The familiar feel of the wooden pack on his back, and the heavy fabric bag over his shoulder, had a calming effect on Old White. Across countless mountains, deserts, forests, and swamps these familiar weights had been his companions. Now they accompanied him on their final journey across the beaten grass of the plaza.
Seven Dead waited right where he had said he would: beside the first guardian post. Blood Skull, dressed in finery, stood at his side, a battered war club hanging from his belt. Both men had pulled their warriors’ locks through polished white shell beads, their faces were painted, and raccoon-hide capes hung from their shoulders.
“Looks like a fine morning, Tishu Minko,” Old White greeted. “And good day to you, warrior.”
“Seeker,” Seven Dead greeted, tension in the set of his mouth.
“And the scouts we discussed last night?” Old White asked.
Blood Skull said, “I have sent twenty trusted men, all with precise instructions. They’re spaced so that not even a deer could emerge from the forest without one knowing. All are fleet of foot, and should be able to outrace any of the Chahta scouts getting back here.”
“Let us hope that Great Cougar comes later rather than sooner,” Seven Dead said.
“On that, I most assuredly agree,” Old White told him. He glanced up at the tchkofa stairs. “Shall we see what happens?”
“The guards at the top are Raccoon Clan.” Seven Dead smiled grimly. “Appointing the guards is the tishu minko’s responsibility.”
“And the Albaamaha?”
Blood Skull jerked his head toward the side of the mound. “Just out of sight. Amber Bead brought them just as you said he would.” He made a face. “I don’t like the idea of Albaamaha leveling charges against Sky Hand in our own tchkofa.”
Old White gave him a disarming smile. “You’d like a revolt even less, warrior. But think about it: In the eyes of Power, isn’t justice, justice?”
“Are you always this persuasive?” Blood Skull asked suspiciously.
“After all my years, I would hope that some sort of wisdom has stuck to these bones.”
“Let us go,” Seven Dead said. “I can see Smoke Shield descending the Sun Stairs.”
Old White nodded, following the man up the wooden stairway to the palisade. “And Green Snake?”
“He’s already inside with Heron Wing and Pale Cat.”
“No questions about his pack?”
“No. Should there be?”
“I’d hope not.”
Blood Skull shook himself as if dispelling some presentiment, and then they nodded to the guards. “I just hope you can be as persuasive here as you were last night.”
“More so, warrior. Wait and see.”
Seven Dead gestured his respect as they passed the guardian posts, then hesitated at the doorway. “Elder, have you given any thought to afterward?”
“How’s that?”
“No matter what happens today, it has crossed my mind that you might need protection.”
Old White considered that. “I thank you for your offer, but somehow, I think not even Smoke Shield will dare to threaten me.”
Blood Skull said darkly, “That tells me you know nothing of your enemy. A man who will kill someone under the protection of the white arrow won’t hesitate at cracking your skull.”
Old White raised an eyebrow. “I came home to die. If that’s what it takes to bring Smoke Shield down, so be it.”
Flying Hawk tried to keep his legs from trembling as he descended the Sun Stairs. It wasn’t enough that he hadn’t ordered the repairs—men were too busy trying to clean up after the windstorm. This morning his thoughts were on anything but the increasingly treacherous steps. Smoke Shield had caught him just as he stepped out into the great room. His nephew had clamped a hard hand to Flying Hawk’s throat. Jutting his face close, he’d said, “I know what you’ve done, old man. I know the depths of your treachery! If you weren’t on the way to the Council, I’d deal with you right now.”
And he had thrust Flying Hawk away, leaving him to stumble against the wall, coughing and massaging his throat while his heart hammered.
“Gods,” he whispered to himself. “He’s going to kill me for sending those warriors north.”
And Blood Skull? He’d have to be warned. Who knew the extent of Smoke Shield’s rage?
“I’ve been a fool . . . such a fool.” He reached the bottom of the staircase, for once heedless of the pain in his knee. The ache in his heart drowned any other discomfort.
He bowed to the Tree of Life and then reached out to run his fingers along the curling white stripe on its side. “I have always been tied to the red Power, but today, I can only wish you would smile favorably upon me.” Then he remembered the dead Yuchi, and blood on the white arrow. No, white Power would never forgive that. He switched to the red, rapping it with his knuckles, binding himself to its Power, and continued on his way.
A small collection of people waited around the guardian posts. Today’s Council wouldn’t generate much in the way of excitement. The discussion of the palisade was the most important consideration, though Smoke Shield’s attack on Two Beavers might rear its ugly head.
