Thirteen

The fire in Columella’s palace burned hot and fierce, which not only illuminated the great room’s interior but came as a welcome relief to Blue Heron’s chilled limbs. While she’d had a blanket wrapped tightly around her as the porters bore her down the Avenue of the Sun to the canoe landing, the chill had slowly eaten its way into her bones.

Pus and blood! Would summer never come?

As she’d been taken across the river in a Trader’s canoe, the few rays of sunshine had vanished, thick black clouds blowing down from the northwest. By the time her litter and porters had been ferried across, the first flakes of snow had begun drifting and twisting down from the leaden sky.

She could smell the strength of it. This was going to be one of those miserable, sodden storms. And it came at the absolute worst time. Somehow she had to get the expedition resupplied in two days.

Everything now depended upon her relationship with Matron Columella—a woman who had once plotted to destroy Blue Heron. And whose relatives Blue Heron had managed to exile to distant colonies over the years.

“This is a surprise,” Columella announced as she stepped out from her personal quarters in the rear of the palace. “Wouldn’t have expected you. Or, perhaps I should. Let me guess. The burning of the Cofitachequi expedition’s food warehouse wasn’t an accident. You’re here trying to figure out who the guilty party was.”

Columella wore a white skirt woven of fine dogbane thread, its hem accented by black Four Winds spirals. Tall moccasins crafted from soft fawnskin rose to her knees. A quilted goose-down cape hung over her shoulders, and a simple hair bun was held in place with polished bone skewers.

“I wouldn’t be much of a Keeper if I didn’t know who burned the warehouse and why.” Blue Heron clapped her hands before her, happy that feeling had been restored by the roaring fire. “Had to be Spotted Wrist. Oh, not him personally, but one of his trusted warriors. And the reason? To keep Night Shadow Star in town long enough that he can get her to the Clan House and safely married. Once the union is consummated, she can run off to the end of the earth for all he cares.”

Columella pursed her lips, climbed up onto the litter atop the clay dais across the fire. “Then your presence here is something of a puzzle. What can I do for you?”

Blue Heron indicated the clay dais where it rose waist-high from the floor. “Flat Stone Pipe in there? If so, he can come out and be comfortable. Matron, you and I are beyond trying to cut each other’s throats and battling for prominence. Back when we did, it proved to be a senseless game that cost us both more than we could afford to lose.”

“Yes, it did, didn’t it?” Columella smiled wistfully. “I appreciate your candor. Flat Stone Pipe, however, isn’t here. Had I known you were coming, I would have seen to it that he was on hand. I think he’s over in River Mounds City keeping an eye on War Duck and Round Pot. Ever since that debacle when their eternal fire was snuffed last fall, they’ve been struggling to keep their hold on the high chair. Too many cousins are sparring to take them down. Three Fingers, second cousin I think, is up to his eyebrows in intrigue.”

“It’s been nice, actually, to have them at each other’s throats rather than causing mischief. I, however, am here with a proposition. And yes, it’s about the burned warehouse. It was full of food, corn mostly, that was supposed to keep the expedition fed as it winds its way south and east to Cofitachequi. For a variety of political reasons, Wind, Five Fists, and I need to have those people gone. Day after tomorrow at the latest. For that, I need corn, beans, and squash. A lot of it.”

“Meaning everything in my warehouses?”

“How clever you are. You could be a House matron.” Blue Heron shot her a conspiratorial smile. “I owe you, and I take my debts seriously. In return for your food stocks, we, meaning Five Fists and Wind and me, promise to replace every last kernel as soon as we possibly can, even if that means stripping some of the other Houses. And in addition? We’ll give you a tenth part more.”

“What makes you think the other Houses will allow themselves to be stripped? Let alone see Evening Star House end up with a tenth part more?”

“I think Morning Star will order it.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“Since when is anything sure with Morning Star? But here’s my hunch: He always plays a deep game. He wants Night Shadow Star to make it to Cofitachequi. They’re in that together somehow. Beyond that, he has me pitted against Rising Flame and Spotted Wrist in some kind of competition that I don’t completely understand, but I’ve played the game long enough to know that it’s for keeps. Beyond that, Wind is fully committed to getting that bunch on the river and gone, especially the dissidents. So is Five Fists, who knows how close we came to civil war last fall. And he really despises Spotted Wrist.”

“You were never really one of his favorites either, as I recall.”

“This is Five Fists we’re talking about. He doesn’t have favorites. He and I have always tolerated each other. Respected each other. Not that that stopped him from taking me prisoner, nor would it have kept him from dutifully hanging me in a square if the Morning Star ever commanded it.”

“I’ve had my own troubles, you know. Ever since that vile and twisted Walking Smoke burned my palace, half of my House has been plotting to overthrow me. War Duck and Round Pot are not the only ones who have been staggered by unfortunate events in the past couple of years. But for Flat Stone Pipe, Two Moons would have built a strong enough coalition to have me retired to a farmstead somewhere out west.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then you are also aware that I raised eyebrows in this House by supporting you and Wind during the Council last year. That fed a lot of suspicion that I was a Morning Star House lackey. People say I’ve lost my nerve, and I’ve surrendered my House and my values to become your creature.”

Blue Heron ground the few teeth she had left. “We both know better than that.”

“They don’t.”

“Evening Star House’s ultimate goals are best served by sending that expedition downriver.”

“If I give you the food, it will seem like I’m playing your game for you.” Columella arched an eyebrow. “And, like you say, the game is ultimately to unseat Spotted Wrist, isn’t it? Get your position back as Keeper?”

“I won’t lie to you about that.”

“Then, what’s the truth about this Koroa copper that has everyone’s balls in a knot? You steal it to make Spotted Wrist look bad?”

“I did not.”

“Of course not. Word was there was a dog named Farts involved.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“So, you didn’t steal the copper, but we know who did. Did the thief do it at your suggestion?”

“I give you my word of honor, I had no part in the planning, execution, or even any knowledge of what happened to that gods-rotted copper.”

Columella narrowed an eye. “Old friend, I have to tell you, I fear getting involved in your games. I need a couple of months to quell the unrest here on this side of the river without stirring up more trouble for myself.”

“You’re not going to like it if Spotted Wrist and Rising Flame turn their attention your way. And they will.”

“Let me think.” Columella took a deep breath, mulling things, her lips moving.

Blue Heron wasn’t sure if Columella really needed all the time she took to think it through, or if she just stalled as a way to inflict a subtle form of torture. Finally, Columella said, “All right. I’ll empty our warehouses. Resupply the expedition, but I want two-tenths part in addition.”

Blue Heron felt her heart skip. How was she supposed to sell that to Wind or Five Fists? Especially when it was the end of winter when all of spring lay before the city and most of the granaries were empty? Could she do it? Could Wind?

“A tenth part and a half.”

“Done.” Columella slapped a hand to her thigh. “And Blue Heron, if you don’t come through with this, we’re both in trouble. You understand that, don’t you?”