The Fish Clan warriors were good at their job. Too good. A fact that irritated Seven Skull Shield to no end. Columella’s parting words were “No matter what he looks like, he’s not to be underestimated. The man wouldn’t be one of the Keeper’s most trusted people if he wasn’t among the best. He’s known for trickery and sleight, so you don’t want to let him draw you into a conversation. Nor do you want to let him get too close. Take whatever steps you must to ensure he stays here.”
“Yes, Matron,” the big Fish Clan warrior had told her as he bowed his head and touched his forehead.
So Seven Skull Shield sat, massaging his aches, fingering his bruises, and prodding at tender places. They had brought him food: a filling fish-and-turtle stew. He had plenty of water to drink. Through the gap under the eaves he could see the angle of the sun change. But beyond that, the warehouse had more than lost any allure it might have ever had. Which, when he got right down to it, wasn’t much since it had a big nasty wooden square standing in the middle of the floor.
“Never been in one of these before.” Seven Skull Shield eased his way over and inspected the wood. White ash. Tough stuff. A grim smile played on his lips as he imagined the wood, this very wood, burning in the middle of a large fire.
He slapped it in promise and asked the big warrior, “Do you have a name?”
The man stared at him, face impassive.
“Oh, come on. She didn’t want me drawing you into long conversations where I’d subtly suggest that you let me go, and you, having been seduced by my charm and wit, would bow and open the door. We all know that won’t happen. A name doesn’t hurt anything. And you do have one, don’t you?”
The Fish Clan warrior lifted an eyebrow high enough to wrinkle his brow, glanced at the other three, and gave a faint shake of the head.
Seven Skull Shield sighed and worked his arms, wincing as he tried to loosen the strained muscles. The night had been agonizing. How did people stand it for days? And worse, his four-warrior guard could beat him into a pulp and hang him right back up there, on the matron’s order.
Keeper. I’m coming. That is, if I can ever get free of these people.
He made a face as he paced slowly among the pots, jars, and stacked boxes topped with storage baskets. Habit made him take inventory. A man never knew what he might need to acquire should the opportunity arise. Mostly the place was filled with sacks of fibers, a pile of planks in the rear, baskets of tool stone, and so forth. Nothing that immediately sprang to mind for a weapon or means of escape.
He lifted a box lid painted with the Four Winds Clan spirals and found it filled with spindle whorls. Where had they come from? Why just put them in a box? Why did humans do anything outside of eating, drinking, sleeping, driving pegs into sheaths, and eliminating wastes? Why fight over someone’s idea of Power, Spirit, or totem? Why not just send word to Matron Columella that he’d take that canoe ride south?
He’d done that once, just after Wooden Doll turned him down the first time. Not yet twenty, he’d joined a Tenasee Trader and tried to work himself to death paddling the heavy Trade canoe up the Mother Water, up the Tenasee, beyond the portages, and clear to the river’s great bend.
Maybe if his traveling companions had been different, if he’d liked them, fit in better, the life might have stuck. But he’d missed Cahokia. Missed friends. So he’d come back, working like a dog at the paddle. And he’d come back a different man, strapping with muscle and possessed of a finer appreciation of the city and its opportunities.
And there’s the Keeper.
So, someone had tried to poison her and killed Notched Cane? That would wound her deep down. And while Notched Cane had always disapproved of and barely tolerated Seven Skull Shield, he’d never done anything outright offensive.
He closed the box, knowing what he had to do. Amazing what a person could learn from spindle whorls.
But first, there were Wooden Doll and Slick Rock to deal with.
If only he could …
The door was lifted up and out of the way, late-afternoon light spilling in.
Ah, there were another two warriors outside the door. Columella really wasn’t taking chances with him, was she?
The diminutive form of Flat Stone Pipe entered in his rolling short-legged stride. As quickly the door was closed.
“I see you’ve managed to keep him,” the dwarf noted dryly.
“Yes, Lord.” The Fish Clan squadron first really seemed to have no sense of humor.
“If what’s building up in the west is any indication, there is going to be one nasty storm tonight.”
Seven Skull Shield jerked a thumb at the square. “I’m not going back on that thing. Just whack me in the head instead.”
“Which would accomplish what?” Flat Stone Pipe cocked his head, the question lying behind his dark eyes. “My informants tell me that you’ve nothing inside that skull of yours but stone. That you don’t have a heart, that your liver is black, and your blood is as cold a turtle’s. They tell me the only way to kill you is to starve you to death, that outside of bedding women, your only passion is filling your stomach.”
Seven Skull Shield sighed as he spread his arms wide. “I am so misunderstood.”
“Then enlighten me.” Flat Stone Pipe walked over and seated himself on the square’s lower crosspiece, picking at the wood with a thumbnail. “If you could walk out of here, what would you do?”
Seven Skull Shield sensed the little man’s uncertainty. Something had changed. But, which way should he bet?
“That would depend. If the Keeper’s dead, and that overdressed-and-feathered foreigner has managed to gain the support of the people, Horn Lance is going to ensure my existence is short and not in any manner sweet. A fact that reminds me that I’ve always wanted to see distant Cofitachequi.”
“And if the Keeper’s alive? If Night Shadow Star is drugged and captive? If something might have shaken Horn Lance’s plans?”
Seven Skull Shield crossed his arms, flexing the muscles to sharpen the pain in his shoulders. “Then that depends. Your matron and I, I think we both see the world the same way. Her concern is the survival of Evening Star House. Mine is the survival of me. So we each do what we have to, make the deals we have to. Given that she plucked me away from Slick Rock? I think I like her.”
“And when it comes to my matron and the Keeper?”
“While I like your matron, the Keeper is my friend. As I’ve found out recently, I don’t have many friends.”
Flat Stone Pipe kept picking at the wood as he considered his next words. “Relationships between Evening Star House and the Morning Star … Well, let’s say my matron doesn’t trust him.”
“Little man, your matron isn’t alone. Listen, here’s where I think you’re going: Evening Star House has its needs and goals, and so does the Keeper and her House. Maybe our job—yours and mine—is to figure out ways so that neither House gets crossways with the other. Even if we have to slap a little pine pitch over the cracks every now and then to cover up the unsightly gaps between them.”
“While we did hang you in a square for a night, it was for a good reason.”
“What you’re saying is that unlike if you’d left me with Slick Rock, I survived it and I’ll heal.”
Flat Stone Pipe seemed to come to a decision. “You know I have my sources?”
“I do.”
“A fast runner arrived moments before I came to see you. The Red Wing just beat Swirling Cloud at chunkey. Bet his life against the Natchez. Won a huge fortune, and cut off the Little Sun’s head. As news spreads, the city’s going crazy.”
“He did it!” Seven Skull Shield whispered.
“Can you manage to avoid Horn Lance’s agents? Many people still think you’re on the loose and worth a fortune.”
“I can.” He paused. “Especially if there’s a storm. But there’s a stop I have to make first. Call it a special payback.”
“About the woman who betrayed you. It might be a little more complicated than you think. But there’s more than one storm brewing outside. I’ve got a few more things to tell you; then, just after dark, I’ll let you go.” He paused, “Assuming you can do me a couple of favors in the process.”