He touched his forehead in respect as he passed the guardians, and climbed the steps to nod at the hard-eyed guards. What lay behind their worried stares? Some presentiment that boded him ill?
He touched his forehead as he passed the lines of clan totems and sighed, stopping just short of the doorway. Were there a way, he’d be rid of this whole business. He was tired of being high minko, tired of Smoke Shield and his schemes, tired of his entire life.
At the rasping sound of wings, he looked up, but found no great bird hovering above him in the sky.
Willing himself forward, he entered the hallway and stepped into the tchkofa. The fire, as always, was burning brightly. Since the storm, the boys who tended it had found no shortage of snapped wood to replenish the fuel stocks.
The chiefs sat in their respective places, though a crowd had gathered behind the Panther Clan. He walked to his stool behind the altar, aware of Smoke Shield’s cunning glint. The man was smoldering, his anger apparent. But never had Flying Hawk seen his own murder behind those eyes.
Instinctively, he cast a glance at Wooden Cougar, who sat with Cleft Skull, the dent in the latter’s head catching the light. Flying Hawk nodded, feeling curious sympathy for the clan chief and his worry about Two Beavers. There had been truth to the claim that if Smoke Shield had spent more time seeing to his domestic duties, none of this would have occurred. Two Poisons and Smells-His-Death stood at their places, looking slit-eyed at Smoke Shield.
For his part, the war chief stood stiffly, his muscular arms crossed; his unbending expression was for Flying Hawk alone.
Well, let the gaming pieces be cast. What I did, I did for the safety of the people. If that led Smoke Shield to kill him, so be it. Knowing his people, they would prepare his body with great ceremony and give his souls a proper start to the west. There, if he had the fortitude of Spirit, he would pass through the Seeing Hand as the great constellation set in the west. After that, he only had his murdered brother’s souls to contend with.
He chuckled. After Smoke Shield, it would be a relief.
Flying Hawk clapped his hands, and Seven Dead stepped forward with a cup of black drink. Then, as was proper, the man tipped tobacco into the Eagle Pipe, careful not to touch the leaf. He tamped it with a wooden rod and lit the bowl from the fire.
Flying Hawk stepped forward, taking a drink of the hot, bitter tea, then puffing on the pipe. He exhaled the blue smoke and looked up at the morning light angling through the smoke hole. Then he considered his words. He could sense Power in the room, some brooding presence that demanded satisfaction.
“We send our earnest prayers to you, Breath Giver, and pray that you will bless us with sunshine and rain. We ask you to send us the order and harmony of the white Power. Let it fill our hearts with peace in these trying times. From the red Power we beg courage, strength, and the creativity to solve the terrible problems we face. Today, here, I ask you to grant us wisdom and health.”
Grunts of assent came from the chiefs. Smoke Shield, he couldn’t help but notice, remained silent.
Flying Hawk took a moment, wondering if this would be the last time he addressed the Council as high minko. One by one, he looked at the chiefs, even nodding to Amber Bead where he stood in the back. The old man behind Seven Dead was unfamiliar. And to his surprise, Heron Wing stood behind Pale Cat and Night Star. Another stranger stood obscured by the shadows in the rear.
Seven Dead and Blood Skull were watching him with a curious intensity. He glanced back at Smoke Shield, could see his barely contained rage. Was this more than just the problem of the palisade?
“Today,” Flying Hawk began, “we must address the situation of the palisade. Our good councilor, Amber Bead—”
“I think there is something more pressing,” Smoke Shield interrupted, stepping forward.
Flying Hawk sighed, turning his weary gaze to his nephew. “Yes, War Chief? What is it?”
Smoke Shield ground his teeth. “May I have the floor?”
“You may.”
Smoke Shield stepped forward, lifted the large shell cup, and drank of the black drink. Then he bent, taking a pull from the pipe and blowing smoke toward the opening. He raised his head to the sunlight. “Breath Giver, hear my words and know they are true. I have come to address this Council, my heart weeping.”
He turned, staring at each chief in turn. “I have come to speak of treachery!”
Flying Hawk shook his head. “There is no treachery. I ordered the warriors to move in your name. I could not—”
“What?” Smoke Shield cried in amazement. “You did what?”
Flying Hawk spread his arms. “It is not treachery to order our warriors north to intercept the Yuchi.”
