AT NOON THE NEXT DAY, WIND CAT’S WARRIORS WERE PREPARING to leave. Oretas and ynahaes had been scrambling in and out of the palace; another ten canoes had been procured for the additional warriors Wind Cat was using to swell his depleted ranks.
“Hard to think,” Blood Thorn said, looking around. “Here we are, in the capital of one of the greatest of Nations. Within a half day’s walk there are another six large towns, and then the outlying talwas with all their associated villages.”
“Huh?” I asked, my attention on the palace. It’s hard to concentrate when the person you love is suffering. Coupled with years of experience, I have a very good imagination. Here Blood Thorn and I were, playing chunkey, socializing, eating like high minkos, and Pearl Hand had to be in excruciating pain.
My deepest hope was that my warnings, coupled with the growing uncertainties facing Cofitachequi, were sufficient to keep the old woman from really hurting Pearl Hand. I was betting everything that the old mico was smart enough to balance her best interests and survival against the desire for vengeance. Was she smart enough to—
“Black Shell!” Blood Thorn interrupted my thoughts.
“What?” I blinked, staring at him.
“Did you hear a single word I said? I was talking about how big Telemico is and what a lost opportunity we face.”
“And your point is?”
“Before the Death, Cofitachequi could have fielded ten thousand warriors.” He gestured. “Wind Cat is scrambling just to take eighty south.”
I shot a last glance at the palace, sending brave thoughts Pearl Hand’s way. “The good news is that they won’t be tempted to try to wage a pitched battle.”
“He did listen about the tactics we used at Apalachee.” Blood Thorn hesitated. “What do you think, Black Shell? Will they do it? Burn the granaries and towns? Leave nothing for the monster? Or at the last minute will they hesitate?”
“The Cofitachequi mico has ordered it burned.” I shrugged. “But what the local micos will do? Who knows? Prior to the Death, they’d have swallowed hard and lit the torches. Now, with the central authority so weakened? I’m not so sure.”
The runner came staggering in from the east, appearing at the corner of the plaza. That the man had traveled some distance was readily apparent; he was stumbling, body glistening with sweat, lungs sucking for air.
Wind Cat straightened from where he and a warrior were working on a pack.
All eyes were on the man as he crossed the plaza and collapsed on the palace steps.
Blood Thorn and I ran, grabbed him up, and bore his limp and panting body up the stairs. On the palace veranda, the yatika was just stepping out when I ordered, “Get the mico. This must be important.”
The yatika was gone in a flash of his pretty blue shirt, feet thumping against the matting inside.
“Water?” the runner whispered. Blood Thorn looked around, finding none, then bolted down the stairs to return with a warrior’s bottle gourd. The runner lifted it in shaking hands, gulping it down.
“Enough,” I told him, pulling the gourd back. “Too much, as hot as you are, and you’ll launch it back up the moment the Cofitachequi mico arrives. And what a great impression that would make, yes?”
The man gave me a weak smile. “Long run. All night.”
“What’s happening?” the mico herself demanded as she stepped out, a day dress wrapped around her thin frame. Her hair was up, though not formally pinned.
“Great Sun Ruler,” the man gasped. “I have come from Guiomae talwa at my master’s bidding.”
“You’re Fire Otter’s man, aren’t you?” she asked. “The one who wins him all that wealth in the races?”
“Yes, great Sun Ruler.”
“What news?”
“Fire Otter wishes you to know that White Rose has met with the Kristiano high mico, the man they call Adelantado. She sent her younger sister, the lady Garden, with an escort of ynahaes to ascertain the Kristiano’s intent. And when they returned with a favorable report, she had herself carried across the river. The lady White Rose met with them for most of yesterday afternoon and returned—accompanied by the Kristiano leaders—to Guiomae last night.”
I shot a look at Blood Thorn, hoping he was following the man’s exhaustion-slurred speech, uttered as it was between gasping pants.
“What?” the old mico cried, a stricken expression on her face. “She met with them? In violation of my orders?”
Wind Cat had climbed up in time to hear the report. He looked dumbfounded, stunned.
The runner took a breath and added, “Fire Otter wants you to know that he warned her against this, explicitly stating your orders. But White Rose disregarded his counsel, telling him that she was there, on the spot, while you were away in Telemico. And being there, she was much better suited to determine the Kristiano’s intent.”
