Firelight flickered warm and yellow on the great room furnishings. Smoke Shield watched as it played on Flying Hawk’s worn face. The high minko sat propped on his tripod, staring vacantly at the flames. His mind seemed to be floating, gone far away to something beyond Smoke Shield’s comprehension.
I am going to have to kill him soon. His souls have turned to water.
Smoke Shield continued, “I think we have enough food to support five hundred warriors for no more than a week. The tishu minko has dispatched runners to every town. Warriors should begin arriving from the south within days. I have sent orders upriver that those warriors should join us en route to the north.” He paused. “Are you hearing anything I say?”
Flying Hawk stirred, glancing at him. “You have a dilemma.”
“Indeed.”
“The Yuchi, or the Chahta?” Flying Hawk ran callused fingers over his stone mace. “So I am curious. What will you do? Turn, as you first planned, and strike the Chahta, or continue your march north? For once, you have tricked yourself, Nephew. Or Power has laid a trap for you.”
“It is I who lay the traps.”
“I wonder. The death of the Yuchi lies upon your shoulders. You broke the white arrow’s Power. The pattern of it only comes clear at the end. When you sacked White Arrow Town, it was a sign, a portent that you would spurn the protection of the white arrow carried by the Yuchi. Power has woven this—a complex fabric upon which you now are to be judged.”
“You only endured a cut to the chest, not a blow to the head. Why are you talking as if you are addled?”
“Because your brother is woven into this just as intricately as you are. Your actions and his are pulling the warp and weft. I can feel it as surely as I can feel the breeze on my face. Forces are moving beyond your control, events you could no more stop than the wind.”
“Meaning what?”
“I am not sure. My best guess is that Green Snake will come at the head of a Yuchi army.” He glanced at Smoke Shield. “Do you remember what the Yuchi said about Green Snake playing the high chief in chunkey? I sent my slave out to talk to the Traders down at the canoe landing today. A man came in from the north—a half-Yuchi Trader who shuttles back and forth over the divide. He told the whole thing. Green Snake and Born-of-Sun played to twenty, and for the tie-breaking point, Green Snake shattered his lance on the stone. In the process, they have made an alliance. By killing the Yuchi, I fear that you have made a critical mistake. Now, when Green Snake comes, it will be with force behind him.”
“Then we will destroy him and his warriors.” Smoke Shield chuckled at the absurdity of it. “As if the Yuchi could defeat us.” His mind was racing. “Let him come. Green Snake, the traitor to his people, comes to reclaim his own. Nothing he could do would alienate our people as much as marching at the head of a Yuchi army.”
Flying Hawk gave him a piercing gaze. “You never understood him.”
“Oh, I understood just fine. The wondrous Green Snake! People thought that when the sun rose, it burned just for him. He never had the strength or the cunning to make a true high minko. What was given to him freely became mine by strength, audacity, or will.”
“Answer a question for me. It is long past. The truth can’t hurt now. The past cannot be changed. Did he really let the Yuchi prisoner loose from the square like you claim he did?”
Smoke Shield narrowed his eyes. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because I finally know you. Perhaps I see you clearly for the first time.” He paused, waiting, weary eyes locked on Smoke Shield’s, then said, “So, you did. One last lie to bury any goodwill Green Snake might have had left to him.”
“The sword had nothing to do with it.” Smoke Shield made a belittling motion; in his souls he remembered the shame and fire in Uncle’s eyes as he handed over the long stone ceremonial sword that had been promised to Green Snake.
“It had everything to do with it. It was going to be my gift to Green Snake, his honor to finally kill the Yuchi war chief. And after he had driven it through the Yuchi’s heart, he would have taken a man’s name and followed me to the tchkofa. That is why you cling to it even to this day. It is your last symbol of victory over your brother.”
“And I bear this!” He pointed to the scar that marred his face.
“In the beginning, I thought we were the same, you and I. I, too, fought with my brother. But what I did once, in a fit of momentary passion, you have done over and over again in your souls.”
“Do not push me, Uncle.”
“No.” He leaned his head back. “You have won, Smoke Shield. I will not hinder your march toward whatever destiny Power has planned for you. Just tell me what you want me to do, and it shall be. So far as we are concerned, you are high minko. I will only hold this position until you ask me to address the Council on your behalf. On that, you have my word.”
Smoke Shield studied him with wary eyes. “Why? Is your fear of me that great?”
Flying Hawk shook his head. “It was, once. I finally understand the legacy of Bear Tooth’s blood. A blackness was let loose the night of the great fire. All that was good died with young Hickory. Perhaps he should have let Acorn and me burn with him. All I have left is a weary acceptance.”