Smoke Shield gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Great Cougar comes from the west! Our palisade is down, and you have ordered the warriors to the north?”
Flying Hawk explained, “The war chief has been under some distress. His—”
Smoke Shield stomped up to glare into his face. “You are Green Snake’s agent! You are the one setting us up for betrayal! And now you have ordered the warriors away! Great Cougar could be here at any moment!”
“This is a fantasy, War Chief. Told to you by your witch. Only you believe that Great Cougar is making some impossible strike at Split Sky City.”
Smoke Shield’s muscles were knotted, his mouth working. “Old man, you may have killed us all!”
Flying Hawk heard the gasp from the chiefs.
“You see,” Wooden Cougar said just loud enough to be heard, “he has lost his wits.”
“Enough!” Smoke Shield thundered, his finger lancing out at Wooden Cougar. “Power has sent me a Prophet. Here we sit, blaming each other, and all the while, Green Snake is working his evil to undermine us. I tell you, Great Cougar is coming, and I have no doubts that Green Snake is plotting with the Chahta, as well as the Yuchi. The coward seeks to destroy us so that he is declared high minko!”
Pale Cat stepped forward. “How do you know this, War Chief? Tell us what you have heard.” He paused. “You do refer to your brother, don’t you?”
“My brother is a Yuchi traitor!” Smoke Shield turned, narrowing his eyes. “As to the rest, I have my own sources of information.”
Pale Cat nodded patiently. “Is that what the Yuchi messenger was coming to tell you under the white arrow? That Green Snake was returning to his people? Is that how you know?”
Smoke Shield’s hard lips curled. “I said, I have my sources. And they come straight from Power.”
Blood Skull then stepped forward. “If you knew Great Cougar was headed this way, why did you withdraw most of the scouts from the Horned Serpent River Divide?”
“They were becoming too fond of the Chahta. I told you that. You know that I was setting a trap for Great Cougar, and then you let this old . . . the high minko order them away? Are you plotting with Green Snake, too?”
It was Night Star who asked, “How do you know that Green Snake is plotting against us? From the rumors I’ve heard, all he did was Trade and play chunkey with the Yuchi.”
“Trade and play chunkey?” Smoke Shield laughed, clapping a hand on his thigh. “He sent an assassin to murder our high minko! That must have been some Trade.”
“Next you will be telling us that he murdered the White Arrow captives, and stole their war medicine out of the Men’s House,” Pale Cat said in an even voice.
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Seven Dead asked, “So, how did he do all this?”
Smoke Shield turned to Flying Hawk. “From right under our eyes. No one would notice the high minko in the Men’s House. He could have walked right out the door, the White Arrow war medicine in his hands.” His smile was a frightening thing. “Is that it, Uncle? Did you fear me so much that you had to call my cowardly brother back? Don’t you remember how he left? He didn’t even have the courage to kill that Yuchi captive, and now he marches with them.”
Flying Hawk raised his hands in despair. “You think I took the Chahta war medicine? I did no such thing. I know nothing more about Green Snake than what the Yuchi told us.”
Smoke Shield’s expression changed from rage to amazement that Flying Hawk would bring up the Yuchi messenger. “You go too far, Uncle! Do not change the facts. Next you will blame the Yuchi’s murder on me, when all I did was save you from Green Snake’s assassin!”
A strident voice called out, “There was no assassin! You have lied all of your life, and it stops now.”
Flying Hawk turned to see the man behind Heron Wing emerge from the shadows. He blinked as the stranger stepped past Pale Cat and into the circle before the fire. Smoke Shield gaped, as if in disbelief.
“Breath Giver take me,” Flying Hawk whispered as recognition dawned. The man—so different, so much older than the boy he had known—could be no other than Green Snake himself!
Green Snake met Flying Hawk’s incredulous gaze, asking, “Might your nephew address this Council, High Minko?”
Flying Hawk hesitated, confused. He took a breath to deny Green Snake’s request.
“You may not!” Smoke Shield bellowed. “Warriors! Seize this traitor!”
As Smoke Shield started forward, Flying Hawk placed a hand on his shoulder. By the gods, I am in charge here! “He will speak, War Chief.” And in a louder voice, “Or are you declaring yourself high minko without the Council’s confirmation?”
Flying Hawk felt the building anger, the boiling hatred seething in Smoke Shield’s body. Yes, do it. Attack him here, and finish my problems once and for all.
But Smoke Shield, sensing the danger, stepped back.
