BACK IN OUR HOUSE, BLOOD THORN AND I LOWERED PEARL HAND onto one of the benches. The dogs clambered all over her, licking, barking their joy, tails lashing. I ordered water and food. The servants took off like frightened chipmunks.
“Dogs! Down!” I said, terrified that they might hurt Pearl Hand even more.
“No! Please. I’ve prayed for this.” And—tears streaking down her cheeks—she tried to wrap all four of them into her arms at once. Her smile was a thing of beauty.
I let it go on until it was apparent the dogs were getting out of hand, their excitement becoming reckless. I ordered them back, made them lie down, and dropped to my knees, taking her hands in mine. The sight of her bruised arms and legs, cut lip, and swollen cheekbones, the filth-matted hair and bloody wrists, stabbed like a thorn through my heart.
“I love you so much,” I said softly, staring into her eyes. “I was worried sick.”
She whispered hoarsely, “Worried? You have no idea. Blood and muck, that woman hates me.”
Blood Thorn stood behind us, arms crossed. “As much as she hates you, she’s smart enough to know that keeping you alive outweighed any delight she’d have felt killing you.”
“What did they do to you?” I asked, afraid to hear it.
“When they took me, I thought I was headed straight to a square, or perhaps a beheading. But she kept me in her quarters, on my knees, my wrists tied to my ankles behind me. Until you’ve experienced it, you can’t imagine the pain. And then the beatings.” She shook her head. “I cried . . . I begged her to just kill me. She told me she’d have enjoyed that, but she had other uses planned for me.”
I interrupted to say, “Blood Thorn and I made it plain to her that your death would ill serve her chances of surviving the Kristianos.”
“Next time, just let me die. Someday I might actually get around to thanking you.” Her attempt to smile failed. “Maybe.”
“We were worried she’d mutilated you,” Blood Thorn added. “It would have complicated our chances for survival after we bashed her head in.”
“So,” Pearl Hand asked as pots of water and food were borne in by the servants, “when do we get out of here? Where are we headed? Where is de Soto?”
“We’ll leave with the old woman and Wind Cat,” I said. “And, no matter what, Blood Thorn and I need your help.”
She gave me a cold glare.
“You expect me to travel with her? After what she’s done?”
I took a deep breath. “Here’s the situation . . .” I outlined the plans we’d originally made, finishing with White Rose’s treachery.
Pearl Hand closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “White Rose . . . always the calculating little swamp witch. So that’s what happened . . . the reason the beatings stopped.”
“Come on. Water’s here. Let’s get you cleaned up and into some decent clothes.”
I helped her undress and winced at the discovery of additional welts and bruises. Using a damp cloth, I carefully sponged the days-old sweat from her body while Blood Thorn sat to one side, a beautifully carved trencher in his lap, spooning food to her by the bite.
Pearl Hand winced when I hit sore spots and told me between bites of roasted turkey, “She never hit me hard enough to break anything, just enough to add to the agony.”
“Dear wife, you have to make a decision: Do we stay, continue to advise Wind Cat on how to hurt de Soto? Or do we consider Cofitachequi a lost cause, take to the forest, and see if we can beat him to the next place?”
The tension around her eyes increased. Whom did she hate more? The Kristianos, or the mico?
She fingered her stringy and matted hair, wincing at the pain of raising her arm. “I’ll think better when my hair’s clean. And, Black Shell, for the moment, I’m not going far in any direction. You should have heard me whimper when the yatika pulled me to my feet. As it was, he had to support me until my legs would hold. And the agony of having my limbs straightened? I thought I’d faint.”
“You’ll ride in a noble’s chair,” I added. “Borne by porters.”
She arched her eyebrow, hinting at the old Pearl Hand.
“Hey, you made me a high minko. Remember?”
A flicker of a smile died. “And the sick-souled old bitch would see me riding along behind her, wouldn’t she?”
Blood Thorn added, “You’d be referred to as Nicoquadca Evening Breeze.”
“Nicoquadca?”
“They rotted well know what it means.” Blood Thorn scraped the horn spoon full again. “And that broken old mico would hear it over and over.”
I couldn’t help but add, “Provided you don’t bow to your richly deserved vengeance and smack her in the skull.”
“Which would, of course, get us all killed,” Blood Thorn said solicitously.
“It would require a certain restraint on your part.”
She should have given me a look that would have roasted smilax bread. Instead her eyes appeared oddly blank.
Blood Thorn and I helped her wash her hair, then we fawned over the combing of her long locks, got her dressed in her trail clothes, and fed her the last of the turkey.
A horn sounded, the signal that time was up. “We going or staying?” I asked.
