WE WAITED FOR FOUR DAYS. MOST OF THE TIME WAS SPENT WORKING with the dogs, patiently introducing Blackie and Patches to the pack, addressing canine jealousies and insecurities. Dogs are as narrow-minded, socially obsessed, and incomprehensible as people.
A light drizzle was falling when a man came trotting out from the Coosa gate, splashing his way over to where we had just finished repairing the roof on Two Packs’s ramada. A small fire smoked beneath its shelter.
“Tishu Mikko,” I said, greeting him as I recognized that tattooed visage, grizzled hair, and muscular walk. A cardinal-feathered cape hung from his shoulders. Water beaded on his copper ear spools.
“Chicaza,” the Red Chief answered, a thin smile on his lips. Droplets of water streaked down his tattooed face as he stepped in out of the rain. “Well, you’ve caused quite a stir.”
“Have a seat. Dry off. May we offer you anything?”
He settled beside Blood Thorn, giving the Timucua a slight nod. Then, as I seated myself beside Pearl Hand, he gave me a thoughtful stare, as though trying to see the very quality of my souls.
“Has the High Sun come to a decision?” I asked casually.
“He has.” The man fingered the laces on his moccasins. “Coosa is a complicated place. Certain balances need to be maintained, and the High Sun’s position is never secure.”
We waited.
“The mikkos were right. Had we taken the steps you suggested—evacuate the towns, disperse the people, burn the granaries, send the warriors off in small parties to ambush the trails—it would have ended in disaster.”
I gestured for patience as Pearl Hand was about to speak.
The tishu mikko continued. “But not in the way you would think. Rather—assuming the invader could be destroyed—some of the more rebellious mikkos, as well as certain factions of the Wind Clan, would see it as an opportunity.”
“Perhaps even leading to the overthrow of the High Sun,” I replied, seeing where this was going.
The tishu mikko nodded. “We might indeed be able to defeat the invader through the means you suggest. But doing so would tear this Nation into pieces. Mikkos would seek to settle old scores with neighbors; other elements would act to raise themselves and their lineages to the high chair.” He smiled wearily. “What good would it do to win the war against the Kristianos, only to lose everything else in the end?”
“It may end that way anyway,” I answered softly, hating the poisonous politics. “The monster might see to it himself. Especially if he decides to stay in Coosa, make it his capital. I told you, he has ships down on the coast. And nothing he’s seen in other Nations will compare to Coosa.”
The tishu mikko nodded as he continued to finger his laces. “I have served two High Suns during my life. The first was a fool. This High Sun is a remarkably smart man. There’s a reason tribute is paid to us from as far away as Chiaha. And lest you think he doesn’t understand the risk—given what you told him, and what the messengers have relayed—he knows perfectly well what will happen when the Kristianos arrive here.”
Pearl Hand interjected, “Then you must get him out of Coosa. The monster will take him captive. And once surrounded by the soldados and cabayeros, there is nothing you can do to save him.”
The tishu mikko gave her a faint smile. “Your concern for Coosa and the High Sun is appreciated, lady. The High Sun, however, believes that he can best serve his people by meeting the Kristianos in peace and acceding to their demands.”
I patted Pearl Hand’s knee. “Then we have no further purpose here.”
“That’s what I have come to talk to you about. The invader is on his way. While there have been no repetitions of the events in Coste, we are not fools. Your warnings have been heard, Chicaza. And so far, the invader is doing just as you said he would . . . insisting the mikkos accompany him as ‘guests.’”
I cried, “The High Sun is not just some local mikko!”
“Get him out of here,” Pearl Hand growled.
“And allow some lesser but more ambitious mikko to gain status?” The tishu mikko raised an eyebrow.
“Then, what do you see us doing?” I asked.
He glanced around and lowered his voice. “What would happen if a message were to be delivered to Tuskaloosa? Perhaps one that offered an alliance against the Kristianos should things not go well in Coosa?”
I shot a look at Pearl Hand, seeing her indecision, then said, “Tuskaloosa is a charismatic and very competent leader. His acceptance would depend on a great many things. How much of an alliance are you talking about?”
