Trader stood dumbfounded. Gods, even he had trouble believing it.
He saw Flying Hawk’s awe turn to disbelief. The man staggered backward, propping himself on the tripod. His eyes fixed on the polished black stone ax. “He would have killed you for touching that.”
“He would have killed us all,” Old White said softly. “Once I made sure you and Acorn were safely out of the building, I went back. I pulled his body off of Mother’s. He’d bled all over her. I started to drag her, trying to move her to somewhere where I could sponge the blood from her dead face. Then she coughed. She blinked, and I propped her up against one of the beds.”
Old White sadly shook his head. “The blood was everywhere, and she touched it, looking first at the red smears on her fingers and then at Bear Tooth. She stared at me as if I were some incomprehensible being, like something out of her Dreams. I was told to go and find warm water, fetch some cloths.”
Old White stared thoughtfully at the ax. “When I came back, she’d poured hickory oil all over herself. Then she reached down, picked up another of the jars, and . . .”
“What did she do, Seeker?” Green Snake prompted in the silence.
The old man looked at him. “She smashed it in the fire, Trader. And the flames . . . The flames . . .” He closed his eyes, the weight of the stone ax pulling at his slumping shoulders.
“We are to believe this?” Smoke Shield asked.
“That’s when the Power began to change,” Green Snake said, realization dawning. “That’s why we were called back. So that the Seeker . . . Hickory, could tell the tale. It’s time to heal the wounds, to call ourselves back into harmony with Power.”
“And how will you do that?” Smoke Shield kicked out at the war medicine shining in the sunlight. “With an old box?”
“It’s too late, Rattle,” Green Snake told his brother. “The truth is free . . . no matter what you do to us. You are exposed, destroyed. You will never be high minko now.”
Smoke Shield laughed. “How wrong you are! The Prophet has told me—”
Smoke Shield never finished. At that moment, a man hastened through the entry, calling, “My chief!” He was young, wearing a brown hunting shirt. He raced along the back wall, whispering to Wooden Cougar. The Crawfish Clan chief listened, shock expressed on his face. Then he stood. In a hoarse voice, he stated, “Two Beavers is dead.”
A rustle of fabric was accompanied by the dark looks shot between the clan chiefs.
“Murder,” Two Poisons said, turning eyes on Smoke Shield.
Wooden Cougar pointed at Smoke Shield. “Either restitution must be made, or the same punishment must be meted. Those are the laws of our people. To do otherwise is to invoke blood feud between our clans!”
“The man was with my wife!” Smoke Shield bellowed. “He was in her bed!”
“Smoke Shield is right! There are extenuating circumstances,” Flying Hawk snapped, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it as he kept staring wide-eyed at the Seeker.
Green Snake shook his head, seeing the way it would go. If something wasn’t done, the Council was going to tear itself apart. Even now, Flying Hawk still insisted on defending Smoke Shield? It was lunacy!
Then Green Snake heard it: clear, as though disconnected from the growing din in the tchkofa. The Song was so sweet—just as it had been when he was a child. He glanced down at the medicine box, hearing what Two Petals must have that night in the Kaskinampo camp.
“I will offer restitution for my brother!” Green Snake shouted over the din. He reached down, unfastening the straps. “But it will come with conditions.”
“What conditions?” the fuming Wooden Cougar asked.
Green Snake ran his fingers along the wood, feeling the Power. It began to swell, running from the box through his fingers, hands, and arms. “The war medicine is returned to our people. That part of the Power is restored. But it deserves the care of those who would respect it. Not some war chief who calls it an old box and kicks at it with his toe. Not a war chief who kills an Albaamo councilor, rapes his wife, and then murders innocent people while dressed as a Chaktaw. The war medicine is for a people who do not murder messengers bearing the white arrow!”
Wooden Cougar raised a fist. “Then what do you offer, Green Snake?”
“This!” He flipped the lid back, lifting the edge of the box. He was watching Smoke Shield’s eyes as the heavy copper thumped onto the floor.
Gasps came from around the room. The sunlight shot brilliant beams of copper-colored light that filled the tchkofa. It shone on the faces of the chiefs as they moved closer.
Wonder grew in Smoke Shield’s eyes. His mouth dropped open, arms spreading, as if to take in the copper’s reflected brilliance.
