After leaving the dead Natchez in Blue Heron’s capable hands, Seven Skull Shield had headed west on the Avenue of the Sun, winding through the confusion of people, porters, and load-bearing parties that surged against and through each other. The busy thoroughfare served as the artery over which most of Cahokia’s lifeblood flowed.
Goods from all over arrived at the long canoe landing below River Mounds City: logs and timber from the north, corn, squash, cured buffalo hides, textiles, exotics from the south, cane, thatch, ceramics, copper from the distant north, sheets of mica from the far-off eastern mountains, tobacco and black drink tea from the gulf, the finest cherts and hardest sandstones, immense loads of both fresh water and more-prized saltwater shell. While some went to Horned Serpent Mounds or to Evening Star Town, the rest was carted up to River Mounds City, then along the Avenue of the Sun to central Cahokia, or up to North Star Mounds a half day’s walk above Cahokia.
The route—hemmed on the north by Marsh Elder Lake and on the south by swampy lowlands—was marked by the Black Tail’s great tumulus mound, which included Petaga’s grave. The monument was bordered by countless temples, charnel and clan houses, and served the clusters of farmsteads that occupied every spare bit of arable soil between the Avenue of the Sun and the marshy lowlands.
He might have heard thirty different languages, seen people dressed in all manners of style, their hair done in what he would have thought peculiar fashions. These were the “dirt farmers,” the immigrants that had crowded into Cahokia from every direction to share the miracle of the resurrected Morning Star.
Each of the closely spaced dwellings had a small garden plot, ramada, pestle, and log mortar. They clustered around an associated council house and chunkey court, usually overseen by one of the Earth Clans. Nearby were temples dedicated to Old-Woman-Who-Never-Dies and to the Morning Star, a charnel house, sweat lodge, and low conical burial mound.
Having arrived at River Mounds City, Seven Skull Shield wandered among the warren of stalls and workshops, striking up conversations with the craftsmen and Traders. Anyone seeking to rid himself of a valuable cloak—especially one gifted from the shoulders of the Morning Star himself—had only a limited number of places to dispose of it for profit. Most of them were in River Mounds City or its associated canoe landing, where a thousand vessels a day might land or depart for the vast river system that linked the Cahokian world.
The individuals who might traffic in a stolen cloak thrived in the underbelly of Cahokia’s narrow passages. And there, Seven Skull Shield was most at home.
He was wondering what to do about his empty stomach when a fortuitous shouting match broke out between two rival potters vying for space to display their wares. When a young woman with a sack full of goosefoot bread stopped to watch, he was able to pluck one of the loaves from the top of her open pack.
Slipping between two warehouses, he munched appreciatively as he made his way to the ramshackle abode occupied by Mud Foot. A scrawny Deer Clan man with a twitchy left eye, Mud Foot had been disgraced by some indiscretion his clan had considered intolerable. He had ended up providing various “services” to the stream of Traders who flowed through the canoe landing. Neither Mud Foot’s appearance nor his dwelling reflected his true wealth or influence among the footloose adventurers who’d flocked to Cahokia. He’d learned long ago that camouflage was a necessary survival skill.
To Seven Skull Shield’s delight, Mud Foot was seated in the shade of his ratty ramada, counting out shell beads to two young undernourished women.
“That’s all,” Mud Foot told them. “But if you want more, come back tonight. I can find you more work.”
Both of the women nodded, smiled, and rose to hurry away.
Seven Skull Shield took another bite of his bread as Mud Foot glanced up. At the sight of him, Mud Foot’s left eye really began to twitch. “Oh, it’s you.”
“That’s a fine greeting,” Seven Skull Shield muttered through his mouthful. He ambled over, glancing around to see who was near. Stuck as it was in the narrow confines between a weaver’s workshop and two warehouses, Mud Foot’s house always had privacy. “You’re hiring scrawny dirt farmers these days? And barely more than girls?”
Mud Foot shrugged, looking oddly uncomfortable. “A handful of beads can be traded for a couple of loaves of bread. They’ll have full bellies tonight, and the Traders whose beds they warmed didn’t care if they were fat or not. After four days of sacred chastity, demand was high last night.” His eye twitched again as he added, “Not just everyone gets to sleep in the Keeper’s high palace.”
“Do I detect sarcasm?”
“Detect what you want.”
“A cloak was stolen last night. A beautiful thing, gifted from the Morning Star to a Natchez lord at the conclusion of the Busk. Someone killed the Natchez to get it.”
“Sorry. I was here. Like I said, business was good. You can ask around if you want. And I don’t know any Natchez lords.”
“Whoever took the cloak might want to dispose of it without having to answer any embarrassing questions, like how he happened to have it in his possession. Traded to the right person…”
“Ah, I see.” Mud Foot sighed, relaxing slightly. “Thanks for the warning. I won’t touch it if it shows up.”
“I just need to know who—”
“No.”
“Huh?”
Mud Foot gave him a humorless smile. “You’re not one of us anymore. No one trusts you.”
“I saved your life. Remember that time when that couple of nasty Caddo Traders were going to slit your belly open? They’d figured out that you’d stolen—”
“Let’s call that debt even. You’re dangerous. Anyone dealing with you? Look what happened to Black Swallow. You got his fingers broken.”
“He was compensated. And there’s a reward—”
“Maybe you’ve forgotten. Most of us down here, we survive by not being noticed by the Four Winds Clan. You are a Four Winds spy. If you never cast your shadow across my path again, I’ll consider it a blessing.”
“And there was the time when you had to hide from—”
“Go. Now. And don’t come back.” He paused. “And just so you know, word’s out. No one wants to deal with you. Just being close to you can get a person killed in the most unpleasant of ways.”
“If you so much as hear of this cloak—”
“You’re as dumb as you’re dangerous. Get your accursed carcass out of my sight!”
At the stinging betrayal, Seven Skull Shield raised his hands in surrender and backed away.