Late-afternoon sun cast long shadows across Split Sky City. Golden light bathed the peaked thatch roofs, gleamed from the plastered walls, and gave the smoke-laden air an orange glow. Trader had pursued a roundabout path in his search for Two Petals. He had started at the south gate, winding around the Crawfish Clan grounds, awed at how the city had grown. For the most part the local dogs had allowed Swimmer to pass without too much growling and sniffing.
Trader stopped short as he walked out to the plaza. He had just finished searching the Panther Clan grounds. He took a moment, seeing his city again, as with new eyes. Every muscle in his body was charged, his souls practically flying inside him. Over and over, he replayed each moment of his meeting with Heron Wing, savoring each word they had spoken, hearing her voice as she said she had never stopped loving him.
The sunlight seemed brighter, the air—laden with the odors of the city as it was—smelled fresher in his nose. He marveled at the open plaza, seeing children running, playing at stickball. Two young men practiced chunkey on the nearest court. In the north, the great mound thrust up, the roof of the palace designed to add to the illusion of a wedge splitting the sky.
“Quite a place, isn’t it?” he asked Swimmer. The dog was sniffing at something on the ground, his tail wagging.
Until now, Trader had avoided entering the Hickory Moiety’s half of the city. The notion of coming here had been similar to the anticipation of peeling a scab from a wound. Heron Wing had changed that. Somehow she had healed something that had bled inside him for winters.
Now he took his bearings, turning, walking north along the rows of dwellings, workshops, and society houses that lined the eastern half of the plaza. He glanced this way and that, searching. Swimmer searched, too. But Trader wasn’t sure it was for Two Petals.
He saw none of the signs that a lost Contrary was anywhere about. No crowds of curious people hovered at the house doors; none of the passersby chattered on about the odd woman who said things backward.
I should be worried sick! But, oddly, he wasn’t. And that bothered him even more than the Contrary’s sudden and complete absence.
It’s not as if she’s helpless. But the lingering memory of carrying her into Rainbow City remained. He could still feel how rigid her body had been. Like a piece of wood. The memory of it amazed him. Had he tried to hold himself stiff like that, the muscles would have trembled, lost their energy. But she’d been locked up tight the whole way. Frozen, but warm. By Breath Giver, the ways of Power were surprising.
Swimmer, it appeared, had found what he was looking for. He grabbed up a stick and dropped it at Trader’s feet. They continued, Trader tossing the stick, and Swimmer charging after it with a happy yip.
A woman stepped out in front of him. He caught the barest glimpse of her face: young, attractive, with a frown marring her brow. She had her long hair pulled back in a bun held in place with a bone pin. The rest of her was obscured by an ungainly load of firewood. That she could carry such, and move as easily as she did, left him with no doubt of her strength. He could see smooth muscles working in her calves as she plodded forward.
Nice, he thought. He’d never minded looking at beautiful women. Which led him to think about Two Petals, which in turn led him to think about Heron Wing.
The clatter startled him, almost made him jump. Swimmer dropped his stick, darting away.
Before him, the entire load of wood had crashed to the ground, the woman staggering to recover her balance.
“Blood and dung!” she hissed, holding up the carry strap. It had broken neatly in two. She glared down at the pile and then angrily kicked one of the pieces of wood.
“That’s the wrong way,” Trader told her. “You’re headed north. Kick it that way.”
She looked up with fiery eyes. “Easy for you to say. That’s three trips without the thong.”
“One trip,” he insisted. “Provided I help you. I know a trick. Something I learned among the Cree.”
“Who?”
“A people way up north of the Freshwater Seas.” He bent down, pulling out the longest pieces of wood. “We’ll build a litter. Make a square, if you will. Hand me what’s left of the strap.”
She did, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face. “It’s almost like I know you. It seems like it was something unpleasant.”
“Like losing a load of firewood?” He fished a sharp chert flake from his pouch, cutting the remaining pieces of strap into equal lengths. Swimmer looked raptly at the pile of wood. It contained enough sticks to keep him happy for a moon.
“No. Are you a warrior? From the White Arrow raid?”
“Sorry.” He grinned. “But it’s curious the kind of a talent I have—being remembered for something unpleasant.”
She looked confused as she met his eyes, then shook her head, frowning. “It’s probably nothing.”
He lashed the framework together, leaving the handles extending. “The trick is to pile the lengths of wood as closely as possible. Without another cord, they’ll shift, try to roll off.”