Smoke Shield smiled, a sense of Power swelling within him. “I need nothing else from you, Uncle. When the warriors are assembled, I will have you call the Council. We will openly declare my brother a traitor, and ensure that he never sets foot in Sky Hand territory again.”
He rose to his feet, stretching, and padded toward the hallway. When he looked back, it was to see Flying Hawk, his eyes fixed on the fire, no expression on his lined face.
When Smoke Shield stepped into his room, he was surprised to find his fire burning brightly, a bowl of water resting before it along with several folded articles of clothing.
The woman from the river rose, watching him with glowing eyes. Her hair was freshly washed, worn loose to hang down her back. A white fabric dress covered with mica beads shimmered in the firelight like a thousand stars. In her hands she held the long chipped-stone ceremonial sword.
“Put that down.”
“Can you hear them?”
“The voices in the blood. They speak so many languages.”
He stepped over and took the sword from her hands, sheathed it in its leather scabbard.
“So you came?”
She nodded, smiling in anticipation. “Power sent me to you.”
“Did it?” He raised a curious eyebrow.
“Oh, yes. I am here to lead you to your destiny.”
“Just what would that destiny be?”
“If you remove your shirt, we will begin by bathing the sweat from your body.”
He was grinning in anticipation as he pulled his sweat-stained shirt over his head.
Two Petals lay with her hand on the man’s bare chest. She marveled at each beat of his heart. She could sense the life within him, feel it swell and jet under the bone and muscle of his breast. The rising and falling of his chest, drawing life-giving air into his lungs, was a miracle.
Such a tenuous thing, life.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, glancing at her in the dim light. The fire had burned down to coals.
“Words are reflections. Like images in water. Air is drawn in, and the souls re-form it into words, into the shapes that suit them. So many are wasted, all carrying patterns and designs drawn by the souls. Where do those wasted words go? What finally hears them?”
“Who sent you here? What is your name?”
“Power sent me. I am Two Petals.”
“You speak with an atrocious accent.”
“Those are the flavors of my souls.”
“And do my souls have flavors?”
He grunted, reaching out to clasp her throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “Are you a spy?”
She swallowed through the restriction of his grip, fear tingling in her chest. “I already know your plans, Smoke Shield. I have Dreamed it all. The march to the north, the attack on the Chahta. It is all for naught.”
His hard black eyes burned into hers; then his voice dropped to a deadly murmur. “How do you know about that?”
“Because Power has sent me to tell you the future.”
“And you expect me to believe you know the future?” His laughter was filled with danger.
“What Power sends, you would spurn? Oh, no, great High Minko. You’ll never win that way.”
“All right, until I crush your throat, I’ll play your little game. What way will I win?”
“Great Cougar outthinks you. He comes with the first equinox moon.”
Smoke Shield shifted, his eyes sharpening. “And where did you hear that?”
“I have Dreamed it all. Wait, my lover, and you shall see. When the Council is called after the great wind, you must be there. The only way to achieve your destiny is by denouncing Green Snake. Then, the Council will know the kind of man your brother really is. On that day, you shall seize a wondrous wealth, take it into your hands, and hold it close to your heart.”
His eyes had narrowed. “What great wind?”
“The one that will topple the palisade.” She laughed as his grip on her throat relaxed.
“You expect me to believe the palisade will fall in a wind?”
“It will.”
“And this wealth?”
“Copper. Gleaming, beautiful copper. A piece that will make you the richest man in the world.”
“You, I think, are a mad fool!”
“You still do not believe I am sent by Power? That I have seen the future? Challenge Blood Skull to chunkey tomorrow. You will win by three points. In the afternoon, a house in the Deer Clan Grounds will catch fire. A great panic will ensue before they put it out.”
She watched the disbelief growing in his eyes.
“Wait, High Minko. You will see. But in the meantime, let us coax this fallen tree of yours into life again. You won’t need that much energy to beat Blood Skull by three.”
She thrilled as her fingers slowly conjured one more response from his depleted loins. As he slid into her sheath, she felt the Power swelling, the past sliding away, the future flowing down around her.
“If you are wrong,” he whispered into her ear, “I shall hang your pretty body in the square. That stone sword you polluted with your woman’s touch will one day slide into your heart the way my shaft now fills your sheath.”
In her future vision she saw it, just the way he said. Could almost feel the stinging pain as the cold stone sliced through the flesh below her breastbone. Oh yes, it would happen just like that if Power turned suddenly capricious.
For an instant, she thought of Trader and Old White, and a cry of sympathy echoed hollowly within.