“As many of our warriors as I dare strip from the outlying towns.” He paused. “And the High Sun’s niece in marriage.”
“That, I’d say, will get his attention.” I shot him a look. “You wish to fight here, in Coosa?”
“We’d prefer someplace between our territories. Perhaps in the thickly wooded hill country around Talisi.”
I nodded, my heart sinking. I began to understand the High Sun’s strategy. “And who would command the Coosa forces?”
“As tastanaki, I would. Assuming, of course, that the Tuskaloosa will accept me and my warriors under the White Arrow.”
“The right place for a combined attack would have to be chosen very carefully,” Pearl Hand said thoughtfully. “Someplace where the Kristianos would be disorganized, unable to use their cabayeros.”
“The Tuskaloosa mikko would know that better than I.”
I smiled wistfully at that, a sense of loss sucking at my gut. “An admirable solution. Brilliantly thought-out.” And it took the fighting, the political liabilities, right out of Coosa and made them Tuskaloosa’s. Not only that, if the attack went badly, the Kristianos would take their rage out on the Tuskaloosa.
“What do you think?” The Red Chief glanced at each of us.
I hid my disappointment. “A combined force of warriors, in the right ambush, would stagger the monster. And Power would favor the fact that two of the greatest Nations unified to accomplish the task.”
“Assuming Tuskaloosa agrees,” the tishu mikko added.
I considered the ramifications. “The High Sun . . . If he stays, you do understand he will be made a captive, his life forfeit when the fighting starts.”
Blood Thorn whispered, “Your leader will lose everything in the end.”
“He knows the risks but has no choice.” The Red Chief turned grim. “Are you interested?”
The Coosa Sun was throwing together all the ingredients for a disaster—a series of half measures, compromises, and desperate gambles. I was on the verge of saying no when Pearl Hand reached out, squeezed my knee, and said, “We shall do everything in our ability to serve the High Sun in this task.”
What? I shot her a look of incredulity.
Pearl Hand flashed me a warning look.
The tishu mikko smiled. “If we’re to be partners, perhaps you might call me by my family name. I am just Tastanaki to my friends.” That he had taken the title as his name was indicative of the authority and respect with which he was regarded.
“Tell the Coosa mikko that we will do our best, Tastanaki,” I said, wondering why Pearl Hand had committed us to such folly.
For good measure, Tastanaki feasted us that night. We ate deep-pit-roasted elk, smoked turkey, smilax bread seasoned with juniper and bee weed, nut-bread patties, and blackberry cakes. We drank copious amounts of tea, smoked excellent tobacco, and I played Tastanaki two games of chunkey on the High Sun’s court. I won the first by a single point, the second by two. Tastanaki, it turned out, was a very good player. Blood Thorn, as a novice, lost miserably and declined further humiliation.
By the time we walked out of the main gates, night had fallen, the heavens a sooty black flecked with stars. Patches of cloud made patterns of deeper black across the dome of the sky.
Fortunately enough fires were burning that we could pick our way among the buildings and make out the faint pale path that led to the river.
I took Pearl Hand’s hand in mine, saying, “We need to talk.”
Blood Thorn, catching the undertones, gestured his understanding.
I veered to the left, taking the wide path that led down past the clan houses and several tall granaries. Ahead the river was illuminated by hickory-oil torches atop tall segments of cane that projected over the water. Beneath them young men worked to ply nets, catching fish attracted to the light.
The entire affair was carefully orchestrated, the nets stretched out on canoes and gently lowered into the water. Then willing hands carefully pulled them in, dragging the catch onto shore. Once the nets were emptied, they were folded and loaded onto the canoes, and the entire process was repeated.
“Coosa is doomed,” Pearl Hand said as we seated ourselves on the hull of an overturned canoe.
“I know. So why did you volunteer us for this nonsensical mission to Tuskaloosa?”
