Thirty-two

I’m getting too old for this. The notion kept rolling around in Blue Heron’s head as she climbed the stairs to the Council House Gate. The wind whipped at her cloak. Tried to topple her off the squared-log steps set into the ramp. Above her, Morning Star’s great mound, topped with its steep-roofed palace, soared against the sky.

She stopped at the top. Nodded to the guards who monitored the Council House Gate, then turned her attention to the Great Plaza where men were practicing on the chunkey courts, flinging lances after the rolling stones. A pickup game of stickball was being played on the other side of the tall World Tree pole in the plaza’s center. Around it, vendors had set up stalls, booths, or spread blankets to hawk their wares. At this time of year there weren’t as many of them. Gaps could be seen between the various potters, weavers, meat vendors, and Traders.

She sighed, rubbed her hip, and entered the gate. A scattering of people stood around in knots before the Council House door: lesser nobility, personal servants, and the like. Partially sheltered from the wind by the palisade wall and the bulk of the Council House, they were trying to reap whatever benefit could be had of the post-equinox sun where it peeked through the clouds.

Blue Heron made her way to the doorway, nodded at the warrior who stood guard there, and entered.

Immediately the warmth bathed her cold face, made her grin with relief. People nodded, called greetings, and stepped aside as she crossed the matting, passed the fire, and made her way to the rear of the room where Wind, seated on her litter, was talking to one of the recorders. Matron Robin Wing stood behind her. Arms crossed, face stiff and flinty, as if in distaste.

The recorder, a man in his early forties, had a long string of variously sized, colored, and shaped beads. These he was running through his fingers, reading off, “… seven hundred and fifty-seven standard baskets of corn, one hundred and ninety-five standard baskets of goosefoot seed, one hundred and fifty-three standard baskets of dried lotus root, two hundred and ten standard baskets of dried acorns, three hundred and twelve standard baskets of hickory nuts…” on and on until he reached the last of the beads.

“Quite a haul,” Wind remarked, turning her piercing gaze Robin Wing’s way.

The Matron’s long face reflected nothing. She’d always been able to adopt the gambler’s expression: impassive, her dark eyes inscrutable. Now she ran a long-boned hand over her graying hair, pulled her thin frame to full height. “That was the fall inventory. We’ve just passed the spring equinox celebration. All that feasting and dancing, our stores are depleted.”

“So are the stores for Morning Star House, River Mounds, and North Star House.” Wind arched a suggestive eyebrow as she resettled herself to glance Blue Heron’s way.

“Then you might ask North Star House to open their storehouses as well.”

“We have,” Wind told her, then glanced again at Blue Heron, the question hanging there between them.

“The first canoe-loads have already landed. Slender Fox and Wolverine began shipment yesterday.” Blue Heron kept her expression neutral, as if she was having a conversation about the strength of a cup of tea. “And it’s not like we’re asking you to strip your warehouse down to nothing, though Slender Fox ordered exactly that. We only need to replace what Columella offered and some additional as reward for her loan.”

“Why a reward? What’s that all about?” Matron Robin Wing crossed her thin arms.

“Because she came through at a desperate moment,” Wind snapped. “Because she took a gamble that the rest of us would do what she was willing to do. Replace those burned food stocks.”

“I still don’t think that warehouse catching fire was an accident.” Robin Wing narrowed an eye.

“No one does,” Blue Heron replied. Then added, “Well, but for Spotted Wrist and Rising Flame. Probably because they have their reasons for believing as they do.”

“What a surprise, eh?” A sour smile bent Robin Wing’s lips. “Slender Fox and Wolverine really opened their storehouses?”

“They did,” Blue Heron said.

Robin Wing closed her eyes, took a deep breath. For a time she held it, no doubt considering her options and trying to calculate the ramifications of refusing. Hard to do when Horned Serpent House would be the only one to hold out.

“The Earth Clans are contributing?” Robin Wing asked hopefully.

“Everyone is,” Wind told her. “We all share the pain. If bellies end up ganted by the time the first greens are imported, it will be all the way around. And it is spring. The migrations are starting. It won’t completely fill the gap, but a lot of people are going to be spending a lot more time hunting ducks, geese, herons, swans, cranes, and pigeons. I think we can organize a mass netting in the river. Get enough canoes together, tie enough nets together, and trawl it upstream and we should be able to make a substantial catch. Working together we can manage.”

“Slender Fox really agreed to this?” Robin Wing’s desperation was almost palpable.

“She did,” Blue Heron said mildly. “And with remarkable alacrity. She barely hesitated … considering that her attention was on her brother. She’s such a sharing woman and so open to family needs.”

Robin Wing lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“You could always say no, but we could really use your help,” Wind added. “Might stir a little resentment, being the only House to refuse to help out.”

“We shouldn’t be in this mess to start with.”

“No. Too bad, really. Makes you wonder what kind of man could possibly have so much trouble snaring himself a wife.” Blue Heron shrugged. “But then he and Rising Flame have made such a difference. Things run so much more smoothly now. Like getting all the Houses but one to pitch in and fix the problem created by the burning of the expedition supplies.”

Robin Wing grunted under her breath. “Green Chunkey will be livid.”

“He will,” Wind agreed. “But I suspect he will be more livid when North Star House comes out looking selfless, interested in the good of all, and Horned Serpent House looks like stingy misers interested only in their own bellies.”

Blue Heron gave a sagacious nod. “I can just hear Wolverine and Slender Fox in the next full Council meeting: ‘And where was Horned Serpent House when bellies were empty? Were they sharing? Did they place the good of Cahokia before their own?’”

Robin Wing bit off a curse, jaw muscles bunched. “You know we hate those people.”

True, not that many moons past they’d been fit to open combat against each other, and Piasa take the hindmost—even if it meant the destruction of both their Houses and Cahokia as well. Slender Fox had called Green Chunkey a walking piece of shit to his face.

Wind said, “I think that come the Green Corn Ceremony, we shall have a feast for the Houses who pitched in. In fact, as tonka’tzi I hereby order it. I wonder who will be left out, most noticeable by their absence? People will talk.”

“All right! I will send the order.” Robin Wing shook her head. “My brother will scream.”

“His voice will be drowned by the cries of thanks,” Wind said amiably. She turned. “Messenger.”

One of the young men along the back wall sprang forward, his staff of office in hand.

Robin Wing made a face. Seemed to flinch, then said, “Tell my stewards that the storehouses are to be opened, and all but a third part of what’s left is to be sent to replace Evening Star House’s stores.” She glanced at the recorder, who stood still holding his string of beads and looking uncomfortable. “Will that be enough?”

“Yes, Lady. Just about perfect.”

With that, Robin Wing growled something unpleasant under her breath. Then she stalked off, crossing the room and calling, “Have my litter made ready. I need to return, now!”

Wind chuckled. “That went well, unless, of course, it turns out that North Star House really didn’t send their share.”

“Given what I’ve got hanging over Slender Fox? Believe me, she’ll deliver.”

Which was when Blue Heron turned. There, leaning against the back wall, his muscular arms crossed and knotted, Sliding Ice watched. The man’s eyes were slitted, angry, promising mayhem and violence.

Does he know it was me?

Somehow, that seemed a safe bet, and it sent a shiver down her spine.