Green Snake cried, “I offer copper in restitution for my brother’s murder of the man Two Beavers. I do this with the condition that he leaves this land, that he divorces the Panther Clan woman known as Heron Wing.” He turned hard eyes on Smoke Shield. “And when you leave, you will never come back.”
“By Breath Maker, it’s beautiful!” Smoke Shield whispered as he bent down, running his fingers over the copper. “It’s just as she said.”
“Where is the Contrary?” Green Snake asked.
“By the river, waiting.” Smoke Shield gestured off toward the canoe landing, only vaguely aware of the chiefs who had come to crowd around. “. . . For this.”
“That is your life, Brother. What’s it worth? Heron Wing?”
“Take her!”
“The murder of the Yuchi messenger?”
“What does it matter? He was just a Yuchi.”
“He was under the protection of the white arrow!”
“My Power is red, you fool! And with this, it’s complete!” Smoke Shield bent, lifting the heavy piece. “You said it’s mine to give?”
Green Snake nodded, his heart beginning to pound. “I offered it for your life.”
“With this, I shall become greater than the lords of Cahokia!” Smoke Shield turned and bolted for the door. Lowering his shoulders, he knocked Blood Skull and Seven Dead out of the way. In a flash, he was outside.
“Smoke Shield, wait!” Flying Hawk called hoarsely. Tears had filled the old man’s eyes, streaking down his cheeks. “Take that, and you condemn both of us!”
“That was offered to us!” Wooden Cougar stepped forward, his fist shaking in threat.
Old White leaned close. “Trader, we’d best follow. If the Contrary’s in the middle of this, she may need us.”
The surface of the river looked glassy and smooth in the morning light. It reflected a golden sheen as sunlight sent fingers down into the water. Two Petals sat in the bow of the small dugout she’d chosen. Dragging it down to the shore had been a trial, but she’d managed. Now she waited, her back cupped in the concave hollow where the bow had been scooped out. She ignored the curious stares of the Traders where they sat by their ramadas. The women who walked down to dip ceramic and gourd jars into the water shot curious glances her way. Two fishermen were carefully stowing their trotline, ensuring that the bone hooks, rope, and wooden floats didn’t tangle.
She closed her eyes, drawing in the scents of the landing. Time was slowing around her. As it did, her heart beat with relief.
Then—ever so faintly—she heard the first faint strains of Singing. It rose from the water around her. She smiled at the growing strength of the Song. “My husband comes.”
A voice near her said, “He will make you a good match.”
She opened her eyes to see Deer Man. He stood with his hoofed feet merged in the wood of a nearby canoe. Sunlight glistened on the antlers growing out of his head. A smile lit his face, and he had thrown back his deer-hide cape. “I want to thank you for your help coming to this place,” she said.
“I shall visit you,” Deer Man promised.
“My husband and I will welcome you. Together, we shall Sing and Dance.”
Some of the nearer women backed away, staring at the empty canoe where Deer Man stood on his thin legs.
The Song was growing louder now, rising and falling. Deer Man began Dancing, his body weaving with the melody. Two Petals sighed, a thrill shooting through her body. She could feel time beginning to drift away, slowing. It was as if she could see the self of her past merging with that of her coming present: two shadowy images slowly slipping into one.
Overhead, a marvelous crow spiraled out of the sun’s light. Brilliant colors of red, blue, yellow, green, and violet reflected from his iridescent feathers. She watched the bird soar in ever-decreasing circles. “Have you come to watch as well?”
“It isn’t every day that a marriage such as this takes place,” Many Colored Crow cried with a laugh.
The women, she noticed, hurried away with their water jars, casting worried glances over their shoulders. The fishermen had stopped, staring wide-eyed. They tossed the rest of their trotline and bait into the canoe and pushed off. Paddles flashed in the sunlight as they left. Within moments, the shoreline was empty.
“They don’t understand,” she told Many Colored Crow.
Whippoorwill walked down the slope past the Traders. They didn’t see the great black Spirit wolf that walked by her side, his yellow eyes gleaming. Two Petals smiled as Whippoorwill came to a stop behind the canoe. The Albaamo woman wore a plain white dress, her dark eyes meeting Two Petals’. Her fingers traced patterns over the wolf’s back. “Once again, we cross in time, Sister.”
Two Petals said, “My friends will need your counsel in the coming years.”
“I will Dance for you . . . always,” Whippoorwill said through the Dream.
