The warm evening came as a relief after the hot and muggy day. A thousand insects silvered the sunset skies; they hovered on diaphanous wings over the ponds and lakes. Which, of course, presaged a miserable swarm of mosquitoes as the skies darkened. Cahokia was a haven for mosquitoes, with its oxbow lakes, creeks, and marshes. And the summer had been a wet one. Remarkable stands of corn and bountiful gardens, like all things in life, were counterbalanced by the humming misery of endless airborne blood-suckers.
Grease, puccoon, larkspur, gumweed, and any other combination of insect repellents had been in great demand. Some said that what was asked for in Trade for a good repellent was criminal.
Heeding that, Seven Skull Shield stole a pot of something odd-smelling from a roadside stand, figuring one good crime deserved another.
Now he strode through the thick warren of society houses, warehouses, craft shops, temples, and granaries. His nose wrinkled at the sweet stench of a Panther Clan charnel house when he wound through the densely packed clutter around River Mounds City. He followed a beaten path in the black sandy soil to where Crazy Frog’s two-story house rose beside what passed as an avenue.
Fronting the structure was a relatively spacious yard with a large ramada and a round sweat lodge off to the side. A collection of gaudily dressed athletic young men had gathered around the central fire pit. A cadre of equally adorned young women laughed and ate behind them. This was the nightly gathering of victorious chunkey players and their women. To be invited to Crazy Frog’s for whatever feast Mother Otter had concocted was considered to be a high honor.
Seven Skull Shield stopped short, batting at a mosquito that hummed in defiance of the greasy mixture he’d slathered over his skin. Crazy Frog had five wives as of the moment, each of them remarkably attractive in her own way. Call them exquisite.
But it was Mother Otter, the oldest, that always left Seven Skull Shield sighing. That she was ten years his senior, had borne twelve children, and for the most part treated him like scum didn’t matter. She just had something—a special quality that stated “I am all woman, and more than you can handle.” He’d been fascinated for years.
Now he watched her as she moved gracefully around the fire, collecting plates, sharing jokes with the chunkey players, and giving more than one that lift of the eyebrow that so convincingly communicated a dismissive wry amusement.
Seven Skull Shield chuckled at himself and started forward, tired from his hurried journey and wishing he’d stopped to steal more than mosquito repellent. His stomach was empty.
As he walked into the firelight, Mother Otter glanced up, her full-lipped smile tightening into a thin line.
“Greetings, Mother Otter,” Seven Skull Shield told her with a lascivious grin. “You ready to toss that withered wreckage you’re married to and run off with a man who’d give you what you deserve?”
“Assuming I could ever find such a man, he’d know I deserved better than to be plagued by two-footed vermin and thieves. And that means he’d drive the likes of you away with a club.” Her forced smile tightened. “So, you’d better be grateful that I stay with Crazy Frog. Among his few failings, he tolerates you on occasion.”
The chunkey players laughed, and Seven Skull Shield’s grin widened. “You’ve always been my favorite, Mother.”
Her frozen smile bent into a wince. “And you’ve always been my worst nightmare, thief.” She hooked a thumb. “He wants to see you around back.” She hesitated. “Oh, and I know you’re driven to steal stuff, but could you leave the contents of the latrine alone this time?”
The chunkey players broke into unrestrained guffaws, and she turned her attention back to the plates.
Shaking his head, Seven Skull Shield made his way around the corner of the house to the rear, where Crazy Frog’s storage building was wedged between three structures. The only way in was through the narrow passage. Like usual, a large man armed with a war club stood in the shadows.
“Who comes?”
“Seven Skull Shield. Crazy Frog sent for me.”
“You know how it’s done?”
“Been here before.” Seven Skull Shield walked up to the door, called out his name, and slipped under the heavy cloth hanging, then parted the thick curtains that allowed him into the room. A second man, club in hand, gave him a nod instead of bashing his brains in.
The room was larger than it looked from the outside despite the double-set log walls. Here Crazy Frog kept his wealth. Most of it he’d won betting on chunkey games. The rest came from less savory activities. As a result of his wealth and political acumen, the man had built a network of obligations and alliances throughout the riverfront community. Some agreement had been brokered with High Chief War Duck, which created a mutually beneficial relationship.
Crazy Frog reclined on a litter chair placed atop two large and ornately carved wooden boxes. He had his elbows braced on the chair arms, feet kicked out before him. The rest of the room was packed with boxes, bales, baskets, and shelving brimming with pots, carvings, statuary, and other prestige goods.
Across from him, atop a thick and folded buffalo robe, sat the dwarf known as Flat Stone Pipe. When standing, the little man’s head barely reached the middle of Seven Skull Shield’s thigh. But only a fool judged Flat Stone Pipe by his size. He served Matron Columella, the ruler of Evening Star Town and the territory west of the river. Though Columella’s younger brother—a man named Burned Bone—had succeeded High Dance as high chief of Evening Star House, she still called the shots.
That she had survived in the first place, let alone emerged supreme after Walking Smoke’s treachery and the burning of her palace, was a testament to her political skill. In addition, Flat Stone Pipe’s acumen and network of informers had been indispensable. Rumor had it that he was not only Columella’s lover, but the father of several of her children.
The little man had his head cocked, inspecting Seven Skull Shield.
Seven Skull Shield gave him a smile. “I hope whatever it is turns out to be worth it. I left a remarkable stickball game to make it here in time.”
“I’m delighted that you still have amusements. I hear you’ve come on hard times,” Flat Stone Pipe said thoughtfully. “Old friends would sooner associate with maggot-infested corpses than be seen talking to you.”
“They’ll come around. Everyone likes a little charm in their lives. And if I’m anything, it’s charming.”
