Smoke Shield walked wearily through the palace great room, stopping only long enough to step over and run his fingers over the captured Yuchi relief of the warrior holding a severed head. “Soon, I shall own your people. Within days, the Prophet tells me, the Chahta will arrive. After I break them once and for all, I shall move north. The story your people tell about the severed head shall become ours. And there is nothing you can do about it.”
Then he turned, surprised that Flying Hawk was absent; but then, the old man knew his days were numbered. “And there is nothing you can do about it, either, Uncle.” Since the Prophet had promised that he’d see the old man weep, he’d been delighted with anticipation.
He entered the hallway and ducked into his room. She was waiting, a warm pot of water and folded cloths resting beside the fire. He stared into her dark eyes and said, “The palisade fell, just like you said it would.”
She nodded. “The vision is flowing so fast now. The Chahta are across the divide. Your warriors are moving. Power draws the weave tight.”
He looked down at himself, seeing soot and bits of debris. “I spent most of the day at the palisade. It is good for the people to see the man who will be their high minko acting like he should. We salvaged some of the logs and began clearing debris. The four-times-cursed Albaamaha were like geese, more interesting in squawking than working. You could see it in their eyes, as if they were heartened by the collapse of the palisade.”
“They shall not act against you. Few understand how their lives are going to change. Split Sky City will be a different place after this. The falling of the walls is but the first sign of the changes to come.”
He narrowed an eye. “I could have used more warriors, but that scheming Blood Skull was missing all through the day. I sent him to ensure that the warriors are where I want them, but he shouldn’t have been gone so long.”
“The Chahta will see no warriors when they arrive.” She smiled at him. “It’s a fascinating game, misdirection. You are good at it. Even the Underworld marvels.”
“Is that how it will be? My name spoken among the worlds?”
“It already is.”
He grinned, stripping off his dirty shirt and breech-cloth. “Wash me. And while you do, tell me what will come next. I am interested in Green Snake and his dealings among the Yuchi. You have already told me I will denounce him before the Council.”
She wet one of the cloths and began sponging his body. “Your brother has made peace with Born-of-Sun, the Yuchi chief. They have discussed a lasting alliance.”
“So, he really has betrayed us.” He reached up to finger the scar. “Will I ever have the chance to repay him for this? He won’t be killed before I can get to him, will he?”
“In the end, I promise you will see him stand before the Council. There, before your people, you will denounce him and expose his true nature so that all might see. And when that time comes, my lover, you shall take his wealth.” She smiled. “Power cannot be stopped.”
“After I destroy the Chahta, how will I defeat the Yuchi?”
“Look no further than your Dreams, High Minko.”
“In my Dreams?”
“All great Visions are like Dreams. Ever so clear, and with a truth all their own.”
“But I need to know how! What obstacles are in my way?”
She was washing his genitals now, her fingers adding to the effect of the warm cloth. He watched himself stiffening in her hands. She looked up, excitement in her eyes. “I have things to tell you . . . about treachery, a stunning theft that will rock your warriors, and betrayal that will enrage your very souls.” She waved down his sudden dismay, and added, “All in due time, my lover. First, let me tend to this swollen member.”
Heron Wing tossed a handful of corn into the fire. It was little enough offering to the winds for ceasing that angry blow. She could hear cold rain pattering outside, and the drips falling from the eaves had a reassuring rhythm. Glancing up, she was so relieved that her roof had survived. Many had not, and now people were sheltering with family, or spending a miserable night listening to water plopping into pots placed under leaks.
She dropped her head into her hands, worry chewing at her insides like a voracious wood rat. The slow and eroding fear that had become her constant companion was new. Living like this, she decided, was like a slow death.
Even when Smoke Shield had been at his worst, the subtle knowledge that he might beat her, or perhaps even disfigure or maim her, had been tempered by the knowledge that clan justice would make him pay in the end. People liked and respected her—and perhaps Smoke Shield knew that deep down inside. It had held him back, supplied a restraint that not even he was willing to challenge.
Through all of those dark days, she had been buoyed by a deep-seated courage, some hard fiber woven into her souls that had kept her resolve from crumbling. But now, with so much at stake, she had to face the fact that deep down, she was terrified.
The sensation of complete impotence had left her adrift, helpless. Not even in the days following Green Snake’s flight had she experienced this. Though her heart was broken and the future had grown uncertain, she still had possessed the core belief that she would manage. The birth of her son, and her people’s constant reliance on her counsel, had given her direction.
Then Old White had walked into her house; and her world had fallen apart like the ramada roofs in the wind. No matter how she tried to picture it, the future was dark and menacing. Should even a whisper be passed that Green Snake was here in Split Sky City, Smoke Shield would act with immediate savagery.