Two Petals lowered her gaze to Whippoorwill’s belly. “He will grow up to be a great mikko for your people.”
“He will lead them into the future.” She glanced up the slope. “They come.”
Two Petals followed her gaze. Smoke Shield appeared, the muscles of his legs flexing as he came trotting down the beaten trail. The heavy copper plate shot beams of light this way and that. The Traders above the landing stopped short, gaping. Many rose to their feet as Smoke Shield passed.
Two Petals heard the calls of dismay and let the words pass through her. Time continued to slow, her two selves drifting ever closer.
“Are you prepared, my husband?”
“Yes.” His Song grew, echoed by the river, picked up by the shore and the trees. Deer Man stamped his feet, heedless of the wooden canoe he Danced through.
Two Petals closed her eyes, her souls following Smoke Shield’s approach. At the top of the landing, Trader and Old White hurried into view at the head of a group of chiefs. And behind them, she knew, came a growing crowd.
“They come to witness,” her husband Sang in his melodious voice.
“The offering is almost here.”
“I know.”
Eyes closed, she watched Smoke Shield pant his way toward her. The man’s chest was rising and falling, his eyes agleam with excitement. Oblivious, he stopped at the canoe’s stern, stating, “I brought the copper!”
“Then your choice is made. Come, push us out into the river.”
“To make the offering?”
“I have told you the price.”
He carefully lowered the heavy copper into the canoe before pushing them out into the current. The small craft lurched as he jumped into the stern. Onshore, Deer Man was leaping, bending, his antlers flashing this way and that. Many Colored Crow circled close, his feathers rasping in the air. Her husband’s Song permeated water, wood, and rang from the copper.
“Can you hear it?” she asked.
“Hear what?” Smoke Shield asked.
“The Song. It’s so beautiful.”
“I hear nothing.”
“Oh, you will. In just a moment. I am coming into myself. Time is coming together.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked irritably.
“The future. I will finally know it.”
She opened her eyes, hearing Trader’s voice from shore. He was calling for her, desperate for her safety. Poor Trader. She thought back, remembering his panic the night she had led Old White to his hidden camp. She smiled at the recollection of his interest as he watched her body, and then shared the Dream of their coupling. He had prepared her, taught her the arts she needed to bind Smoke Shield to her.
She smiled across the water at Old White, seeing the desperation in his eyes. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “When you are ready, Seeker, we shall come!”
“What? Two Petals! Stop this nonsense!” He was gesturing frantically for her to return.
Thank you, for all that you have done. She touched her breast as if to imprint the memory of him on her souls.
The Song was almost deafening now, her souls swaying as it filled the air around her.
“It is time.” She laughed in reply to Smoke Shield’s anxious questions. She stood carefully, balancing in the canoe.
“What are you doing?” he cried, hands gripping the gunwales in an effort to stabilize them.
In that one wondrous moment, the world stopped. She felt her past and future become now. Her souls merged. I am whole! I am the One!
She raised her arms, letting the warm sun bathe her. Laughter came bubbling up from within. Around her the world began to swell and recede, pulsing with the Song. She became it.
Her gaze fixed on Old White’s. “Seeker? Time has stopped!”
And then, looking down past the canoe, she could see him. Sunlight shot down into the water, outlining his membranous wings. The colors of the rainbow reflected from his body as it rose beneath the canoe. She hadn’t expected him to be so huge. And there, in the reflection of the sun, she could see his great crystalline eye, glinting up at her from beneath the surface.
“I am ready, my husband.”
Smoke Shield was saying something, his words lost, drowned by the Song.
“Come,” her husband said.
Old White gasped his way to the shore and placed his hand on Trader’s shoulder. Behind them, the chiefs stopped short, staring. Diminutive Night Star rode in Blood Skull’s muscular arms. The warrior lowered her to the ground as they all lined out on the bank. Each was panting from the run, staring in disbelief at Smoke Shield and Two Petals where they floated in the calm waters.
“What are they doing?” Pale Cat asked. “Who is that woman?”
“The Contrary, Two Petals,” Trader said grimly. Then he cupped his hands. “Two Petals? Are you all right?”
Her words carried across the water. “When you are ready, Seeker, we shall come!”
Old White shouted, “What? Two Petals! Stop this nonsense!”
“That copper is ours!” Wooden Cougar bellowed. “Ours, Smoke Shield. Bring it back!”
Old White shook his head. “I think it belongs to Power.”
