Night Shadow Star climbed the steps to the Earth Clans’ temple as the first rays of sunlight speared over the eastern bluffs. A bitter smile bent her lips as she heard the melodic voices of the priests. Lined along the mound’s eastern side, they sang the traditional greeting to the sun.
She stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back at the misty plaza that was now dotted by a handful of early risers. A few were laying offerings at the foot of the World Tree pole, and beyond them, on the other side of the chunkey courts, the Morning Star’s mighty pyramid rose, topped with the living god’s palace.
Piasa’s sibilant whisper was barely audible, as if he but mumbled under his breath. She shook off the feeling of anxiety, almost irritated that her master wouldn’t speak clearly.
She touched her forehead as she passed the lightning-scarred red cedar pole before the temple, then waited as the morning ritual on the eastern side of the temple was completed and Rides-the-Lightning led the small procession of his acolytes around the corner of the building.
Two young men walked in advance of the old soul flier, both acknowledging her with a respectful nod as they passed.
Rides-the-Lightning smiled, his white-blind eyes seeking her out, as if he saw with a different vision than ordinary men.
“Elder,” she greeted.
“Night Shadow Star. Why am I not surprised to find you waiting at my door?”
“I need to speak with you.”
“You? Or your frightening lord?” Before she could answer, he added, “You, I would guess. The Water Panther casts but a dim filament of shadow upon you this morning.”
“You see a great deal for a man who is blind.”
“It was only after my eyesight faded that I began to see anything, my lady.” He smiled, the action exposing his toothless gums, the wrinkles on his ancient face rearranging around his flat mushroom-shaped nose. “Come. Share a cup of tea with me, and tell me how I can be of service.”
She followed him into the dark interior of the great temple, taking a seat on one of the blankets by the fire as he lowered himself beside her.
One of the priests dropped to his knees to dip tea from the ceramic pot that rested beside the coals. He handed a cup first to Rides-the-Lightning and then one to Night Shadow Star before rising and walking off to join the others who occupied themselves at the benches in the back.
Rides-the-Lighting sniffed at the steam rising from his cup and nodded. “Mint and phlox tea with rosehips. Most refreshing in the morning when shared with a good friend.”
Night Shadow Star smiled at that and sipped her tea before saying, “Thank you.”
Rides-the-Lightning studied her across the rim of his cup, his opaque white eyes seeming to burn right through her. “I cannot help you to deal with the terrible Spirit that inhabits the Itza’s war standard. That is beyond me. Nor do I see any foreign enchantments or magics cast upon you in the form of witchery.”
“Piasa would have warned me.” She smiled wearily. “My needs lie more along the lines of Spirit plants like squaw root, wild celery, juniper root, mistletoe, and anything else you might suggest.”
“I see.” He nodded, his ancient fingers caressing his cup with its extended handle. “Such medicines would be available in the Four Winds Clan Women’s House. Why would you come to me instead?”
“Gossip would blow like a relentless wind from within the Women’s House to cover the entire city. Some aspects of my relationship with my new husband, I would prefer to remain private.”
Rides-the-Lightning grinned. “The arrival of the Itza has given the people enough to talk about as it is. What need do they have of even more distraction, eh?”
He turned, calling, “Would one of you be so kind as to bring the lady that black-and-white bag from inside the frog jar beneath Blue Serpent’s bed?”
She watched one of the priests walk to a bed in the rear and bend down to rummage among the storage beneath.
Rides-the-Lightning lowered his voice. “We teeter on the edge, Lady. These are very dangerous times, and none of my auguries are reassuring. With the arrival of the Itza, Power could shift as violently as it did when Black Tail resurrected the Morning Star. As radically as Cahokia changed then, it could just as easily swing toward the Itza.”
“He has Old-Woman-Who-Never-Dies’ protection. I can’t kill him. Nor can I allow him to win.”
“The ways of the Itza are not evil, Lady. Just different. As different as the Four Winds’ ways were from Petaga’s. As though we are seeing another face of Power, but one with completely different features. If you win, we stay the same. If he wins, we become a different people. Either way, we nevertheless remain a people. Or so Power sees it.”
She nodded, a sense of futility filling her.
“Tell me of yourself, Night Shadow Star. Not of gods, Spirits, and Power, but of the worried young woman living inside your skin.”
“Fire Cat was gone this morning.” She stared down into her tea. “I think … I hope he went with the thief. As soon as the Itza slept, I removed myself from the bed. Huddled on the floor with a blanket over my shoulders. Spirit voices filled the darkness. I could hear them whispering, making curious buzzing noises. They told me terrible things. That because I married the Itza, Blue Heron was plotting against me. That Fire Cat hated me.”
She shook her head. “Can these things be true?”
Rides-the-Lightning placed an age-withered hand on hers. “Lady, you must listen to me and hear my words. Make them part of your souls. The Itza comes with foreign and mysterious Spirit Power that he uses in ways we do not understand. A terrible Power inhabits that serpent standard that accompanies him wherever he goes. The whispers you hear which are not Piasa? They are lies to weaken you, separate you from your friends.”
“They seem so real.”
“Would they be persuasive if they didn’t? Ignore them, Night Shadow Star. They seek to mislead you and divide you from the people who love you. If they succeed in distracting you, you will be destroyed along with all that you hold dear.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
The priest walked forward, extending the frog-shaped jar.
Rides-the-Lightning received it, caressing it with his age-callused fingers.
She said, “I find it interesting that you would put the Spirit plants I seek in a jar crafted to look like a frog.”
“You understand the nature of the Spirit plants you’ve requested?”
She nodded. “They will keep his seed from taking root in my womb. Their Power and my will to remain barren against his Power and will to impregnate me.”
“Use them with discretion, Night Shadow Star. No more than one cup of tea a day. And do not be surprised if your moon passes without bleeding.” He reached into a pouch by his side, removing an intricately tied knot the size of a green walnut. “Take this. The dark stain you see around the cord is menstrual blood. Soak it with your own when your moon comes. Hide the knot beneath your bedding when he lays with you. The knot will draw the Spirit of his seed, confuse it, and bind it within the knot. Keep it from finding its way.”
She took a deep breath, a faint sense of relief flickering within her for first time. “Thank you, old friend.”
“Be very careful, Night Shadow Star. Do not underestimate the lengths he will go to, or the Power that resides in that snake standard of his.”
“Yes, Soul Flier.”
Taking the knot, she clutched it to her breast and rose. “And the voices … I will remember that they are lies.”
“If they should persuade you otherwise…”
She nodded. “Then I am lost.”