She rubbed the back of my hand with her thumb, shook her long hair back, and stared up at the inky sky. “Because the defeated have to go somewhere.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Here’s the thing: De Soto might stay in Coosa. Eventually he’s going to figure out that there’s no gold here. Coosa is the biggest, grandest Nation of them all. Sure, the Tuskaloosa, the Natchez, the Chicaza, all need to be reckoned with, but Coosa would provide de Soto with everything he and his men need.”
“Except gold.”
“Like I said, eventually he’s going to figure that out, Black Shell. But even if he doesn’t, Coosa is doomed.”
“If there was just some way to make them understand that these half measures . . .” I gestured my frustration.
“There isn’t, so don’t waste your time trying to find one. Even if the High Sun believed us, he couldn’t order his people to evacuate, burn the food, and attack de Soto. Two-thirds of his northern mikkos would flock to the Kristianos, offering alliances in return for a chance at assuming the high chair. The fact is that Coosa is like a lump of mud. As soon as it gets wet it’s going to disintegrate.”
“Well, if the High Sun thinks he’s got problems with his mikkos, wait until the Adelantado moves into his palace. The man’s smart like Tastanaki said, but de Soto brings a whole new kind of politics backed by the sword. Plot as he might, the High Sun is going to do everything de Soto tells him to.”
“No question about it. And that’s why we need to ensure that Tuskaloosa makes this alliance. Don’t you see? If we can make it happen, the disaffected from Coosa have a place to go. From Tuskaloosa they can carry the fight back to Coosa. We can resume the kind of warfare that worked so successfully at Apalachee.”
“Assuming Tuskaloosa agrees,” I muttered. “He might waffle with the same finesse as the High Sun.” I shook my head. “I don’t know, wife. Sometimes I wonder if any of our people are smart enough to even understand the threat, let alone make the commitment to destroy it.”
The day de Soto finally arrived with his Kristianos, we watched the High Sun’s party emerge from Coosa. The spectacle was stunning, with hundreds of brightly dressed nobles, all spouting the finest of feathers, gleaming shell, and reflective copper. Like a great serpent they flowed out from the buildings surrounding the city. Above them all rode the High Sun, carried on his lofty litter. More than three hundred people composed the procession; another couple thousand commoners were watching from the surrounding fields, granaries, and rooftops.
The melodic sound of flute music and singing coupled with the rhythmic rumble of drums carried on the air. Around the peripheries, people danced gaily, unaware of the true nature of the venomous creature they were admitting to their capital.
De Soto’s army emerged from the eastern trail, the Adelantado himself riding at the forefront of his cabayeros. Their armor was mostly polished, and they formed ranks immediately after emerging from the trees to present a wide front, perhaps eighty animals.
It suddenly struck home: Of the more than three hundred war cabayos that landed at Uzita, only eighty remained combat-ready for the vanguard? We were winning! Then came the soldados, forming their ranks behind the cabayeros. They marched out with precision, the clanking of metal carrying across the distance.
“So that is the great threat?” Tastanaki asked softly. “They do look impressive, but we outnumber them by the thousands.”
Pearl Hand pointed a slim finger. “In an open field like this the massed cabayeros would slash your largest formations like giant arrows through a stand of cane. With your warriors milling in confusion, the soldados would smash into them, cutting, hacking, and shooting.”
The war chief nodded. “I begin to understand.”
“Good,” I murmured. “Now, let’s get in the canoes and be on our way.”
“As tishu mikko I should be back there,” Tastanaki said insistently. “Beside the High Sun. Just in case anything goes wrong.”
“You will do better to convince Tuskaloosa to join forces,” Blood Thorn replied doggedly. “You said your High Sun is a smart man? If so, why is he marching out to offer his empire to the monster without a fight?”
Pearl Hand and I glanced at each other, hearing the despair in Blood Thorn’s words.
“Come on,” I added. “Last time, Antonio almost caught us. And if he does this time, we could be the spark that sets off a disaster.”
We turned to the canoes, sixteen of them, with warriors to man the paddles. Our packs had been stowed, along with the Cofitachequi boxes, upon which the dogs perched, tails wagging with anticipation. Two large trade canoes were filled with Coosa’s gifts for Tuskaloosa. And an ornate litter had been packed for Tishu Mikko Tastanaki so appearances could be maintained for his meeting with Tuskaloosa.
