Fifteen

Snow fell in thick sheets. At times Fire Cat could barely see farther than he could have thrown a rock. And then a shift in the wind would leave a hole, as if parting a veil in the dancing and falling flakes. At those times he could see clear across the Father Water to where gangs of men and women slipped and slid their way down the path from Evening Star Town to pile basket after basket of corn into the waiting Trade canoes.

As soon as one was full, it was paddled across the river where waiting warriors and laborers carried the baskets and sacks to shelter. The ash-stained sands of the canoe landing were now a slushy mess. People slopping back and forth.

“Who would have believed it?” Night Shadow Star asked from beneath a snow-encrusted hood.

“Word is that Clan Keeper Blue Heron herself is overseeing the operation,” Crazy Frog told her.

After the return of his litter, the noted gambler had insisted on accompanying them down to the canoe landing. The nondescript man wore a bark hat that kept his head and shoulders protected. A thick cloak hung from his shoulders for warmth.

“She’s no longer Keeper,” Fire Cat noted.

“Hard not to call her that.” Crazy Frog pulled his blanket tighter. “You really want to leave in this?”

“Sooner is better,” Night Shadow Star told him. “It’s just snow. And a late winter storm at that. It will be melted in a couple of days, and by then we’ll be past the confluence.”

“Cofitachequi’s a long way to travel. Lot of dangers, and not just the wild tribes. The river will try and do everything it can to kill you.”

The gambler reached into his bag, offering a small stone carving to Night Shadow Star. She lifted it, and Fire Cat saw it was in the shape of a fox. Carved from jasper, it had been finished by a master, the beast’s cunning expression artfully worked into the stone.

“You get in trouble on the Tenasee, Lady, you hunt down a Trader called The River Fox. There’s no one better when it comes to the Tenasee. He’s—”

“Winder?” Fire Cat interrupted in surprise. “But he’s the one behind all that Surveyors’ Bundle trouble that—”

“Who can blame a man for a little trouble?” Crazy Frog shrugged, and tilted his bark hat, which allowed a smattering of flakes to land on his shoulder. “That business with the Keeper and Seven Skull Shield last fall, that wasn’t personal. It was a hired job. Winder lives by the Power of Trade. If you give him that token, tell him it’s from me, he’ll get you to Cofitachequi if there’s any human way possible.”

Fire Cat was filling his lungs to object when Night Shadow Star cut him off, saying, “Your kindness is deeply appreciated. On many levels. If we find need, I shall be sure to hire him as a guide.”

“Lady,” Crazy Frog said with a slight bow.

She laid a hand on the gambler’s arm, adding, “I also know how you have served Fire Cat and me in the past. It will not be forgotten.” From her bag she extracted a shell gorget carved in the shape of an open square and depicting four overlaying sides.

This she handed to Crazy Frog, adding, “Should you find yourself in need, present this to either of my aunts. Both Wind and Blue Heron will recognize it and your claim. That gorget was a gift from my first husband. They will do what they can to assist you.”

Crazy Frog spared her a stunned look, bowed deeply, and touched his forehead in respect. “I am honored, Lady.”

Fire Cat shot the man a wary look. This, after all, was Crazy Frog. He had fingers in half of the dirty dealings on the canoe landing—not to mention that he almost lived in War Duck’s pocket, had been in the middle of last fall’s excitement over the Surveyors’ Bundle, and played all sides against the others. In that fiasco, a party of Quiz Quiz had stolen the sacred Bundle containing the Surveyors’ Society’s instruments, the ones they used to lay out angles, measure, and parcel land. People had died, and Cahokia had almost come apart at the seams.

The man had also—through his knowledge of chunkey—played a role in analyzing Fire Cat’s game so that he could win that vaunted match against Swirling Cloud.

Fire Cat sighed, grinned. What matter? Chances were slim that either he or Night Shadow Star would see Cahokia again.

“Now these Traders,” Crazy Frog said, leading them down to the waiting canoe. “They’re Yuchi. From Big Cane Town down on the Great Bend of the Tenasee. I know them. Good people.”