She flushed. “I should be thanking you instead of trying to figure out why I don’t like you. You don’t really have to do this. I have no desire to keep you from whatever you were doing.”
“It’s all right. I’m looking for a friend. She’s missing. Probably got lost.” He was quickly and efficiently laying the wood in parallel rows. The bent pieces he placed on the ends, trying to keep the next layer from rolling.
A slim brow arched. “How do you get lost in the city? She could see the high minko’s palace, the plaza, everything’s just . . . well, here.”
“For most of us, yes.” He clapped his hands as he placed the last of the wood in the pile. “Okay, let’s see if this works.”
She stepped to the front, bending, lifting. Trader admired the view as her fabric dress stretched over delightfully rounded buttocks. Straightening, they took a few tentative steps.
“Just don’t bounce or the whole thing will fall apart.
“So, how could this woman friend get lost here?”
“She, um . . . sees the world differently than the rest of us. She doesn’t speak our language, only Trade Tongue. The bothersome thing is that she often says things that make people uncomfortable. Unless you know her, she can be quite unsettling.”
“A foreigner?”
“Yes.”
“She speaks Trade Tongue, you say? With an accent? Traveling with an old white-haired man?”
“Very likely, but he’s looking on the other side of the city at the moment.”
A shiver racked her spine, shifting the wood on the litter. Her voice was different, cautious. “And you say you are a friend of hers?”
“I’d say, from the tone in your voice, you’ve seen her.”
She exhaled. “No wonder I didn’t think I liked you. That woman sent shivers up and down my souls.”
“That firmly places you in the smart half of humanity.”
“But you travel with her? Willingly?”
“I guess that says a lot about which half I fit in.” He paused. “She’s a Contrary. The real thing, not just someone who follows that path.”
The woman cocked her head. “Is she your woman?”
“She is no one’s woman. She sees this world through Spirit eyes.”
“Why you?” she asked. “Why did you choose to care for her?”
“It’s a long story, very long indeed. How far are we going?”
“Up past the Raccoon Clan palace. Almost to the foot of the Great Mound.”
“That’s Chief Clan territory.”
“Well, she may be lost, but you seem to know where you’re going. And you, warrior, speak with a fine Sky Hand accent.”
“Like I said, I’m no warrior.”
“What then?”
“Trader. That’s my name: Trader.”
“And you Traded for a Contrary somewhere?”
He made a face. “You don’t Trade for a Contrary. It seems they find you.”
“Seriously?”
“You mean, the Cahokia?”
“The very same. There’s a creek there next to an abandoned town. The weather was crummy, and . . . Why am I telling you this?”
“Because I will listen. And you are probably trying to prove to me that no matter what I think about your Contrary friend, you’re actually likeable.”
“Why would I do that?”
“No, I’m not married. And from the look you gave me, neither are you.”
He chuckled, “Sorry, my heart is given to another.”
“The Contrary?”
“Gods, no!”
“Maybe you’re in the smart half after all. But you were telling me about a creek below Cahokia. The weather was bad.”
“She directed Old White right to my camp. Out of pitch-black night, she led him right to me and Swimmer.”
“Who’s Swimmer?”
“He’s the dog who keeps dropping that stick at your feet. Hold it. We’re about to lose some wood here.” He used his hip to brace the load and restack the firewood.
“So, you have a dog, a Contrary, no wife, a companion named Old White, and travel to Cahokia? That sounds like quite a life.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a slave.”
“They treat you all right?”
“You took that well. Not even a moment’s hesitation.”
“It was a distinct possibility.”
“Oh?”
“A woman your age is normally married, especially one doing work like hauling loads of firewood.”
“You’re an odd man for a Sky Hand.”
“So tell me, Trader, do you have any news of the Chahta?”
“Some.” They passed the Raccoon Clan palace atop its truncated mound, and the woman led the way to a large house just off the plaza.
In a controlled voice, she said, “I would hear it if you have time.”
They wound their way past the ramada and the pestle and mortar.
“I should look for my friend. But yes, I would tell you what I know.”
At that, a strikingly beautiful woman stepped out the door, glanced at Trader, and smiled. “Hello!”
“Hello yourself.” Lowering the wood, he rubbed his hands to clean them of the bark. “I am called Trader. I helped your slave carry her wood home.”
