Thirty-four

The Casquinampo had called it Maygrass Town before they abandoned the location. It once stood on a raised terrace above the Sand River and a tributary called Creek-Where-Raccoons-Play that ran down from the uplands in the west. An old Trader’s trail could still be seen headed up the valley that—according to White Mat—ran across the limestone uplands, across the divide, and joined the headwaters of a creek that flowed west into the Father Water a ten-day journey away.

When the Cahokians had established their colony at the mouth of the Sand River, the Casquinampo had abandoned Maygrass Town, unsure of the Cahokians’ ultimate goals. They had been unwilling to have their people corrupted by the Cahokian priests with their stories of gods come to earth in human bodies, not to mention their insidious game of chunkey. All things that might subvert impressionable Casquinampo youths.

That had been almost a generation ago. The fields had gone back to wild, but still sported stands of the maygrass for which the town had been named. Remains of a rotted-out palisade—most of its posts hauled off over the years—forty or so house depressions, the structures long since collapsed, and a low, square mound that had once supported the chief’s palace, remained. A bowshot to the north stood a conical burial mound—grassed over now, and with saplings furring its slopes. Several prayer sticks—offerings to the dead—were weathering away.

Behind the old town limits, new-growth forest dominated, covering the gentle slopes back from the terrace. The trails that wound through the trees were thick with litter and leaf mat, their only use apparently from the deer who cautiously dared to pass this close to Canebrake Town.

Red Reed was pulled up at the west end of the canoe landing along the Creek-Where-Raccoons-Play and was masked from view by once-tended chokeberry bushes gone wild.

White Mat had set up camp back away from the water, and close to the forest where saplings were already marching through the thick grass and wildflowers that covered the old town. The location was out of sight from anyone passing by on the Sand River.

Made Man and Half Root had erected a shelter for themselves, while the other Traders built lean-tos.

Fire Cat and Night Shadow Star had put their efforts to building a bedding of grass, topped by blankets, and then draped tanned hides over a framework of branches to keep them dry.

Mixed Shell turned his attention to the stew, starting water to boil over the fire, while Shedding Bird sorted through their food stocks.

As soon as they were laid out, Night Shadow Star had crawled into her blankets; she was now sound asleep.

Fire Cat, for his part, strung his bow, collected his quiver, and took the old Traders’ trail that paralleled the creek bottom headed west.

As the day waned, the sum total of his hunt came to three large fox squirrels who’d forgotten just how accurately an arrow could be dispatched.

It was a measure of their exhaustion that the rest of the camp was asleep by dusk.

I should be as exhausted as the rest.

Instead he pasted his exposed skin with insect repellent made from something red called blood root and spruce sap mixed with sassafras extract. Then he walked down to the bank and looked out over the smooth waters of the Sand River. On the opposite shore willows, water oak, and cottonwood surrounded older bald cypress in the swampy low ground. Real bald cypress. He’d marveled at the trees, having never seen them alive and growing before. White Mat had assured him that as they traveled farther south, he’d see some giants. To a man raised in the northern forests, they were magical.

The first frogs were croaking; the night came alive with the sounds of insects. A fish splashed out on the river, its rings quickly devoured by the swelling and sucking water.

He watched as a bat flitted about in search of insects, its shape outlined against the dying light in the sky.

The sound of her steps as she made her way through the grass brought him back to the moment. Night Shadow Star seated herself beside him.

“Thought you’d still be asleep.”

She pulled her hair back, tilting her face to the evening sky. “I would be … but it was get up and find a place to relieve myself or spend the night in soaked blankets.” She glanced at him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Worried about Blood Talon. About getting past him. And once we do, there’s still Walking Smoke waiting for us at the end of the journey.”

She reached out, took his hand, her touch sending a tremor though him. “Wishing we could just run away?”

“Always.”

“The voices get louder when I’m tired. They’re telling me terrible things. Piasa has been flashing at the edges of my vision. I hear him speaking to me, but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. It’s not good. It’s like he’s furious. That he needs to punish me for failing him.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“I need you to tell me something.”

“What?” She shot him a quizzical look.

“Is Piasa mad about you freeing me? If he is, tell him I serve you and only you. When it comes to you and me, nothing has changed. Bound or free, I remain yours. Whatever it takes, no matter the sacrifice. Make sure he understands.”

She stared at him, her eyes like dark holes in her face. “You should go. Make a life for yourself. Any people, any chief, any woman would be honored to have a man like you.”

“I have a life, an allegiance, a ruler, and a woman all rolled into one. She is outstanding, courageous, and all that I will ever need.”

She sighed, looked self-consciously away. “If I could change things…”

When she couldn’t finish, he gave her hand a reassuring pat. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“When we reach Cofitachequi…” She tightened her grip. “Fire Cat, I don’t know what happens beyond that. Piasa gives me glimpses in my dreams. Something terrible happens there. I can’t quite see it. I just know I am alone and terrified when it happens.”

He took a breath, used his free hand to swipe at the humming mosquitoes that had collected in a wavering column above his head. “If I am not at your side, I am dead. Nothing else would explain why you would be alone. Ever.”

“Do you really care so little for your future? You could live to an old and honored age. Have children…” Her voice faded.

“What? Why did you pause?”

“Piasa is laughing.” She glanced off into the gloom. “Yes, you miserable beast, I know he’s dedicated his life to me. I’m trying to get him to see reason.”

“I had children,” he told her. “Two charming wives. I was a famous war chief and considered a great man. Beloved by my people. It was all taken away from me. The price I paid to come into your service. If I’m to die keeping you alive—even if it be but for a matter of time—I need nothing more.”

Again, she was giving him that intent stare. “Do you really love me that much?”

“And more.”

She let go of his hand, lowered her face into her palms, her hair spilling around her like a mantle. He could hear her taking deep breaths, could see the slight shake of her head. “You are a fool.”

“People have told me that before. Didn’t believe it then, don’t now.”

“That, or you have a death wish.”

“Not particularly.”

“I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. For my part in bringing you to this.”

“Do you know the most terrible day of my life?”

“When Red Wing Town fell.”

“No.”

She raised her head, looking at him with that intensity he could feel more than see in the darkness.

“It was the day you married that Itza lord. Nothing—not the death of my children, the loss of Red Wing Town, or even the fear I felt in the darkness in that cave when the terrors of the Underworld hovered around me—was so terrible. But for the thief…” He shook his head, laughed in a vain attempt to make light of it.

“It was my duty to my clan.”

“I know.”

“We beat him, though, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“Together,” she said thoughtfully.

“Together.”

“You know how much I would give to leave all of this behind?”

“I do.”

“I was cursed. It began the moment I was born. It’s because of who I have to be. Maybe, if we can kill my brother, it will be enough of a balance, a sacrifice to Power, that you and I can make a new life.”

“Maybe.”

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, yawned, and climbed to her feet. Looking out into the darkness off to one side, she said, “Yes, Lord. I am thinking about it. Wondering what price I would have to pay, and if it would hurt more than living this way.”

“What is the beast saying?”

“Just meddling,” she told him as she walked off into the night. “Like he usually does.”

Meddling in what? But he knew from her tone of voice she’d never tell him.

It didn’t usually help matters when he tried to understand what went on between his lady and the Spirit monster who owned her.

Tossing a stick out into the dark water, he stood, clawed at the mosquitoes so they’d be as out of sorts as he was, and turned his steps toward camp. There, he knew he’d spend the night aching to hold her. Satisfied to know that she slept but an arm’s length away, and that he would be there if she needed him.