I am sorry, old friends. But this is the way it must be.
Trader and Old White sat in the shade of Heron Wing’s ramada. Another search of the city, begun at dawn, had produced no sign of Two Petals. Somehow, they had ended up here, as if Trader would have been drawn anywhere else.
Morning Dew sat beside him, her firm fingers working cattail-root flour into dough. Swimmer sat, ears cocked, taking in every movement of her hands, absolutely delighted when she tossed up small bits for him to snap out of the air.
Two men walked out to the chunkey court, each dressed in a breechcloth. Sunlight glinted from their lances, and both removed stones from leather bags.
“Think I could go play?” Trader asked.
“Not without drawing too much attention to yourself.” Old White stared across the distance at the men. “I should have thought to bring my pipe.”
Morning Dew squinted, face pinched. “Blood Skull and Smoke Shield.” She glanced at Trader as he straightened, his expression hardening.
“So, there he is.”
“There he is,” she agreed.
“Too bad you can’t just play chunkey with him,” Old White noted. “We could end this and live fat and sassy forever.”
“The new moon is seven days away.” Morning Dew watched as Blood Skull took his mark, sprinted forward, rolled the stone, and then cast.
“Blood Skull is one of the opposition?” Trader asked, seeing the man make a good cast.
“He has no love for Smoke Shield.”
Trader struggled to keep his attention on her words. His bones itched at the chance of playing his brother. What a match that would be.
“What do you plan to do about Great Cougar?” Morning Dew asked. “How do we stop a Chahta raid once it is in Sky Hand territory?”
“We could send a white arrow,” Old White noted. “Invite them to a feast. Offer gifts in retribution for the dead at White Arrow Town.”
“Good idea. Who’s going to wander in and explain it all to the Council?” Trader countered. “Not that I don’t like the idea, but this city is swarming with angry Chikosi. They all firmly believe that the last raid was committed by Great Cougar.”
“Both the Chahta and Chikosi need a reason to stop the fighting. Finding that reason”—Morning Dew shook her head—“that defies me.”
“Chikosi is a derogatory term,” Trader reminded. “As a Chikosi myself, I can’t abide the word.”
“Guests?” Heron Wing’s voice interrupted as she walked around the corner of the house, stopping cold at sight of Trader. Neatly folded clothes were in her arms.
He smiled up at her. “Morning Dew told you the plan?”
She gave him a humorless smile. “You are lovers, yes. Somehow, the notion doesn’t leave me excited. How far does this go?”
Old White sighed heavily. “I suppose it falls on me to ensure that they maintain the proper decorum. Especially since you refuse Trade for the woman.”
“Is there a reason why your words do not reassure me?” she asked warily.
“What reason would both the Chikosi and Chahta have to cease fighting?” Trader ignored the barbed exchange. He was watching Smoke Shield, his eyes narrowed. His brother set himself, raced forward, and released his stone. “He’s better than he once was.”
Heron Wing looked out at the chunkey court. “I suppose you’ve given some thought about what you’ll do if he comes over here?”
Trader nodded. “Morning Dew and I will stroll off, hand in hand. Seeker? Do you want to stay under some petty excuse? Take the measure of our enemy?”
“I do indeed.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Heron Wing said as she stepped inside. Moments later she reappeared, her hands braced on her hips. “What are you doing here?”
Old White said, “We couldn’t find the Contrary, so we decided we’d come see if there was a way to turn Great Cougar’s raid into a happy celebration of peace. We thought of inviting the Chahta to an exchange of gifts. You arrived in the middle of our discussion about just which one of us was going to call the Council and give them the happy news.”
“I think it should be you,” Trader said.
“The two of you being here is like coals on dry tinder,” Heron Wing said worriedly.
Trader looked back. “I don’t suppose you’d want to come sit next to me? Just to see if we could get Violet Bead to make an appearance?”
Heron Wing gave him a pleading look. “We could still be in your canoe in a hand’s time, Green Snake. That offer stands.”
He nodded, aware of both Morning Dew and Seeker’s inquisitive stares. He almost started as Blood Skull made his cast. “Not good. He’s gripping the shaft too tightly.”
“Invite the Chahta warriors to a celebration?” Heron Wing asked. “An equinox feast?”
“Does anyone know when the new moon falls?”
“Seven days,” Morning Dew reminded.
“A feast? Will that be enough?” Old White wondered. “Besides, if the dates coincide, wouldn’t Great Cougar be afraid to time his attack then? Or is he the kind of man to worry about a little thing like Power?”