Nor did the Traders’ wild plots hold much hope of success. She glanced over at the fire where it flickered. She half expected to hear shouts on the night, the cry of triumph as Green Snake was apprehended. And once captured, even if Green Snake kept his mouth closed, Smoke Shield would be coming, eager to know if she’d seen Green Snake, and what they’d talked about.
She glanced at her son’s bed. On this night he was at his aunt’s, tucked in safe where he couldn’t witness any odd comings or goings.
Pale Cat accompanies Green Snake. He’ll ensure that nothing goes wrong.
But not even the protestations of a Hopaye could save them. This thing was too dangerous.
Trust in Power, Green Snake had said. But it was Power that had taken him from her in the first place.
Gods, why couldn’t we have just climbed into your nice northern canoe and left this place?
“Are you still awake?” Morning Dew asked from her bed across the room. The woman lifted her head, black hair tumbling around her face.
“Go back to sleep. It’s nothing.”
Morning Dew dropped her head back to the bedding, but a moment later flipped the blanket off and stood. She walked over, awkward with sleep, to seat herself beside Heron Wing. Her knowing eyes studied Heron Wing’s face.
“Do I want to know what is happening?”
“Not if you value your life.” She glanced at the woman, seeing concern behind her dark eyes. “My whole world has become chaos.”
“Green Snake?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Morning Dew smiled. “I thought I was in love once.” She shook her head. “But if our roles had been reversed, I’m not sure. Had I had to spend ten years away from Screaming Falcon, I don’t know that I’d be as committed as you are.”
“Perhaps it was being married to Smoke Shield. I had time to dwell on a better man.”
Morning Dew stared wistfully at the fire. “I am a worthless woman.”
Heron Wing lifted her eyebrow. “Oh?”
“My husband meant everything to me. Hardly a moment passed without me thinking of him. When I married him, it was the most marvelous day of my life. We only had days, but they were miraculous. Then, after the raid, I don’t know what happened. I lived with the horror of what was happening to him. Then, after that night . . .” She shrugged. “Can you love someone, and then, when it’s all over, barely grieve for them? All I remember from those days was worrying about myself. Not him.” She glanced at Heron Wing. “I cried when he died, but I think now that I was crying for myself.”
Heron Wing smiled, laying her arm over Morning Dew’s shoulders. “Don’t you know what grief is? You always cry for yourself, for what you’ve lost.”
“That seems selfish in some way.”
“Survivors are always selfish.” She glanced up at the dark roof. “That’s what worries me about Green Snake and this insane scheme of his. I’d be happy to embrace selfishness right now. I want him to come and take me away. I want to be a survivor, Morning Dew. I want to have what you had, even for a couple of days.” She closed her eyes. “One night wasn’t enough.”
“What are they doing tonight?”
“Risking their lives. The Seeker has a plan to appease the Chahta war party when it comes.” She glanced at Morning Dew. “Nothing will make much difference if your people and mine start fighting. Like tossing a burning torch on a roof, there will be no way to stop it.”
“What are they—?”
“Are you there?” a voice called from the darkness.
“We’re here,” Heron Wing answered. “But wait a moment. Let me put something over the fire.”
She stood, shuffling through the pots to find a large round bowl. This she laid over the flames, dousing the room in darkness. “Come.”
She felt the draft as he entered, heard the door hanging rasp on wood. Once sure the fabric was in place, she used a stick to pry the bowl out of the hearth. The light flickered, gained strength, and she turned to see Green Snake. Water beaded on his smooth skin, and his hair sparkled with droplets. He was dressed as a warrior, his hair back in a bun pinned with a little white arrow. The partially finished tattoos on his face had been painted in, and a war club hung from his belt. Heavy leather straps rested on his shoulders.
He swung the wooden box from his shoulders, and Morning Dew gasped, staring with disbelief.
“The White Arrow war medicine!” she cried, rising to stand an arm’s length from the intricately carved wood. “How did you get it?”
“With a great deal of risk, danger, and harrowing escapes.” Green Snake’s grin grew wider. “Almost cost me my life. Such close calls I never hope to have again.”
Morning Dew’s expression remained stunned. Heron Wing, however, arched an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Who knows it’s missing?”
“No one.” Green Snake raised the box, letting fire-light gleam on the pearls and shell inlaid into the wood. The Chahta image of a falcon shone from the box lid. “At least, not yet.”
“How did you get this?” Morning Dew asked again, as if having trouble breathing.
“I told you, at risk of—”
Morning Dew stamped her foot, chin lowering as she gave him a disapproving stare.