“I’m taking a canoe,” Trader said. “This has to stop.”
“No.” Old White laid a hand on his arm. “Trust to Power.”
“Seeker you can’t—” Trader stopped short, eyes on the bobbing canoe.
Two Petals rose to her feet, balancing on the slender canoe gunwales. She raised her head to the sunlight, lifting her arms. Then she looked down at the water, seeming to ignore Smoke Shield’s barked questions.
“Two Petals,” Trader cried. “Sit down! You’ll tip over!”
She met his eyes across the water, calling, “Seeker? Time has stopped!”
He drew a breath to call to her, and blinked in disbelief.
In an instant the canoe’s stern sank like a rock, spilling Smoke Shield into the river. The bow rose to point straight up into the sky. Two Petals dove, her hands spearing as her slim body arrowed neatly into the water.
Sunlight flashed on copper, the beam of it almost blinding. Then the boat was sucked down in a swirl.
Smoke Shield screamed, splashing about in the chop, staring this way and that. He bellowed, “No! No! Power is mine!” Then, as he turned toward shore, a terrible shriek tore from his throat. His body lifted on a fountain of foaming water, hung for an instant, and as Smoke Shield uttered one last scream, he was dragged under.
Old White stared in disbelief.
Something sleek rose in a giant ring, water slipping smoothly from its curved surface. Rainbow colors reflected briefly, and then it was gone, waves splashing as they rose and fell.
“Two Petals!” Trader screamed, charging forward and diving into the river.
“Come back!” Old White shouted.
He stood helplessly, heart hammering, aware that the growing crowd behind him was deathly silent. Time had indeed stopped. The only movement was Trader as he stroked furiously toward the still-swirling water. Then he dove.
“Gods, no!” Heron Wing reached for Old White’s hand, her grip crushing his bones.
“What just happened here?” Pale Cat asked.
“I don’t know,” Old White told him. “But the Kala Hi’ki told us a Horned Serpent lives beneath Split Sky City.”
“Horned Serpent!” Blood Skull repeated in awe. Whispers of “Horned Serpent” went from lip to lip as the people stared.
The canoe shot out of the water like a leaping fish, the bow rising high. It seemed to freeze for a moment, hanging. Slowly tilting, it gained speed, and crashed down on its keel. White spray accompanied the loud slap of wood on water. The canoe bobbed there, swamped.
“Gods,” Old White whispered.
He stood transfixed, waiting. Was it an eternity or a matter of heartbeats before Trader’s head popped up, and he flipped water from his face? Trader gasped for breath, searching this way and that. Then he stroked over to the canoe, grasping its gunwale.
“Someone”—Blood Skull turned—“come with me while I paddle out there and bring Green Snake and the canoe back.”
Old White released Heron Wing’s hand as she hurried to find a place in the canoe Seven Dead and Blood Skull launched.
His feet rooted to the shore, Old White shivered, his souls in turmoil. Two Petals could not have held her breath this long. Gods, she is gone!
He turned, grief tugging at the bottom of his heart. As he pushed through the crowd, images of the Contrary filled his souls. He remembered that first moment she’d been carried out like a deer, bound to a pole, her mouth gagged. Again he saw her naked that day in Cahokia, watched her lean forward to blow the souls from Black Tooth’s body. She laughed inside him, enchanting his memory.
“She now Sings with her husband,” a soft Albaamo voice said from the side. “She has found peace and joy.”
He turned to see Whippoorwill, her dark eyes shining. She placed a slim hand on his shoulder, saying, “The Kala Hi’ki saw it all. It is finished—justice is done. He will tell Born-of-Sun.”
“What was that? Horned Serpent?”
She gave him a wistful smile. “What did you see, Seeker?” And then she turned, walking up the slope. Was it his imagination, or did the shadow of a huge wolf accompany her?
Old White sighed. Gods, he was tired.
Glancing back, he saw that Trader had been pulled into Blood Skull’s canoe. They were towing the swamped craft back to shore. Old White watched them land, saw Trader step out to drag Two Petals’ boat onto the sand and tip it so the water ran out. Then Trader froze, frowning. Finally he reached down into the hull. When he straightened, it was to hold two large crystals up to the sun. The light played through them, shooting beams in every direction.
Old White placed a hand over his heart. He’d seen the like before . . . in the Kala Hi’ki’s empty eye sockets.