“He is, and he does.” Morning Dew tossed a piece of dough to Swimmer. “Great Cougar pays close attention to the rituals. So much so that just hearing rumors about an attempted Yuchi assassination under the Power of a white arrow might make him reconsider who his enemy really is.”
“But we know that was a ruse.” Heron Wing had taken up a position, leaning against her door.
“Exposing Smoke Shield’s fraud is going to change a lot of minds,” Trader reminded. “According to the way Morning Dew explains it, when Great Cougar hears Smoke Shield killed the messenger, he’ll be twice as anxious to hit the Chikosi.”
“Do you have to call us that?” Heron Wing asked.
“What?”
“Chikosi. It means ‘aunty’s people.’ It’s humiliating.” Trader glanced at Old White, shared a shrug, and turned his attention to Smoke Shield as he cast again. His brother was having a good day. “I could take him.”
“Forget it,” Old White reminded.
Trader spread his hands. “The only place the Chikosi aren’t called Chikosi is here. By us.”
“Whatever happens,” Morning Dew insisted, “we’re going to have to come up with something special to give both sides a reason to cease fighting.”
“So, how long do we have?” Old White asked.
“Until they call the next Council meeting,” Trader said. He looked back at Heron Wing. “I heard that warriors are coming up from the south.”
She nodded. “The first ones began arriving today.”
Trader shook his head as Blood Skull’s cast went wide. “The thing is, if Smoke Shield marches all of his warriors out of Split Sky City before we figure a way out of this, there will be no way to call them back.” He glanced at Old White. “We have to be at that Council meeting.”
He nodded. “I wish I knew where Two Petals went. I always imagined that she’d be here. With us. You know, explaining the future.”
Trader waited until Smoke Shield cast. “Heron Wing? When the Council is called, can you do that? Get us in?”
Heron Wing pursed her lips. “Maybe. It will mean telling both Night Star and Blood Skull everything, but yes.”
“We will have some packs,” Old White said. “Things that must not be opened until we are inside, and then only when the time is right.”
“You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“We ask for everything,” Trader said. “And if we don’t get it, we’re never going to be able to stop that man out there from unleashing a mess we can’t put a stop to.”
Smoke Shield charged forward, bowled his stone, and cast his lance. It caught the sunlight, glittering in the air. Then it arced to earth.
“Yes!” They heard Smoke Shield’s cry, and the man made a twisting jerk with his arm.
“Gods, he hasn’t changed. Used to drive me to a rage every time he did that.” Trader shook his head.
Morning Dew slapped the finished dough. “Another thing to consider: Let’s say you do get into the Council. You make your claims, prove your case. How do you expect Smoke Shield to take that? What’s to keep him from walking over and braining the both of you?”
Trader took a deep breath. “Now there’s a question. We’re going to look pretty silly if we end up with him chasing us around the eternal fire, leaping over the chiefs, scrambling this way and that, knocking over the Eagle Pipe and the black drink cup.”
“Three!” Smoke Shield cried in glee. “I win by three!”
“Just don’t forget the Chahta,” Morning Dew reminded. “We may be running out of time.”
Smoke Shield charged up the stairs, recklessly taking them two at a time, each leap shooting him upward. The wooden steps of the Sun Stairs shivered under his impact.
Three points! Just as she said.
Gasping for breath, he trotted into the palace yard, patted the guardian posts, and cut across the great room. Entering the hallway, he pulled the door hanging aside and stared at the woman. She lay curled on his bed, her long black hair laid out in a swirl over the blankets. “Three points,” she said, sensing his presence.
“I would like to know how you knew that.”
“It was what I saw.” She turned her head, fixing her odd, depthless eyes on his. “This is terribly difficult, you know. Speaking like this.”
“How would you normally speak?”
“Backward.”
“Well, you’re not very good at Trade Tongue.”
She lowered an eyelid skeptically. “Neither are you. Talk about an accent.”
He entered the room, pulling back the blanket to expose her naked body. “Not dressed?”
“I can wait until we’re finished.”
He traced his fingers along the curve of her back, over the round moons of her buttocks, and down the slim thighs tucked against her calves. Her breasts were hidden by her arms.
“And you think I have time to linger with you?”
“I know you do.”
“I keep forgetting, you have seen the future.”
“Bide your time. The first warriors have arrived. Some from Red Reed Town will be late. They began to play around and capsized their canoe.”
“You know this, do you?”
“As will you, when it is finally reported.”
He kept staring at her body, remembering the things she had done the night before. He rubbed his chin. It wasn’t like he really did have anything to do. Nothing that wouldn’t wait, anyway.