“All right,” Green Snake said easily. “The Seeker has made a study of plants. Not just ours, but from all over. He mixed up a concoction of datura, hemp, and bits of root of this and that. Pale Cat sprinkled it into one of the black drink cups and had them all drink out of it. When he stepped to the doorway and gave me the sign, I just walked in.” His expression turned quizzical.
“And then what happened?” Heron Wing prompted.
“It was an odd sensation. That was the last place I was before Rattle—I mean, Smoke Shield—came to the door and I struck him down. It brought back curious memories.” He shook it off. “No matter, being dressed as a warrior I just walked past the sleepers; the idea was that if any of them awakened, they’d just see another warrior walking through. With so many strangers in town, who’d know?”
“And why did you bring it here?” Heron Wing asked.
Green Snake cocked his head. “Does that bother you?”
“Yes,” both women replied.
Heron Wing crossed her arms. “That’s a very Powerful medicine. A man’s medicine. What do you intend on doing with it in a woman’s house?”
He gave her that familiar old smile, the one that barely curled the corners of his lips. “Can you think of the last place Smoke Shield would think to look for it?”
“Here?”
“Precisely.” He gestured with the box toward her back room. “I could put it back there if you’d sleep better.”
“Sleep? With that thing here? I doubt it.” Heron Wing gestured her acceptance. “But I suppose that’s the best we can do.”
Green Snake stepped into the storage room. She heard boxes and ceramic jars being moved. Then he emerged, clapping his hands.
“Now,” he said easily, “the next problem is how to let Great Cougar know we’ve got it.”
Heron Wing crossed her arms. “What? No magic potion for that in the Seeker’s bag?”
Morning Dew had a strange look on her face, one filled with disbelief and awe.
“Sorry,” Green Snake said. “Somehow, getting word to Great Cougar isn’t a matter of leaves and herbs. We’re just going to have to hope that we have enough warning . . . that either I or Old White can slip away and offer it to him.”
Heron Wing rubbed her tired face. “I suppose that you know the Council has been called for the day after tomorrow?”
“Pale Cat said as much.”
“Why didn’t he take it to the Panther Clan palace?” she demanded. “Smoke Shield certainly isn’t going to search there!”
“No, but Panther Clan warriors would recognize that box.” Green Snake pointed toward the hidden medicine. “If one of them sees it, we’re undone.”
“And your house?”
Green Snake shrugged. “We’re running out of space under our floor.”
“Under your floor?”
Green Snake grinned. “Trade that we didn’t want itchy fingers to lift when we were out of the house.”
Heron Wing took a deep breath, rubbing her hands over her arms. “It gives me the shakes, knowing such Power is there, behind that wall. I can feel it now. How am I supposed to sleep here?”
“You could come to my house,” he said, the grin widening.
Heron Wing placed her fingers to her temples. “Don’t—not even in jest. That’s like a knife to my heart.”
Morning Dew seemed to come to herself. “Go with him, Heron Wing.”
“What?”
“There are no secrets here. You yourself said that one night wasn’t enough.” She placed her hands on Heron Wing’s shoulders, looking into her eyes with steely resolve. “The medicine belongs to my people. It was carried by my husband. It won’t bother my Dreams. And, as to anyone seeing you, this city was turned upside down by the wind. Half the houses are hosting people who are dislocated until they can fix their roofs. Assuming you rise early—and aren’t seen leaving Green Snake’s—who will know?”
“Do you know what you’re suggesting?”
Morning Dew’s eyes filled with compassion. “I do. Now go. If anyone comes looking for you, I’ll handle it. Trust me.”
Heron Wing pursed her lips, her heart hammering. “I can’t do this thing.”
“A moment ago, you were desperate. Don’t learn the lesson the way I did. Tonight may be all that you get.”
“Matron?” Old White’s hand settled lightly on Heron Wing’s shoulder. “It will be light soon. You should go.”
“I keep telling you, I’m not a matron.” Heron Wing sat up, Green Snake shifting beside her.
The Seeker crouched in the darkness. “It’s one of the curses of old age. I sometimes awaken early.”
“I hope we didn’t disturb you last night.”
She heard his hoarse laughter. “Nothing that memories . . . and a loathing envy for a lost youth can’t cope with.”
She pulled the blanket back, standing in the cold air. She found her dress and pulled it over her head, belting it at the waist.
“Is it morning?” Green Snake asked muzzily.
“You sleep. You had a busy night.”
She could see his teeth in the darkness, smile beaming.