She stared dully at the floor. “All those years ago when I was here? I never got to ride in a litter. Will I have a sunshade as well?”
“Would you like one?”
“I would.”
“Blood Thorn,” I cried. “Call the servants; find a sunshade. The nicoquadca is ready to travel.”
And I was dancing down in my souls. Pearl Hand was back. Subdued, sore, and nursing the Piasa’s own rage, but back nevertheless.
Pearl Hand—riding in the litter and bedecked with jewelry—looked majestic. Two servants walking behind held her sunshade on long poles that were braced just so against the back of her chair. The dogs, their packs carried by porters, were delighted to be on the trail again. I had the rest of my household lined up in the rear as we took our place behind the mico in her litter. I could see Pearl Hand’s squinted appraisal of her former captor.
“What do you think?” Blood Thorn asked, standing beside me in the sun. “Will Pearl Hand snap and break the old lady’s head or not?”
“I’m betting not. You?”
“Not. She’s going to enjoy ‘putting on airs’ too much.”
I laughed softly, hiding my worry at the darkness behind my wife’s eyes.
Wind Cat’s warriors did an exemplary job of getting the whole procession started, and in a long line we snaked our way around dwellings, winced at the overpowering stench from the charnel houses, and headed out on the northern trail that would lead us to Yca talwa, a day’s march to the north-northwest.
Yca was a good choice, allowing communications with Guiomae to the southeast and Telemico to the south, and it had a network of well-traveled trails leading off in whatever direction would ensure safe evacuation should the Kristianos come prowling.
At the forest edge, I stepped out, taking one last look back at Telemico, its shell-covered temple rising above the abandoned capital.
Here, a great Nation had once ruled from the mountains clear down to the ocean. Only two years past, Cofitachequi had been the equal of any Nation, including the Coosa, the Tuskaloosa, and the Natchez. How could such a mighty people collapse so quickly?
Looking back from where I stood, I saw the corpse of a city—one that would never see her glory returned. What the Death had begun, de Soto would complete.
White Rose, so desperate to rebuild Cofitachequi’s strength and authority, had made her bargain with its ultimate destruction. Poor deluded fool; I wondered if she’d live long enough to appreciate the enormity of her mistake.
Or what her blind ambition would ultimately cost not only Cofitachequi, but all the other thousands who would suffer for it in other Nations.
“Thinking of something?” Blood Thorn asked as I rejoined the march.
“White Rose. And why I didn’t reach out and strangle her to death that night.”
He made a throwing-away gesture. “People insist on sowing the seeds of their own destruction. Makes you wonder, though: What are our real chances of finally winning this thing?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“White Rose won’t be the last.” His expression was somber. “You and I, we know the stakes. How do we save our world when someone like White Rose—seeing an advantage by allying with the Kristianos—will throw it away for selfish gain?”
I grunted, remembering the promise in her eyes that night. Had I accepted, offered to marry her, help her rebuild Cofitachequi, and accompanied her south, could I have changed the outcome? Would Wind Cat’s warriors even now be harrying de Soto’s starving soldados through the burned ruins of Guiomae?
So who had been the real blind fool here? White Rose, or me?
At Yca talwa, a town of about five hundred souls, we were given a house; the Cofitachequi mico had the occupancy of the mico’s palace. We settled in while the servants saw to the task of preparing the meal.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Pearl Hand. She had begun to limp around unassisted, slow and sore.
“I’ll be myself in a couple of days,” she said insistently while she fussed over her crossbow. But her fingers were shaking and she avoided my eyes when she asked, “So, how does it feel to be a high minko?”
“Making me a high minko probably saved your life. But could we have a little more warning next time we come to a place where you’ve worn out your welcome?”
She ran her trembling fingers down the polished wood of her weapon. “I didn’t think I’d be recognized.” She blinked, as if against tears. “I was so young back then . . . a girl when I was given to the great mico.”
“I’ve heard the old woman’s side of the story. What’s yours?”
She swallowed hard. “I went to his bed a virgin. After that first time he told me in no uncertain terms that as long as I pleased him, I would benefit. He would teach me the things I needed to know.”
She paused. “I . . . I dedicated myself to the task. Experimenting, trying this or that. He’d lost interest in his wives, and I was new and exciting, unhampered by the restraints of a ‘woman of virtue.’ Every time I left him gasping and begging for more, I was appropriately rewarded, got to travel with him, was showered with gifts.”
“And the old woman’s son?”
She shrugged, the crossbow forgotten in her hands. “The mico was an older man; I had to use every trick to keep his interest, make his body perform. Then, here was this vigorous youth, a little older than me. I could talk to him, laugh with him. He looked at me as if he saw something more than just a talented sheath.” She gave me a plaintive look. “Just to be recognized as another human being can have the most profound consequences . . . and fire foolish hopes.”