In the falling snow, the canoe, called Red Reed, didn’t look nearly as elegant as it had the last time they’d seen it. Snow clumped on the gunwales and seats, mounded on the packs and box they’d had delivered. But the four men and one woman stood waiting, hoods protecting their heads and shoulders from the thick white flakes.

White Mat, in his thirties, was the leader. Like all river Traders, the man had wide shoulders, muscular arms, and a dark-tanned face.

Shedding Bird, a year younger, had a slightly larger nose than his brother, and kept his hair longer. He grinned at Night Shadow Star in a shy sort of way.

Mixed Shell and Made Man hailed from the same village, both tough-looking, strapping, and sharing that squint-eyed expression that came from years on the water.

The woman, Made Man’s wife, was in her midtwenties; she had been named Half Root. She stood with a cocked hip and studied Night Shadow Star with a saucy air of disregard and superiority.

“These are very important people to me,” Crazy Frog told the Yuchi. “I would take it as a personal favor if you took special care of them.”

“We promised to get them as far as Big Cane Town at the bottom of the Mussel Shallows cataract,” White Mat replied. “Until then, we’ll treat them right.”

“A canoe’s no palace, Lady,” Half Root said, her skeptical gaze still on Night Shadow Star. “We can’t be stopping and camping all the time.”

“We’re aware,” Night Shadow Star told her, a slight smile to her lips. Then her eyes went vacant—a look that told Fire Cat that Piasa was whispering in her ear.

“We can make a fair distance today if we get on the river now,” Fire Cat said in an effort to distract them from Night Shadow Star’s vacant gaze. They’d see a lot of it, but later, once they were on the river. He dropped his weapons and chunkey gear inside the polished bald cypress hull.

To Crazy Frog, he offered his hand. “Thank you. If I run into any outstanding players, I’ll send them your way.”

“Watch your release,” Crazy Frog reminded. “You have a habit of rushing it. Let the stone kiss the ground.”

“I won’t forget.”

Fire Cat helped Night Shadow Star into the canoe, watched her wipe the snow from one of the central benches and seat herself.

Bending his back with the rest, Fire Cat helped shove the hull from the sand, watched as the Traders nimbly leaped into the canoe, grabbing up paddles.

Fire Cat slipped over the side, settling himself beside Night Shadow Star and reaching for one of the paddles.

“You going to help?” Mixed Shell asked, approving.

“We’ll get there faster,” Fire Cat told him. Then he took a look back as the canoe slid out into the current.

Through the falling snow, River Mounds City could barely be made out above the canoe landing—a ghostly outline of buildings that faded into encompassing white. The effect was almost magical.

The bustle around the expedition, an arrow-shot’s distance upstream from them, seemed surreal. Snow-clotted figures like ants in line, trudging to and from the canoes, transferring baskets of corn.

“Spotted Wrist is going to be furious,” Night Shadow Star observed. “He thinks he’s still got days.”

“They’ll have that expedition on the river by tomorrow,” Fire Cat decided. “Wind and Five Fists want them gone.”

“Can they catch us?” Night Shadow Star asked.

As if such a statement was an absurdity, White Mat laughed. “Lady, if that bunch can catch Red Reed, we’ll suck toads and river slime.”

“Red Reed? How did you come up with the name?”

“Ever flick a floating reed with your finger?” Made Man asked. “It almost squirts across the water. The difference is in the bow, sharp, like a knife. Lot of work goes into shaping a proper Trade canoe. This one was crafted down south by the Tunica for river work. Took us years to accumulate the Trade needed to obtain Red Reed.”

“Worth it, though. You’ll see,” Half Root told him from her position in the rear. She was stroking just as vigorously as the rest of them.

Night Shadow Star was staring off into the snow, as if she could see some pattern in the falling sheets of white. Her mouth pinched, frown lines deepening in her forehead.

After a time, she said, “Nothing will be the same from here on. My master says he’s going to try and kill us now.”

“What? Who?” White Mat asked warily.

“Walking Smoke,” she said cryptically. “He’s going to try and use Power against us. He knows if we make it to Cofitachequi, everything he’s built will be destroyed.”