Through it all, Green Snake had stood, hands on his hips. His hard eyes had burned into Smoke Shield’s, daring him to attack. He hadn’t flinched; not even the slightest flicker of fear had betrayed itself.
Flying Hawk took a good look at him, seeing the corded muscle in his shoulders and arms. He wore a Chief Clan copper headpiece, and though the tattoos remained unfinished, this was a man to be reckoned with.
“You may take the drink, Green Snake.” He indicated the pipe and cup.
With great dignity, Green Snake lifted the black drink, offered it to the sky, and drank. Then he bent, taking a long draw from the Eagle Pipe. When he stood and blew the smoke upward, he called out in a clear voice, “Breath Giver, Power has sent me here. It called me from the north, and I have followed its call. I have come to speak the truth, and make restitution to my clan for the attack on my brother. I have come to bring Power back into balance.”
He turned, meeting the chiefs’ eyes one by one. Finally he nodded to Flying Hawk. “Many of you don’t know me. I am Green Snake Mankiller, son of Clear Crow, who was daughter of Midnight Woman. I am of the Chief Clan of the Hickory Moiety. It has been more than ten winters now since I lost my temper and struck down my brother.”
He turned, pacing, talking to each of the chiefs in order. “I was in a rage, not even having finished my initiation into the Men’s House. I struck my brother down. Gave him that scar you see on the side of his face.” He paused. “And I hated myself for that. In shame, I left. For more than ten winters, I have traveled the rivers under the Power of Trade. All that time I lived with the terrible knowledge that I had killed my brother. But when Power thought I had been punished enough, it called me to return. Now, I find him alive.”
“You should have stayed far away, coward,” Smoke Shield hissed.
Green Snake ignored it. “So, now I have returned.” He glanced at Smoke Shield. “But apparently not at the head of a Yuchi army. And, I assure you, I have not come back to step in and have myself declared high minko should my uncle pass.”
“Then why are you here?” Smoke Shield demanded.
“To make restitution. As I have said. And to balance Power.”
“You?” Smoke Shield cried in amazement. “You who couldn’t even kill a Yuchi prisoner?”
Green Snake’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you tell them the truth, Brother? Or do you want me to tell the Kala Hi’ki’s story? Do you want to explain how you came to the Men’s House that night? How you told me you had coupled with the woman I wished to marry? How you said that she had been lying with other men down by the river? Do you want to tell the chiefs all the things you did to drive me into such a rage that I gave you that scar?”
“If you are so brave, why didn’t you stay and tell them, then?”
The corner of Green Snake’s lip twitched. “Because the most terrible part of that night was that I had acted just like you, Rattle.”
Smoke Shield rocked on his toes. Flying Hawk recognized that stance: Smoke Shield struggled to keep himself from lunging at Green Snake.
“Now, I wonder,” Smoke Shield said, finding his control. “Who really did kill the White Arrow prisoners?”
“I thought you said it was the Albaamaha?” Green Snake countered. “That’s why you went after Red Awl.”
Smoke Shield threw his head back, and laughter rolled from his throat. “So, you’ve heard those lies, too?”
Green Snake turned. “High Minko, on behalf of Panther and Raccoon Clans, we ask that the woman known as Lotus Root be allowed to address this Council. She was witness to the actions of the war chief in that hut above Clay Bank Crossing. She escaped, carrying off the war chief’s bow and arrows. Later, the Albaamaha discovered a warrior named Fast Legs stalking her. She was witness when Sky Hand warriors—dressed as Chahta—murdered twenty-three Albaamaha men, women, and children.”
Flying Hawk gaped. “How do you know this?”
“She was hidden in the forest when the supposed Chahta chopped the bodies apart. She watched the war chief’s men bury the scalps beside the hut where they were holding Fast Legs. She is just outside. She possesses the war chief’s bow, the bag of scalps, and the bones of her murdered husband. Hear her story, High Minko.”
Grunts of assent came from Raccoon and Panther Clans.
“I will not!” Flying Hawk snapped.
Green Snake nodded. “If that is the high minko’s wish.” He looked around at the stunned chiefs, at Amber Bead in the back, who now, for the first time, smiled and nodded.
“That was Smoke Shield’s plan,” Green Snake said. “His way of covering both his crimes, and his—”
“Enough!” Flying Hawk growled, stepping forward. “You are dismissed.”
Green Snake inclined his head. “As my high minko wishes. But it is too late. The truth is set free. Lotus Root waits outside, ready to show anyone the evidence. However, before I leave, I have restitution to make.” He turned. “Hopaye?”