Two Packs watched from the side, his curiosity about the Kristianos warring with his desire to see us off.
I clapped him on his thick shoulders. “Be well, my friend. And thank you for everything.”
He grinned. “If nothing else, you did a splendid job repairing my ramada.”
“Whatever happens, don’t be around when the Kristianos need porters. According to plan, the monster will order the High Sun to supply people. When he does, you—and your family—must be far, far away.”
He nodded. “I understand. But I want to at least see them up close.”
I remembered when I, too, had been so consumed. I pointed to the scars on my neck. “See them quickly, today, and be long gone by tomorrow.”
“I need no scars of my own.” He clapped me on the back, the impact of his mighty hands rocking me on my feet. “Who knows, I might see you in Tuskaloosa.”
“Don’t. There will be war and death there.”
I clambered aboard as warriors pushed us into the current and promptly had a time with Blackie and Patches. They weren’t used to canoes, and we wobbled until I managed to cow them into lying down on the packs and staying still.
One by one the rest of our flotilla launched, and as I looked back, it was to see de Soto riding forth with a man I took to be Ortiz, his translators in tow.
High Sun, it’s already too late to save yourself.
We made good time, passing the towns along the Coosahachi River, making its confluence with the Coosa by late afternoon. The warriors—each hand-chosen for the task—plied their paddles with vigor, driving us onward.
Across from us, Tastanaki rode in a long war canoe with the sacred bundle containing the Coosa White Arrow across his lap.
We were gambling, but with how many lives? And while the High Sun was a smart man, he had doomed himself. Would Tuskaloosa prove any wiser? Coosa had been a near thing for us. But for the words of a blind hilishaya, we might have been hanging on squares, dying of torture as Antonio and his poisonous lord entered Coosa.
Our journey carried us downriver for eleven days; we stopped each night at a town, village, or farmstead where the locals immediately bowed to Tastanaki’s orders and provided food, lodging, and provisions for the next day.
Where the river entered the narrows, Tastanaki ordered locals to help portage both canoes and packs for the four-day journey downstream to safer waters. As tishu mikko, he was borne in his litter.
Walking along, I couldn’t help but notice Blood Thorn’s worried expression. Matching his pace, I asked, “Something wrong?”
He glanced at me, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “We’re losing, Black Shell. Not only is the Adelantado better than we are at war, he’s also smarter.”
“I don’t think so. It’s just that—”
“Forget it, old friend. The Hichiti met him in friendship. That I could understand, after a fashion. They’ve been our enemies for years. Then, even with the Death, the Cofitachequi could have crippled de Soto’s mighty army. Instead, for her own purposes, White Rose surrendered even the bones of her ancestors to him.”
I was silent as Blood Thorn continued. “And then we travel to mighty Coosa. And what is the result? The High Sun—descended of a god, no less—hasn’t the balls to fight. Oh, no. Taking the battle to the invader might offend some of his mikkos, or maybe lose him the high chair.”
Blood Thorn shook his head. “So, old friend, what am I to think? The greatest mikko in our world thinks he can play it safe and pass the problem along to this Tuskaloosa. Why? Because he wants an easy way out. One without risk to himself or his fragile empire.”
“Blood Thorn, I know it hasn’t gone the way we thought—”
He cut me off with a chop of his calloused hand. “It’s not your fault, Black Shell. Nor do I blame Horned Serpent. It’s us. A sort of rot in our world and souls, something that eats at our very roots. We’re not going to destroy the monster. For the sake of politics, we’re going to destroy ourselves.”
I was starting to feel the same, but I gave him a smile. “Tuskaloosa is a new Nation, different, with a scrappy high minko.” But I wasn’t sure I believed it.
Blood Thorn gave me a sidelong glance. “Horned Serpent chose well, my friend. You keep that beating heart of yours thumping away in your chest. But me? I’m starting to see death everywhere. Not like you think, from cabayos and hierro. We’re just not smart enough. That’s what’s going to kill us all in the end.”
