched his chin in mock subservience.
“All in good time, thief.” She patted the rolled cloak. “Before we play the game, we need to figure out the rules and objectives.”
“And exactly who’s playing for which side,” Seven Skull Shield amended.
“For the moment, we don’t even know how many sides there are.”
As she ran her fingers over the cloak, she wondered if once again the thief had saved her life, or if, in some perverted way, the cloak would place her one step closer to disaster.
“Come. You and I, thief. We’re going back up that mound to tell the Morning Star.”
“What? Me?” he protested. “Why me?”
“Maybe I want you there to catch me if I fall.”