Fuming, desperately aware of how close he had just come to disaster, Flying Hawk couldn’t help but feel a rising curiosity as the Hopaye struggled forward, bearing a heavy fabric-wrapped pack. This, Green Snake helped him place before the fire.
All eyes were on the oblong shape.
“Uncle,” Green Snake said. “Power sent me here. I only begin to know the ways and means of it, but I offer this to my people in restitution for my actions the night I struck down my brother.”
He bent, lifting one side and slipping the fabric from a carved wooden box. When he stood clear, the thing lay bathed in the firelight. As if on cue, the shaft of sunlight caught the edge of the wood, shooting its rays across the Sky Hand design with its inlaid pearls, shell, and copper.
“What is that?” Smoke Shield asked sourly. He’d been watching Green Snake like a hunting cougar. Death lay behind his eyes, curled and prepared to spring. Flying Hawk chuckled to himself. No matter what, Green Snake was now a walking corpse.
“The Sky Hand war medicine,” Green Snake said. “The medicine High Minko Makes War carried when he was captured by the Yuchi. Power has seen fit to return it to our people.”
“And you would consider this restitution?” Flying Hawk asked. “Leave it. And be gone from this place by nightfall.”
“What?” Green Snake stared, disbelieving.
Flying Hawk looked around. “This should be clan business, but all may hear. You have been gone, Green Snake, fled because of cowardice. Perhaps it was fitting. You have just said that you meant to kill your brother. But for Power, he would have died. No, I think there was a reason you were made to leave us. As clan leader, I order you to leave our lands. Go back to your Yuchi friends. Work your poison elsewhere.”
“After bringing you the Sky Hand war medicine, you would order me away?” Green Snake asked.
“By my authority as clan elder, I order you banished, Nephew. If you do not go, warriors will take you to the borders. And this time make sure you never return.”
A sad smile hovered at the corners of Green Snake’s lips. “That is your final word?”
“As leader of the Chief Clan, it is.” He turned. “War Chief, escort this man to the canoe landing.”
“You will not touch him!” a vibrant voice called.
Old White stepped forward, fixing Smoke Shield with hard eyes. “You are an abomination.” He turned his attention to Flying Hawk. “And you, High Minko, are a disappointment.”
“Beware, old man.” Smoke Shield smiled in anticipation as Old White stopped before him.
“Wipe that smirk off your face.” He glared at him.
Flying Hawk said, “You, whoever you are, have no right to speak here. War Chief, remove this irritation from my Council.”
Old White grinned as Smoke Shield stepped forward. “I wouldn’t do that, Grape. You are already Dancing on the thin edge of Power. There are grave consequences when you ignore your debt to the man who once saved your life. But then, you are already complicit in killing a man under protection of the white arrow. What would you care about a blood debt, when you agreed to the murder of innocent Albaamaha?”
Flying Hawk raised a hand, stopping Smoke Shield. “I don’t know you. And, trust me, I’d remember any man who saved my life.”
Old White turned, pacing out toward the black drink and the Eagle Pipe. He looked back. “I will drink and smoke, as is my right.”
Smoke Shield started forward, only to have Green Snake step in his way. The two men locked gazes, violence literally crackling between them. Then Flying Hawk pulled his nephew back. The room was as quiet as a log tomb. Better to let this madness play out, then pick apart the lies.
Old White lifted the cup and took a deep swig of the bitter tea. Then he bent, pulling on the Eagle Pipe. He straightened, blowing smoke into the shaft of sunlight that now gleamed full on the medicine box.
“Breath Giver, I have heard your call. From the Katsina’s message, until now, I have followed the path you laid out for me. I will now tell the tale I have had locked in my souls for fifty hard summers and winters.”
He turned, facing the Council. “Makatok! It all began when Makes War, high minko of the Sky Hand, went north to war with the Yuchi. I was but a little boy when he marched out at the head of a line of warriors.” He pointed. “That war medicine was carried on his back. Days passed, but no word of the war party was heard. And then several of our bloody and wounded warriors returned telling of a terrible Yuchi ambush. Our high minko, and the war medicine, were lost.”
He shot a glance at Flying Hawk. “Midnight Woman blamed herself for the disaster. You see, she had teased her husband, goaded him to war with the Yuchi when there was nothing to be gained from it. When news came that he had died hanging in a Yuchi square . . . something changed inside her. She became different, as if her souls had withdrawn and hidden deep inside her. Not even her young son could coax a smile from her.