“She’s not my slave. I am Violet Bead, second wife to Smoke Shield.” She inclined her head to the house immediately south. “I live there.”
At that moment, Heron Wing ducked out—and stopped short in shocked recognition as her eyes met Trader’s.
“I should be going.” He glanced at the slave. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”
“Trader?” Violet Bead asked. “That’s no kind of a name. What is your clan?”
“Violet Bead,” Heron Wing said shortly, “the man is a river Trader. I am negotiating with him over Morning Dew’s value. Now go away.”
Trader tried to keep a straight face as Morning Dew turned her shocked gaze from Trader to Heron Wing, her lips parting in disbelief.
Violet Bead, however, was giving Trader a swift and thorough appraisal. “When you’re done here, Trader, come see what I have available.” Then she looked hard at his face. “Don’t I know you?”
“Can’t say that you do. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Split Sky City. Unless, well, did you spend any time with the Natchez?” He changed to that tongue. “You live dangerously for a woman of the Chikosi.”
Violet Bead shook her head, “Sorry, what?”
“Nothing. A Natchez joke.”
“Come see me,” she reminded, before turning and striding toward her house.
Trader arched a brow as he watched the saucy sway of her hips. “Is she always like that?”
“Unfortunately,” Heron Wing said in a dry voice.
“You’re Trading me?” Morning Dew cried.
“Shhh!” Heron Wing snapped, glancing after Violet Bead. Then, to Trader, “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for the Contrary. That’s when your slave’s wood strap broke. Two Petals is missing.”
“Gods!” Heron Wing cried, hands up. “This isn’t funny! Violet Bead is a terrible gossip.”
Trader considered that. The tall woman had paused, looking back from the ramada at her house. “So, what do we do?”
“Morning Dew,” Heron Wing ordered. “Go with him. Just get away from here. I’ll explain everything later. Help him find the Contrary. Go!”
Trader turned, amused at the burning glare that Morning Dew was giving him. If looks were sharp, this one was peeling his skin off. “So, you’re Morning Dew?”
Her eyes went molten, jaw muscles bunched.
He led her back out onto the plaza. Once out of earshot, he said, “Do me a favor—try and look slightly subdued instead of like you’re about to rip my testicles off.”
“You knew! What were you doing? Spying, determining the value of your Trade? That’s why you didn’t react when I told you I was a slave?”
He led the way back past the Raccoon Clan mound. “It wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but no.”
As the anger drained, her expression fell. “Gods,” she whispered, “I thought she was my friend.”
Trader stopped, pulling her, almost unresisting, behind the curve of the Raccoon Clan charnel house. Swimmer was trying to figure out why this had nothing to do with playing fetch. “She is. Look at me. Old Woman Fox asked us to Trade for your release. We didn’t know that Heron Wing had you until we arrived.”
She couldn’t suppress her amazement. “Old Woman Fox? My grandmother? She sent you here to Trade for me?”
“She did.” He glanced around. “But I wouldn’t shout that at the top of my lungs. Some here might not approve of the idea. Not with relations between the Chikosi and Chahta being what they are.”
“Gods,” Morning Dew whispered, a hand to her breast. “She’s alive! Tell me everything.”
Trader related their time in White Arrow Town, answering her questions as best he could. Beyond Old Woman Fox, he could supply little information about who was or was not alive.
“All right,” she finally admitted. “I’m just excited, that’s all.” She grinned. “I’m finally going home.” Then her expression fell. “How do I tell them what happened here?”
“You will find a way.”
“How soon will this happen?”
He winced. “Well, that’s a problem. Old White and I have some obligations here. It may take a while.”
She nodded. “But you’re Traders. You can go when and where you wish. You came all the way down from the upper rivers, through the Yuchi . . .” Morning Dew’s eyes sharpened. “From upriver. Cahokia. The Yuchi bowl . . .”
“You’re Green Snake.”
“Are you always this quick?”
She nodded to herself. “That’s why Heron Wing panicked when she saw you. If Smoke Shield learns that you’re seeing Heron Wing . . .” She reached out. “Come on. Let’s go look for your lost Contrary. We need to make this look good—something Violet Bead would believe. So, what do we do? The Trader explanation won’t be good for more than a day or two. She’s going to be eaten alive with curiosity.” Morning Dew studied him with different eyes. “You do resemble your brother. But you’re just enough different.”
“We were twins, but not identical.”
“No wonder I didn’t like you.”