“And the boy had desires of his own,” I guessed.
“I was exotic, forbidden. That kindles its own passion. I was already a master. I played his body for everything it had.” Her eyebrow arched higher. “After that first tryst we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
“Until the mico found out.”
She made a face. “Any illusions I might have had about life . . . they died the night he locked me into that room with his warriors. What was left of me was to be hung on a square the next day. And when the end came, my sweet young lover was to have the responsibility of cutting my heart out.”
“I heard he wasn’t quite up to the honor.”
“He came for me in the middle of the night. We ran. But nothing was quite right after that.” Her expression turned sad. “What did I know? Any time I’d been with a man, it had been about pleasure. What the warriors did to me? It was like seeing the world for what it really is. I tried to go back, be like I was before that night. But I . . . I just couldn’t recapture the bliss. And he knew it . . . along with the price he’d paid to save me. We ended up among the Guale.”
“I heard he died there.”
She stared absently into the past. “Not until after he paid me back for the unhappiness in his life. After extolling my abilities, he gave me to the Guale chief. Payment for protection.”
“So you killed him?”
A wistful smile bent her cut lip. “I never saw him again. I was locked up, my life depending on how well I pleased the chief. And believe me, after having a knife put to my neck, I found untold motivation. But the Death had broken out among the people who had survived Ayllόn. So many died: my lover, the Guale chief . . . I just walked out of the palace one day.”
“Your version makes more sense than the mico’s.”
She shrugged uncomfortably.
“There has never been another woman like you,” I told her. “That’s why Power placed us together.”
“Makes you terribly skeptical of Power, doesn’t it?”
“Never.”
“Then I sincerely hope you’re not planning on making a living as a trader. You obviously don’t have a knack for it.”
At her acid tone, I leaned close, asking, “Are you all right?”
With pained eyes, she shot me a look, whispering, “I don’t know, husband. What she did to me . . .”
“Pearl Hand, talk to me.”
She shook her head bitterly. “When I’m ready. Maybe. For now, leave me alone.”
“But I—”
“Please?”
That’s when the yatika stuck his head in. “The Cofitachequi mico requests the high minko’s presence.”
I stood. “Formal? Or war council?”
“We are no longer in Telemico, but a certain level of respect would be appropriate.”
“Thank you, Yatika. We will be there as soon as we can dress.”
After he left, I glanced meaningfully at Blood Thorn, then said to Pearl Hand, “You rest, we’ll give you a complete—”
“I’m going.” She ground her jaws, her gaze dropping as she tightened her grip on the crossbow. “Do you understand? I have to.”
“Can you walk, or do you need the chair?”
She made a face as she pulled herself to her feet. “If I’m a nicoquadca, I’ll walk. Anything left in the packs for me to wear?”
“We’re overstocked in jewelry. Cofitachequi ynahaes, it turns out, really can’t play chunkey.”
“So,” she murmured. “I’m tied up like a sacrificial turkey . . . and you’re gambling on chunkey?”
When we arrived, the palace was packed; we fit ourselves in at the edges, happy to be out of the center of attention. I kept shooting glances at Pearl Hand, prickling with unease. Whatever the old woman had done to her, Pearl Hand wouldn’t say. I was faced with the odd new fact that I had no idea what my wife was about to do or if she would get us killed in the process.
To make matters worse, Wind Cat had us dragged up front and center. Pearl Hand stood so erect she might have been made of wood. Face-to-face with her captor again, I flinched at the strain in her brittle expression.
In the name of Power, wife, don’t do anything foolish.
Why didn’t I insist she stay with the dogs?
The old woman gave Pearl Hand a disdainful look, then said, “All right. Here’s what we know: White Rose has told the Kristianos about the seven big granaries at Ylasi talwa off to our north. She’s given them to the invader. Even as we speak a large part of his army is headed there.”
Groans filled the room.
The Yca mico—a young man obviously elevated to the position because of the Death—cried, “We should march on Ylasi, great Sun Ruler, fortify it, and deprive the invader.”
“We cannot,” the old mico told him, acid in her voice. “My niece has granted them safe passage in my name. You know the protocol. I cannot revoke their safe passage without a loss of honor. I could overrule her, of course, but doing so means dividing our people right down the middle, asking them to declare an allegiance to her or me.”
“We serve you,” the young mico declared vehemently. “She has betrayed all of Cofitachequi.”
“You will remain quiet.” The way she said it, I thought the young man was going to swallow his tongue.
The Raccoon Clan oreta asked, “Hasn’t she already declared herself to be the Sun Ruler?”