Crazy Frog chuckled. “You couldn’t charm a fly off a week-old turd.” His expression hardened. “Was the Keeper satisfied with the information I provided?”
“She was. Wish you’d had something that would have let us keep the Natchez Little Sun alive. It would have made a lot of things easier.”
“How so?” Flat Stone Pipe asked.
“He’d have been the new Great Sun.”
Crazy Frog lifted his hands. “What would that have changed? The Natchez would have still brought the Itza here. What’s one Great Sun instead of another?”
“Maybe nothing,” Seven Skull Shield admitted, then added, “Maybe everything.”
“The Itza is really going to marry Night Shadow Star?” Flat Stone Pipe asked.
“It appears so.” Seven Skull Shield glanced back and forth between the two. “Why, specifically, did you ask me here?”
Flat Stone Pipe gave him a thoughtful appraisal. “A whispered voice told me that the man called Horn Lance, the one who came in advance of the Itza, paid a visit to High Chief Green Chunkey. Among other things, they talked about the Keeper and her allies. In particular, anyone who might have acted as her agent in stealing that now-infamous feather cloak you were looking for.”
Seven Skull Shield kept his face blank. “I see. Anyone found it yet?”
“You might know better than I. Word is that Green Chunkey mentioned a certain thief who is known to work for the Keeper. Horn Lance has begun making inquiries among various parties about how to locate the thief.” Flat Stone Pipe paused. “Fortunately, Horn Lance is new to Cahokia and its ways. He hasn’t asked the right people.”
“Yet,” Crazy Frog added. “But he will.”
Flat Stone Pipe pasted a humorless smile on his face. “Loyalty is such a fleeting thing, isn’t it? Old friends, once boon companions, suddenly find themselves disposed to sell out a comrade for the price of an exotic Natchez pot or remarkable Itza knickknack.”
“Why does he want me?” Seven Skull Shield scratched his cheek. “I’m not going to tell him anything, even if I knew it. And taking me isn’t going to gain him any leverage with the Keeper. She could give a moldy acorn if I get in trouble or not.”
“You took the cloak. An act that both humiliated and threatened Horn Lance and the Natchez.” Crazy Frog leaned forward and propped his chin. “You are one of the Keeper’s agents. Capturing you, torturing you to death, and dropping your body someplace public sends her a most eloquent message.”
“Why warn me? This Horn Lance might have Traded you some extraordinary Itza artifact in return for my hide.”
“I might still do it,” Crazy Frog mused. “Having you gone would simplify my first wife’s life. She wouldn’t have to dedicate so much of her day searching for ever-more-derogatory ways to describe you to people who haven’t made your charming acquaintance.”
Seven Skull Shield glanced at the dwarf and lifted an eyebrow.
Flat Stone Pipe said, “You did me a service once. In return, I can keep you safe. It might mean removing yourself to Evening Star Town until—”
“I appreciate that, but I’ll take my chances.”
Crazy Frog added, “You won’t know who to trust. They’ll be hunting you everywhere.”
Seven Skull Shield shrugged. “This is my city. Nobody knows it like I do.”
“It’s your life, no matter how little you value it.” Crazy Frog shook his head.
“My offer remains open.” Flat Stone Pipe pointed with one of his small fingers. “I pay my debts.”
“Anything else?” Seven Skull Shield asked.
“The Itza,” Crazy Frog said. “What does his arrival here mean? Are there going to be more of them coming? Is there going to be Trade?”
Seven Skull Shield laughed bitterly. “There’s only going to be trouble. Come on, think! The Itza and Horn Lance arrived among the Natchez, offering the potential for miraculous Trade. The next thing, the old Great Sun and White Woman are dead. A new lineage is in charge, and to keep it that way, they kill Nine Strikes before he even knows he’s the new Great Sun.”
“Then why even bring the Itza to Cahokia? Why not keep him and his potential Trade in Natchez?” Flat Stone Pipe wondered.
“Because he came all this way to see the Morning Star.” Seven Skull Shield shifted on his feet since there wasn’t room to pace. “The Natchez don’t want to be just another bead on the string, one among a series of Nations between Cahokia and Chichen Itza. They want it all.”
Flat Stone Pipe, smart as he was, straightened. “That means the Natchez have to discredit Cahokia and the Morning Star. Make it so the Itza have no reason to seek relations with us.”
“How would they do that?” Seven Skull Shield fingered his chin.
Crazy Frog shrugged. “Lots of ways. Incite the Houses to turn on each other. Nothing new there. And Horn Lance has already started laying the groundwork with Green Chunkey. Attempt an assassination of the Itza lord, murder some of his warriors, make him think the Morning Star is a fraud like so many people up and down the river already do. The choices are endless just as long as they end up with the Itza in a canoe headed back to the loving arms of the Natchez.”
“Or,” Flat Stone Pipe offered, “it could be that even Horn Lance is being played.”
“Could be,” Crazy Frog agreed. “However it works out, why do I think the Natchez end up as the only winners?”
“Because they are the only ones who know what the real goal of the game is.” Flat Stone Pipe pressed his small hands together. “In the meantime they sow discord. Horn Lance, brewing trouble among the Houses, keeps everyone off balance. The perfect distraction.”
“And the Itza?” Seven Skull Shield wondered.
“He’s the fool in the center, completely unaware that he’s being played by everyone.” Flat Stone Pipe gave a shrug of his diminutive shoulders. “That doesn’t mean he, too, isn’t dangerous in his own way. Even a fool can let loose a maelstrom.”
“He’ll be lucky to get out of this alive,” Seven Skull Shield said thoughtfully.
“No more so than you,” Flat Stone Pipe reminded. “The Natchez want you dead. And in light of what we’ve been talking about, killing you might have just become a really important part of their plan.”