“I don’t believe that.”
His smile was a fleeting, vulnerable thing. “No, Black Shell, I’m sure you don’t.”
At Talisi, on the Tuskaloosa border, we found the town fortified—a concession to their proximity to Tuskaloosa’s nearest town, Caxa, a half-day’s journey downriver.
The Talisi mikko, a grizzled old warrior from the Cougar Clan, greeted Tastanaki with a bear hug, turned over his palace, provided a feast, and was anxious to hear news of the Kristianos.
That night, after most had sought their blankets, Tastanaki and I sat up, prodding the fire with a stick. The Talisi mikko sat cross-legged across from us.
“This plan,” the old mikko began, “it has merit. But Tuskaloosa is both cunning and skilled.”
“How do we approach him?” Tastanaki asked.
“By serving his best interest.” The old mikko took out his pipe, tamped tobacco into the bowl, and lit it with our prodding stick. He drew, puffed out an aromatic blue cloud, and added, “Much will depend upon what happens in Coosa. How the Kristianos act.”
Tastanaki nodded. “A group of runners has already been assembled. One a day is being sent down the trails, each bearing the latest news. These will all carry the White Arrow, and we will inform Tuskaloosa as they arrive.”
The old man glanced at us, eyes evaluative. “And if it turns out that the High Sun has been made captive, that the Kristianos are acting disrespectfully?”
“Then Tuskaloosa will be more likely to accommodate an alliance.”
“What of me?”
“The High Sun may order you to evacuate your town, burn the granaries, and have your warriors harass the Kristiano advance. If relations with the Kristianos remain friendly you may be asked to help lull the invader, carry his packs, and feed his army when it comes through.”
I added, “And if the monster believes nothing is afoot, he’ll probably leave the High Sun here.”
“Let us hope.” The old man pulled on his pipe. “But what you are doing . . . it will be dangerous.”
Tastanaki gave the old man a thin smile. “More dangerous than being worked to death while chained to a line of slaves?”
The following morning we boarded the canoes and made the trip to Caxa. Nor did we catch the Tuskaloosa sleeping. On a long reach of the river, a sleek canoe launched from the bank, four young men within. Slim of build, with ropy muscles, they wore their hair pinned up, beaded warrior’s forelocks hanging down. They paralleled our course just out of bow-shot, calling, “Who are you?”
I raised my trader’s staff. “We come under the Power of trade, bearing a White Arrow from Coosa. We are bound by both.”
They paddled a little closer. “Where are you going?”
“To take a peace mission to the high minko Tuskaloosa,” I called back. “The Coosa High Sun sends his tishu mikko to the capital at Atahachi. We have news of the Kristianos.”
The young men conferred for a moment. “Land at Caxa. We will inform the minko there.” Then they bent to the paddles, their slim craft literally flying across the water. Our heavier canoes had no chance to catch them.
“Tuskaloosa watches his approaches well,” Tastanaki said in admiration.
“Let’s hope he receives us with an open heart,” I added.
“You worry?” Tastanaki asked.
“But for the hilishaya’s keen ear, what would our fate have been at Coosa?”
Tastanaki had no reply, but I could see his expression turn grim. The warriors glanced uneasily back and forth; their paddles kept us to the thread of the river.
And then it began to rain.
At Caxa, a flotilla of warriors launched as we came into view. They were waiting, backing water along the shore, and paddled out to meet us. Behind them, the small outpost town seemed to bristle with warriors. I noticed that none of the usual fishing craft were out with their nets or divers. It probably wasn’t due to the weather.
“Greetings,” I called, and tried to look noble in the pounding rain.
Tastanki stood, holding his White Arrow high. “I am tishu mikko of Coosa, ruler of the Red Moiety. The Kristianos are in Coosa. Under the White Arrow we seek counsel with High Minko Tuskaloosa.”
Their leader—a warrior dressed for battle—stood in his canoe, his shield held to block the pattering rain, his bow strung. “We honor the Coosa White Arrow and will escort you directly to Atahachi town. A runner has been dispatched to the high minko. All will be ready for your arrival.”