“Not that I’ve heard. And until she does so, I’m assuming she’s smart enough not to create such a division. It would mean civil war, my supporters against hers. And while I believe she sees my tenure in the mico’s chair as limited, ineffective, and irrelevant, she won’t push the issue.”
Wind Cat asked, “What if we just provided a demonstration? Massed warriors before the town?”
Blood Thorn answered, “The Kristianos would take it as an invitation for combat. They’ve seen exactly such displays at Tapolaholata, Ahocalaquen, Napetuca, Anhaica, and too many other places. Each ended in a massacre with hundreds dead.”
Wind Cat didn’t like it, but he nodded acceptance.
The old mico—glaring venom at Pearl Hand—said, “And the moment fighting starts, both of my nieces, Fire Otter, the ynahaes, and the micos will be made captive.”
“White Rose made her choice,” one of the ynahaes called from the rear.
“My nieces are Sun Clan. Provided we can find a way to survive this without a bloodbath, one of them will eventually ascend the elevated chair. Do you understand?”
At her tone, the man swallowed dryly, nodding, and dropped to one knee, his palms up, head down. The old mico left him that way.
I smiled grimly.
She sighed, rubbed her nose, and said, “Not all is against us. We have heard that Otter is heading south with a capitán, Añasco, and his soldados to capture me. White Rose has either fallen for the ruse, or—coming to realize that she has made an alliance with a black sorcerer—is complicit. This means, for the moment, we are safe in Yca.”
“No movement toward Telemico?” I asked.
“Not yet.” She gave me a cold glance. “Advice, High Minko?”
I gave her a nod. “Racing the Kristianos for Ylasi with warriors is out of the question. But ordering the immediate evacuation of its people is another thing.”
“And that gains us?” she asked warily.
Pearl Hand, fists knotted, hesitantly said, “White Rose gave them the food stores . . . but she didn’t give them the means of carrying it away. After gold and food, the monster wants slave porters. If the people are gone, the only food de Soto’s men can carry is what’s packed on their backs or cabayos.”
“Finally,” the old woman whispered, “we begin to understand why the high minko values Evening Breeze. She has an imprecise ability to state the obvious.”
Her response was cruel. Pearl Hand had answered her question. I stiffened, about to object, when Blood Thorn laid a restraining hand on my arm.
Pearl Hand’s expression turned brittle, and her eyes slitted, as if to mask any expression. The old mico, however, looked as if she could chew Kristiano hierro.
The old woman ground her jaws and asked, “So he’s got the food? Why do we care if he carries it away?”
Pearl Hand swallowed hard, a shiver running down her back. Anger? Or fear? “Because it leaves his forces split, without unified command. And the longer the invader is separated from half of his army, the more uncomfortable he will get. The trick to beating Kristianos is to keep them off balance, fragmented, with the possibility of dissent in the ranks.”
The old woman snorted with disdain. Pearl Hand went stiff. Nevertheless, the old mico said, “Tastanecci, send a runner immediately. My order is that Ylasi be evacuated. Send just enough warriors to ensure that I’m obeyed and that the people are scattered throughout the forest. And then have the warriors out of there before the invader arrives.”
“Yes, Cofitachequi Mico.”
It was a small victory—barely an inconvenience for the Kristianos—but a major one for Pearl Hand. She took a deep breath, the corners of her mouth quivering from the strain.
Wife? Are you going to be all right?
Later, as we stepped out of the palace, I reached over to take Pearl Hand’s arm, only to have her shake it off with the warning, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But I was only—”
“Don’t, Black Shell. Just . . . just leave me alone.”
I stopped short, stung to the heart, and watched as she hobbled painfully across the dark plaza toward our house.
“Give her time.” Blood Thorn paused beside me. “She’s fighting a battle inside herself.”
“And if she loses?”
He gave a slight shrug of the shoulders. “Nothing is forever, Black Shell. None of us are ever as strong as we lead ourselves to believe.”
When I finally entered the house, it was to find that Pearl Hand had moved her bedding to a bench across the room. She was already in the blankets, her head covered. From the way the blanket was quivering, I knew she was sobbing.
That night I was awakened by odd mewing sounds. I sat up in the darkness to see Bark, too, was awake. He stood by Pearl Hand’s bed, his head cocked, ears pricked.
I was about to yell at him when I realized he wasn’t the source of the suffering sounds. Like me he was fixed on Pearl Hand’s sleeping form and I realized the muted screams and whimperings had their origins in her dreams.
Before I could call Bark back, he reached up and pawed at her. His touch was enough that she shifted, turned onto her side, and dropped back to a peaceful sleep.