I actually had to reach out and stabilize the old woman. She was wavering on her feet, as though about to collapse. Her expression was shocked—as if someone had just reached in through her navel and squeezed her heart.
“And the burning of the town?” she whispered.
“White Rose canceled it. I was there as she ordered half of the local people to move out, offering the vacated houses to those Kristianos whom she had already carried across the river.”
“She is carrying them across?” I asked, reeling at the implications.
The man swallowed hard, nodding. “She ordered Guiomae Mico to obtain every craft he could. They will rope the canoes together, and in so doing have the entire army in Guiomae town by high sun tomorrow.”
“So,” I said, stunned, “de Soto has a town . . . and full granaries.”
“He has informed White Rose that he will eat only what his men need, leaving some for the people. White Rose has his promise.”
“What other bad news do you bear?” Wind Cat asked bitterly. “Has she officially surrendered our warriors?”
“No, Tastanecci, but she has given the Kristianos her word—as a lady of the Sun Clan—that they will not be attacked in our country.”
My head was swimming. Did I get mad, stomp around, and smash things . . . or just break down and weep my despair?
“My master, Fire Otter, is in a panic,” the runner said insistently. “White Rose has done all of these things in the name of the Cofitachequi mico. He told me not to rest until I had informed you.”
“You have done well,” she said, looking physically ill.
“My master will be sending more runners, great Sun Ruler. He will dispatch them secretly when the opportunity arises.” The man was still panting. “And there is one more thing: Last night, just before I was sent, White Rose assured the Kristianos that she was your agent. And her word was binding.”
“My agent? She is no more my agent than she’s a buzzard’s guts. Which will make hanging her in a square that much more pleasurable,” the old woman rasped.
The runner wasn’t finished. “You need to know something else: The great chief of the Kristianos wants to meet with you. He is sending ynahaes to request your presence in Guiomae. They are to escort you to de Soto immediately.”
Wind Cat was cursing, striking emptily at the air around him. Down in the plaza, his warriors were all on their feet, watching with awed gazes.
I took a deep breath, struggling to keep from lashing out myself. “Tastanicce, you and your warriors need to escort the Cofitachequi mico to safety. Someplace—anyplace—beyond the reach of the Kristianos.”
His expression like repressed thunder, he said, “This advance party that’s coming here? I have a mind to kill them all as traitors.”
“It’s not the ynahaes’ fault. The monster will take it out on the people he now has hostage. Perhaps on White Rose herself since she agreed to the mission. Or even poor Garden.”
He nodded, thunder blackening behind his eyes.
“Forget it,” the mico muttered as she stared absently into the distance. “White Rose has given them her word . . . my word of safe passage.” Still looking stunned, she turned her attention to Wind Cat. “Send runners to intercept the ynahaes. Tell them I will not meet with the Kristianos. They are to return bearing that message.”
“Meanwhile, great Mico, you must get away,” I told her gently. “Someplace where they won’t think to search for you.” To Wind Cat I said, “When you intercept the ynahaes, tell them the Cofitachequi mico has left Telemico, that she is on the road. It may buy us some time.”
Wind Cat glanced at his mico. She nodded, broken and disbelieving.
I looked at Blood Thorn. “And you and I, old friend, had better be about packing the dogs. If the Adelantado finds us here, we’ll suddenly have very short and incredibly miserable lives.”
“White Rose?” Blood Thorn asked, shaking his head. “Went over to them?”
I took Wind Cat’s arm. “We won’t be leaving until just before they arrive. If you need advice, help, anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, High Minko.” He seemed genuinely grateful. “It’s just . . . figuring out where we go from here.”
“Keep the Cofitachequi mico safe. Get as many people as you can out of de Soto’s way.”
“Why?” the old woman cried out as she sank to the matting beside the runner. “Why would she do this?”
It was the yatika who spoke, a curious sympathy in his eyes. “She has effectively made herself the Cofitachequi mico, great lady. Knowing there is nothing you can do about it.”
Blood Thorn and I had loaded the packs, seen to feeding the dogs, and gathered our things. I left my cadre of servants—expressions of unease on their faces—squatting in the shade by the dogs. Our personal possessions in order, I led the way back to the palace, leaving the dogs in the shade of our house veranda.
“You ready for this?” I asked. “One way or another, we’re not leaving without Pearl Hand.”
He gave me a curt nod, eyes narrowing.