“Thank you, Seeker,” she said as she stepped to the door hanging and looked out into the predawn gloom. Seeing no one, she slipped along the wall, rounded the corner of the house, and followed her way quickly through the maze of Skunk Clan houses. She forced herself to keep from breaking into a run as she hurried along the northern margins of the plaza, aware that others were already about. If she met someone, what did she say? Clan business? Not coming from the direction of Old Camp Moiety grounds. That wouldn’t do.
She passed the empty squares and cut across to her house where it stood just east of the Great Mound. Passing the mortar and her tattered ramada, she ducked into her doorway and sighed with relief.
Gods, what would have happened if I had slept the morning away? “Bless you, Seeker.”
She sighed, walked to the fire, and used a stick to fish for coals. After pushing them into a pile atop the ash, she went to the box of kindling by the door for tinder. Within moments a thin filament of smoke was replaced by a tiny dancing flame. One by one, she fed sticks until she had a fair blaze. Only then did she retreat to her sleeping bench and pull her dress over her head.
Her gaze was drawn to the back room: She could almost feel the presence of the White Arrow medicine box. The thing was going to weigh on her until Green Snake managed to send it to Great Cougar; but how on earth was he going to manage that? She shivered at the thought of the thing’s Power.
“Gods, and you slept here?” she asked, turning to Morning Dew’s bed. She blinked, rubbing her eyes. The blankets lay flat.
Heron Wing stood, stepping around to see that the woman’s bed was empty. “Morning Dew?”
Silence.
She stepped back, seating herself on her bed, staring across the room. Morning Dew had gone, too? Had the Power of the box driven her out?
Or, did she, too, have a man that she had gone sneaking off to? “No, she would have told me.”
At that moment, a dark shape filled her door. An angry Smoke Shield burst into the room. He stopped short, seeing her sitting naked on her bed. His hands kept curling into fists, the muscles in his arms bulging and swelling.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, a sudden fear rising in her breast.
“So, it is not you.”
She grabbed up her blanket, wrapping it around her body. “What are you talking about?”
“One of my wives is betraying me. The Prophet told me.” Then he marched to the back room. As he did, her heart tripped in her breast.
“What are you . . . ?” The words died in her throat. She felt faint. He would see the medicine box, know immediately what it was.
She should have run after him, sought to distract him. Instead she sat, frozen in horror. He was tossing things about. A ceramic jar shattered in a hollow pop, and then he came storming out, a thunderous darkness on his face. He stopped, bouncing on his toes. “Where is the box?”
“What . . . box?”
“The White Arrow war medicine. Where is it?”
“I don’t—” His hard slap snapped her head back.
“The Prophet said it was brought here!”
Heart hammering, she glared up at him. “Do you really think I would have foreign war medicine in my house? It’s men’s Power, you fool!”
His next blow shot yellow light behind her eyes and knocked her sideways. She blinked, vision spinning. Her fingers clutched desperately at the blankets.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Tear the house apart if you wish. I have nothing of yours.”
He stood, trembling with rage, his nostrils flaring. The twilight cast a black shadow down the deep scar on his head. “Violet Bead,” he muttered. “It must be Violet Bead.” In his violent haste to leave, his shoulder hit the door frame hard enough to shake her entire house.
Heron Wing lay panting, heart pounding. She wet her lips, tightening her fingers in the coarse weave of the blanket.
The Prophet told him.
Her gaze fastened on the doorway leading to the rear. She’d seen Green Snake walk through that door, heard him as he found a place for the medicine box.
She forced herself to climb to her unsteady feet. Pressing fingers to the stinging side of her face, she stepped to the doorway.
Smoke Shield had made a mess. But despite the wreckage, she could see where Green Snake had placed the box the night before. He’d moved her baskets to clear a space that now lay vacant along the back wall.
Gone! The box is gone!
Who . . . ? Then it hit her with the force of Smoke Shield’s fist.
“Gods,” she whispered. “Morning Dew . . .”
A terrible scream rent the quiet air.
Heron Wing hurried to her door, leaning out to stare toward Violet Bead’s, where a naked young man came crashing out into the dawn. Behind him, Smoke Shield leapt like a panther.
The naked man squealed in terror, struggled to rise, and then Smoke Shield was on him, howling and screaming like some enraged cat. She saw Smoke Shield’s arm rise, could make out something in his hand. The meaty impact of breaking flesh and bone sent a tremor through her. Again and again, Smoke Shield hammered the man’s head.
A naked Violet Bead appeared at her doorway, desperately trying to pull Smoke Shield back. He rose, turning, clamping a hand to her throat. Violet Bead was pushed back into the house, and moments later the shrieks began.
Each was like a needle in Heron Wing’s souls.