“Quite a crowd you’ve managed to draw.” Horn Lance cradled his chin between thumb and forefinger. He stood at the edge of the Avenue of the Sun and surveyed the people who’d stopped to gawk at the Natchez embassy. The structure was a simple four-sided, trench-wall building, its thatch roof grayed by the passing of seasons. A single guardian post topped with a sun emblem stood out front by a recently reroofed ramada. An elevated storehouse, in the southern style, rested on four posts at the southwest corner. A latrine screen was just visible behind the building.
A small squad of warriors kept the curious at bay.
“Word travels fast,” his younger companion replied. In Cahokia, with its teeming and varied peoples, the young man’s hairstyle didn’t draw attention, parted in the middle as it was, braided, and drawn into separate buns like blunt horns.
At that moment, an older woman—gray haired, wearing a fine red skirt, her shoulders covered with a light fabric cloak—stepped out of the door. The ancient sunburst tattoos on her face looked faded, partially obscured by the wrinkles lining her cheeks.
“Ah, now there she is.” Horn Lance crossed his arms, feeling the twinge of joint ache in his left.
“Who is she?”
“Clan Keeper Blue Heron. Look at her, Swirling Cloud. Study her. If there’s anyone who can bring this all crashing down around us, it will be her.”
Swirling Cloud shifted the pack on his back, head cocked. “She’s an old woman.”
“So was your storied White Woman. And you know how canny and clever she was.”
“She wasn’t quite clever enough. Against Thirteen Sacred Jaguar? She never suspected a thing. Her body, along with Nine Strikes’ brother’s, is rotting in the blessed earth of the great mound, surrounded by the strangled bodies of her guards and servants.”
“Which allowed your mother to become the White Woman, and your brother the Great Sun. Your people are about to remake the lower river into a Nation to rival Cahokia.” Horned Lance shared a victorious smile with the younger man. “Think grandly, Little Sun. Played correctly, you can become one of the most influential men in the world. Great Sun in place of your brother? That could be only the beginning.”
Swirling Cloud’s lips bent into a smirk as he watched Clan Keeper Blue Heron walk to a litter and seat herself. As her porters lifted her, and a couple of warriors cleared a path through the crowd, the woman’s head was bent, a pinched expression on her face. She was inspecting a crow feather with a displeased expression.
“Ah, they’ve found the feather.”
“May it lead them on a merry chase. Meanwhile, you’re free to take the next steps in your assent to the pinnacle of Natchez society.”
“You’re assuming I want to remain stuck in the Great Sun’s temple, settling petty squabbles, marrying commoner women, and begetting futureless children. Thirteen Sacred Jaguar wants to remake our world.” He turned to the east, where Morning Star’s palace rose like a wedge against the sky. “The real Power, unbeknownst to my silly brother, lies here. At Cahokia.” He paused. “The four messengers should arrive any day now to pave the way for Thirteen Sacred Jaguar’s arrival. Then the fun really starts.”
“That’s assuming that Thirteen Sacred Jaguar can prevail.” Horn Lance rubbed his scarred chin as he watched Blue Heron’s litter vanish down the crowded Avenue of the Sun. “And to do that, we cannot underestimate either the Morning Star or Blue Heron.”
“How do you know so much about her?”
“She was the one who had me exiled.”
“For what?”
“Oh, before we started to hate each other, she was my wife.”