The plaza was filling, Wind Cat having organized the local people, telling them to fill burden baskets with all the available corn, beans, and squash from the remaining granaries. They were to remove all that they could carry. Where once Telemico and the surrounding towns would have produced ten thousand willing souls, now only six or seven hundred had assembled.
Blood Thorn and I climbed the palace stairs, past boxes, burden baskets, and ceramic jars. Obviously more than could be carried away.
“What’s the plan?” Blood Thorn asked. “Just so I know in advance if I have to kill someone.”
“We do whatever it takes to gain Pearl Hand’s freedom.” I resettled my quiver, a Kristiano sword at my side.
He gave me a humorless grin. “And to think that I’ve told you so many times that I was dead already. Silly me.”
No yatika stopped us at the great double doors. We walked into the main room, now dark with the fires burned low.
As our eyes adjusted, we could see that most of the opulent furnishings had been removed.
So, this is how a Nation dies. Betrayed by a foolish young woman in the pursuit of her own ambition.
The Cofitachequi mico sat in her eagle-backed chair, Wind Cat, the yatika, and several of the oretas clustered around her. We walked up as if we were old friends come for the eulogy.
The discussion was heated: raised voices, lots of arm waving, that sort of thing. For the moment, White Rose’s treachery wasn’t my problem—though it remained a seething burn that had come to live under my heart.
“High Minko Black Shell,” the old woman called, seeing us approach. The room went suddenly silent, her people glaring at each other and then at us.
I walked up, an opening forming as the crowd stepped back. Ritually I dropped to my knee, palms up, then regained my feet. She was still the great mico, after all.
“These brave souls”—she waved absently at the nobles—“have all the sense of a flock of hen turkeys. I’m being told to do everything from welcoming the conqueror—and my idiot niece—on bended knee to attacking Guiomae. You, however, have real experience with this pus-sucking Kristiano. What is your advice . . . just to stir it into the stew, so to speak.”
I looked around, seeing frightened old men, and a few young ones. Only Wind Cat didn’t seem afraid, just incredibly angry.
“There is no need to mince words, great Sun Ruler. Your chance to defeat the monster is lost. With White Rose as an accomplice he will take what he needs and go where he will. From our experience, anyone’s best hope is to avoid capture. That means you foremost, great Mico. And you”—I pointed at the ynahaes and oretas—“second most. He will use you as hostages to ensure compliance from the local people.”
“And then?” one of the elders asked. “When he takes the capital? Demands tribute? What do we do? Keep hiding in the forests?”
“He won’t stay long,” I told them. “Expect him to rest his army, eat your food, and look around. When he finds no gold he will move on. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, perhaps in a month or two.”
I watched the interplay of expressions. Then they all started talking at once.
“Silence!” the old woman shouted, and the room again went quiet. She looked up at me, taking in my clothing, the quiver on my back. “You look as if you are ready to leave.”
“For the moment, great Sun Ruler, we would like to accompany you to whatever place you and Wind Cat have decided. Our presence gives you three more warriors, and while our counsel has not been of much service up to now, perhaps it might in the coming days.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Three more warriors? Do you and the iniha have another hidden somewhere?”
“The iniha, myself . . . and Evening Breeze. The time for your decision has come.”
She kept staring at me, her fingers playing along the arm of her chair. Finally she asked, “Why would she serve me . . . and not try to cut my throat?”
I heard gasps, the shuffling of feet.
“Because she came here to destroy Kristianos.” I lowered my voice, stepping close. “And after your niece’s treachery, you may be short on reliable allies.”
For a long moment, we held each other’s gaze, neither willing to waver. Then she glanced at the sword hanging by my side, noted that Blood Thorn’s quiver was easily in reach and that he’d strung his bow. Her glance at Wind Cat, who was now whispering to an elder, told me all I needed to know. I dropped a casual hand on the sword’s hilt and saw the desperation of defeat when it finally flickered behind her eyes.
“Yatika,” she ordered bitterly, “bring the woman called Evening Breeze.”
He gave me a hooded look, turned on his heel, and strode to one of the rear doors.
“Thank you, great Sun Ruler. We remain your allies in peace. And on our honor, we will serve you to the best of our ability until such time as the Kristianos leave Cofitachequi.”
But she was staring off into space. Her clenched jaws reflected the turmoil in her souls as what was left of her world crumbled around her.