So saying, they paddled out to meet our small flotilla.
That afternoon, the weather finally broke, with beams of sunlight shooting through the puffy white clouds.
As evening fell, to my surprise, we were ordered not to make shore and camp, but to continue on. This we did, aided by the full moon. Meanwhile, one of the Caxa war canoes pulled ahead, the lead warrior rising to his feet. When snags or shallows appeared, he’d call the location, pointing, guiding us down the black water.
My biggest problem was the dogs. They kept whining, getting up, trying to turn around, desperate to pee. The Tuskaloosa—unimpressed—refused to stop. I winced each time an “accident” happened on the packs. Coupled with weariness, stiff joints, and an aching butt, it did little to lighten my mood.
Just before dawn we were allowed to camp, our warriors so exhausted they couldn’t have committed treachery even if they’d wanted. It seemed as if I’d barely closed my eyes before we were awakened and ordered into the canoes.
Pearl Hand nudged me and pointed. Tastanaki whacked one of his warriors who was yawning, and I heard him say, “Look sharp! Do you want these Tuskaloosa to think we’re weak and sleepy? Your honor’s at stake.”
Four days later we arrived at Atahachi town a little after dawn, exhausted, cramped, and bleary-eyed. The capital lay on the river’s southern bank, just off an oxbow below the confluence of the Tallapoosa and Coosa rivers. The town itself was set back from the floodplain atop a low terrace with well-drained soils.
As the canoes were pulled ashore by willing locals, we clambered out, taking steps like old men. The dogs bailed over the sides, wading in, some of them urinating and defecating right in the water.
Nevertheless, a yatika was waiting, his staff of office in hand. I found my trader’s staff, while Tastanaki climbed into his litter chair and was lifted. I took the lead, calling my traditional if fatigue-slurred greeting.
Tastanki was carried forward, the White Arrow held high as he cried, “Commanded by the High Sun of Coosa we seek to have counsel with the high minko Tuskaloosa. We bind ourselves under the White Arrow and come in peace with news about the Kristianos.”
The yatika raised his arms. “By order of the high minko Tuskaloosa, you are welcomed and received. A house has been made ready for you. You will wish to rest, eat, and refresh yourselves. If you will come with me, your packs will be delivered.”
“We are grateful for the high minko’s hospitality. But one thing first, good Yatika. Runners are being dispatched from Coosa with updates on the Kristianos and their actions. We ask the high minko to pass these men under the protection of the White Arrow. Their reports are for both of our benefits and will determine the direction of our negotiations.”
“Your request will be honored, great Tishu Mikko. Come. Let us see to your comfort, and then, when you have rested, the high minko will be pleased to meet with you.”
I glanced around the canoe landing, filled with locals come to watch our arrival. I’m sure we made a spectacle, blinking, stumbling, asleep on our feet. Trade ramadas stood off to each side, and behind them several granaries had been built on high-stilted legs, their floors hopefully above flood stage.
The capital itself was small, consisting of two smaller mounds for a charnel house and temple, and across a plaza, a higher mound that supported Tuskaloosa’s palace. While the Coosa warriors played their flutes, we followed the path around irregularly spaced houses, ramadas, mortars, and gardens, and I struggled just to hold my trader’s staff high.
Tastanaki’s Coosa warriors marched, heads up, backs straight, trying to look as impressive as they could after agonizing days in the canoes. I kept the dogs at heel with Pearl Hand’s help and wasn’t even enthused at the sight of the plaza with its stickball field and chunkey courts.
The house provided to us was just off the plaza, to the right of the high minko’s palace. The place had a wide porch, clay-plastered walls, and a peaked roof constructed of split cane over bark.
We stumbled into the dim interior, finding beds covered with finely tanned deer hides.
Pearl Hand grinned, walking over to the bed and flopping down. I climbed in beside her, hearing the poles squeak under our weight.
“If you’re feeling amorous,” she murmured, “forget it.” And then she was asleep. Moments later, after calling the dogs in, so was I.