“As one of the leaders of the Chief Clan, it was mandatory that she remarry. In seeking a husband to replace the man she loved, she chose Bear Tooth. Not because she loved him, but because he was a cunning warrior. And in those next few years, Bear Tooth made a new war medicine. His raids drove the Yuchi back from the central Tenasee Valley. By him, Midnight Woman had two sons, twins. Grape here, and Acorn.”
“We know all this,” Flying Hawk complained.
“And you know about the night of the fire, too, don’t you?” Old White turned. “Do you remember how Bear Tooth used to fly into fits of rage?”
“Of course. He terrified us. Why Mother ever put up with it is beyond my understanding.”
“She did it because every time he beat her, she was punishing herself for her role in Makes War’s death. Don’t you understand? She loved that man, and blamed herself for his death.”
“Death is part of war.”
“Oh, to be sure.” Old White nodded. “But love has a Power all its own. Midnight Woman accepted Bear Tooth’s abuse because she believed deep down in her souls that she deserved it.”
“This is an old, old story. Who are you?”
“I am Old White, the man they call the Seeker. I have traveled from one end of our world to the other. Some say I’m a legend.” He could see a sharpening of interest among the chiefs. “But that distracts me from my story. The night of the great fire, a terrible wind was blowing—one even more fierce than the one that savaged this city at equinox. But in the palace, a greater storm was brewing. That night, Bear Tooth was enraged. Midnight Woman had told him that even she had finally had enough. She was moving her belongings to her sister’s. That would be Rose Bloom, wife of Tishu Minko Fighting Hawk, of the Raccoon Clan.”
He grinned at Flying Hawk’s growing skepticism. “Bear Tooth couldn’t stand the thought of it. The humiliation was too much for him. He’d known from the beginning that she was in love with a dead man—that every time he lay with her, she made love to Makes War’s ghost. That night the full wrath of his anger broke free.”
Old White looked down at the medicine box. “He beat her something fierce. Then he ripped the clothes from her body and took her on the matting. He slapped her, struck her, and finally choked the very air out of her lungs. That’s when Hickory stepped into the room. He could no longer stand seeing his mother treated that way.” He glanced at Flying Hawk. “Just after that he went to send you and Acorn away.”
“How do you know all this?” Flying Hawk asked. “Did you piece this all together from bits and pieces? Is this something you learned among the Traders?”
Smoke Shield pointed with a finger. “I’ve heard enough. The high minko has ordered you and this coward to leave Sky Hand country.”
“He can’t,” Old White said reasonably. “He has no authority over me.”
“You are sadly mistaken, Seeker,” Flying Hawk declared, a slow anger brewing behind the twitching muscles in his face. “If—of course—you’re really the man of legend.”
“Oh, I am indeed.” Old White paused, staring into Flying Hawk’s eyes. “But before that, I was known as Hickory, son of Midnight Woman of the Chief Clan. I was the one who went to your room that night, Grape. Don’t you remember when I pulled back the hanging and told you to run to Kosi Fighting Hawk’s?”
“Hickory is dead!” Flying Hawk gritted in a strangled voice.
“Did you find his body?” Old White asked calmly.
“There were bones everywhere! War trophies. Who could tell whose bones were whose?”
“You have no proof of any of this!” Smoke Shield bellowed as he paced belligerently back and forth.
Old White shook his head. “Such a sorry state of affairs you’ve led our people to.” His hand slipped into the heavy fabric sack hanging at his side. “You don’t even honor the return of your Ancestors’ war medicine. For that alone Power will condemn you.” From the sack, he withdrew a beautifully polished stone war club. It was a ceremonial piece, carved from solid rock; the handle was engraved with winged serpents; the Seeing Hand had been rendered on both sides of the monolith’s blade. “Wasn’t this missing from the burned wreckage, Grape?”
Flying Hawk’s face took on a look of awe. “Bear Tooth’s war ax! Gods, how did you get it?”
“I picked it up from where it stood propped on its special tripod beside the hearth.” Old White tightened his grip on its stone handle. “And I walked back, stepped into their room, and drove this blade into the back of Bear Tooth’s accursed head!”
Old White took a breath. The heavy ax shook in his grip. Slowly, he lowered it. “That is why you cannot order Green Snake from Sky Hand lands. You are not clan elder, Grape. I am!”