I turned anxious eyes on the door through which the yatika had gone. My heart had begun to pound. The worry I’d sustained over the long days came back like a terrible storm. Had I played this correctly? Was I right that the old woman wouldn’t have harmed her, cut her tendons, tortured the woman I loved?
Every moment that Pearl Hand didn’t materialize added to my building terror.
Pus and blood, what’s taking so long? If she’s maimed or dying, so help me, not a single one of these worms is leaving this room alive.
In my souls, I measured the distance to Wind Cat. I’d have to kill him first. Then the old woman. If Blood Thorn could get to the door, we’d have the rest trapped.
And then the yatika pulled the hanging back, leading Pearl Hand behind him. I felt the first rush of relief. She was walking, her head up. That she was unkempt and wore a simple servant’s dress came as no surprise. Then I noticed that she seemed stiff, pained. Each step was planted as though by will alone, as if she didn’t trust her feet.
Rage—mixed with worry—tied my souls into a knot.
When her eyes met mine, the effect was electric, and it took all of my restraint to keep from rushing to her and crushing her in my arms.
Easy, Black Shell, act the part. I waited, forcing myself to stand like a Chicaza lord instead of the enraged and impetuous love-struck boy I wished to be at that moment.
Pearl Hand’s wrists were bound before her, a rope leading to the yatika’s hands. She kept her eyes locked with mine, defiant, angry.
In Timucua, I said, “Should I just kill them?”
“Not yet,” she answered tightly. “What’s happening here?”
I felt a rush of relief. She was thinking with her usual clarity. “Play the game with me, wife. We’re not out of this yet.”
She gave a slight nod, eyes narrowing. Then she shot the old woman a look of venomous hatred.
I asked the yatika, “Would you please release her?”
His questioning look went to the mico, who nodded absently, her gaze still fixed on a far and unseen horizon.
The yatika handed me the rope. With care, I slid the Kristiano sword from its sheath, aware that the surrounding ynahaes stepped back, Wind Cat tensing.
As I severed the tight leather laces binding Pearl Hand’s wrists, I said wryly, “Please, my love, no matter what they’ve done, don’t precipitate anything rash.”
“Took you long enough,” she muttered darkly, plucking the last of the bindings from her bruised and scabbed wrists. Then she gave me a dark and haunted look that shook me down to the bones.
In Timucua, I replied, “Things have been complicated since I became a high minko, but I thought your release would be accomplished better by being smart rather than dumb.”
“Of course,” she answered, and, head lowered in a feral manner, gave the oblivious old woman another menacing look.
Slipping the sword back into its scabbard, I turned my attention to Wind Cat, saying, “No matter what the others say, you must get the Cofitachequi mico out of Telemico. The Kristianos will have made her capture a priority.”
Wind Cat exhaled his tension. “I agree.”
Seeing that the old woman was lost to misery, her expression vacant, he took charge, saying, “These are the tastanicce’s orders: Be ready to leave within a hand’s time for Yca talwa.” He pointed. “Yatika, a deception is called for. I want the following message to be delivered to Fire Otter. Tell him that because the Kristianos are headed to Telemico we are taking the Cofitachequi mico downriver. Tell him we are bypassing Guiomae at night, using the Pasque trail. Tell the runner that after he has delivered his message to Otter, he is to seek out White Rose, tell her the same thing, and that he now accepts her as the great Sun Ruler. Can you find a man to do this?”
The yatika nodded. “I have such a man. It will be as you order, Tastanicce.”
Wind Cat looked at the rest of us. “No one in this room is to mention that we are really headed north to Yca town. We leave Telemico within a hand’s time. Any who do not accompany us are on their own. May Power help you.”
I stepped close to Pearl Hand. “Come on. We’ve a hand’s time. Let’s get you out of here.”
She shot one last look at the broken woman slumped in her chair. “The sooner, the better.”
“Can you walk?” I asked in Timucua.
“It hurts . . . but no matter what it costs, they’ll never see it.” She took the lead, heading for the door, head up, looking proud. But I could see she was in agony with each stiff-legged step.
It wasn’t until we were outside that she folded. Blood Thorn and I caught her as her legs gave out. In the sunlight I got a good look at the bruises, my gut twisting. Then, together, we carried her down the stairs.
I hoped no one noticed the tears of frustrated rage that beaded at the corners of my eyes.