“That’s all right. I don’t like him, either.”
She took his hand, leading him out into plain view. “We’re holding hands.”
“Why? I thought we were looking for Two Petals.”
“Yes, we’re looking for your spooky friend.”
“And we have to hold hands to do that?”
“Of course. You’re my new lover.”
“Do I have anything to say about this?”
“Do you want to be close to Heron Wing? Any other way and rumors will fly straight to Smoke Shield’s ears.”
“Ah, I see. No one would care about a man sniffing around Heron Wing’s slave.” He grinned. “I’m only a little slow.”
Old White sat on the log before their house, poking at the fire with a long branch. He had been everywhere, even peeking into society houses where he had no business. He had asked after Two Petals, describing her looks, how she was dressed. Nothing.
He growled to himself. He’d been too concerned with Trader that morning, aware the man was half-shocked by the revelations about Smoke Shield.
Why didn’t I keep my eye on her?
Because she’s the Contrary, guided by Power.
But was Power enough to keep her safe?
“Seeker?” Trader called from the darkness.
He glanced up, seeing Trader and Swimmer approaching with Two Petals in tow. “Thank the gods, you’ve found her. Two Petals, I’ve been worried half out of—”
The woman wasn’t Two Petals, but almost matched her height and age. This woman was thinner, lithe and athletic. She considered Old White with clear and intelligent eyes.
“You didn’t find her?” Trader asked, stepping into the firelight.
“No.” He glanced at the woman. “And this is?”
“Morning Dew.”
“Ah, of course.” He arched an eyebrow. “When did you see Heron Wing to make the Trade?”
“Power got in the way. For the moment, Morning Dew is my new lover.”
About to say something, Old White snapped his mouth shut. Then after a breath, he managed to rasp, “If I only had half the complications you have with women, I would die a happy man!”
“It’s a show,” Trader said, “a way of keeping suspicion away from Heron Wing.”
“Are you really the Seeker?” Morning Dew asked, bending down to peer at Old White.
“Are you really Old Woman Fox’s granddaughter?”
“I am.”
“Then we have two for two.” He smiled up at her. “Come and sit. We’re not sure how to get you back to White Arrow Town yet; but sometime soon we’ll figure it out, even if it means slipping you to Great Cougar’s warriors.”
“No Trade yet,” Trader said, pausing as Morning Dew seated herself. “Morning Dew will fill you in. I want to run down to the canoe landing. Maybe Two Petals went to the canoes for some reason. Come on, Swimmer.” The dog followed happily as he slipped away into the darkness.
Morning Dew dropped her head into her hands. “Great Cougar is sending warriors?”
“Around the new moon.”
“You haven’t told the Chikosi?”
“Is there a reason we should?”
She lifted her head, studying his face in the firelight. “She knew.”
“Pardon me?”
“The Contrary. That was her, before the squares that day. She talked to me, and you pulled her away.”
Old White smiled. “Things are always confusing around the Contrary.”
“The blood made me what I am. Those were her words.” She glanced down at her hands. “She knew.” Morning Dew paused. “Do you know what she meant by the final knot?”
“It may be that Trader is the final knot. A knot ties something together.”
“Is he anything like his brother?”
“What do you think?” Old White asked softly.
“When I first met him I was confused, and then I began to like him.” She paused. “Heron Wing still loves him. But she’s trapped.”
“For the moment.”
She stared at the fire. “The Contrary came to me on purpose, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“The firewood cord broke for a reason. Everything that has happened to me has been for a reason. Power has been behind this all along. It brought me here, broke me down, and watched as I rebuilt myself.” She looked down at her hands. “When Green Snake told me you’d been sent by my grandmother, I could barely keep from bursting.”
Trader appeared from around the side of the house, Swimmer trotting behind. “She was there this morning. The old Albaamo who sells firewood saw her. She walked out, almost as if she was going to walk into the river. Then Smoke Shield showed up. They talked, and he left. Later, she walked back up the landing. No one has seen her since.”
“Smoke Shield?” Old White frowned. “And they talked?”
“Do we go search the palace?” Trader’s worry reflected in his face.
Old White leaned back. Did they? Was he ready for that confrontation? “No. She knows what she’s doing, Trader. She has seen all of this in her vision. Whatever it is, leave it to Power.”
“But my brother is a—”
“I said, leave it to Power.”
Trader seemed to wilt. “Gods, I just hope she knows what she’s doing.”