Fifty-three

“Make way! Make way!” Blue Heron’s porters called as they steered her litter through the cramped back ways just off the Avenue of the Sun in River Mounds City. This was a warren of warehouses, workshops, and craft specialists, all packed together in the close confines that made up the area just back from the canoe landing and River House’s elongated plaza.

All Blue Heron had to do was crane her neck, and she could see the River Mounds palace roof between the spaces as she was carried through the maze. That her people could find the way was a sort of miracle in itself.

She had worked for days to set up this meet. Sent stealthy runners off in the night to ensure that all the pieces were in place. And now she would discover if she still had the old touch.

The way led past an old weaver’s; the woman was sitting out in the sun, squinting at her work as she ran weft through the stays of her loom. She glanced up, shot a sour smile Blue Heron’s way that exposed pink gums long bereft of teeth.

And then Blue Heron’s litter rounded the old woman’s house and into a small yard bounded on one side by the weaver’s, by a ramada on the second, and by a prosperous-looking house and ramada on the third. A young woman waited beside the door, a pretty thing, with long glossy hair, a triangular face, and large eyes. She rose, displaying a pregnant belly, as Blue Heron’s litter was deposited in the yard.

Bones aching, Blue Heron climbed to her feet and grabbed up the sack she’d brought with her.

“Lady?” her head porter asked. “Can I be of assistance?”

“No. I don’t think I’ll be long. You and the rest, relax. Enjoy the shade in the ramada. I’m told that those jars contain water and there’s a latrine around the back.”

“Yes, Lady.”

Blue Heron walked over to the young woman. “Whispering Dawn. You’ve changed since you first appeared before me with a leash around your ankle.”

“Keeper?”

“Not anymore. I need to see Wooden Doll. She knows I’m coming.”

“This way.” Whispering Dawn opened the door, asking shyly, “How is Seven Skull Shield?”

“In trouble, if I was to guess. But then, what’s new about that? He been here recently?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“That makes two of us.” She stepped into a well-furnished room, a stack of firewood by the door. Thick rugs and hair-on hides partially obscured an intricately woven floor mat. Wall benches were opulently furnished with blankets, robes, and fine furs.

A small fire, just enough to provide illumination, burned in the central hearth. Several corrugated pots steamed on stones at the side of the coals. The smells were delightful—mint, black drink, and something made from boiled flower petals.

In the rear an ample bed had been built into the wall and was thick with pillows, blankets, and soft furs.

Wooden Doll rose from the bed, a warm smile on her full lips as she strode across the floor. She took Blue Heron’s hand in her own. Keeping her grip, she bowed low, touching her forehead respectfully, and said, “Lady. I bid you a most warm welcome. Please, have a seat. Dawn? Pour the Keeper a cup of that black drink.”

To Blue Heron she added, “I’ve brewed it specially for you. If you’re hungry, I can lay a feast for you in less than a finger’s time. I have roast venison, stuffed duck, acorn bread seasoned with blueberries, or stewed buffalo tongue in onions and tender goosefoot leaves.”

“I thought times were lean, given the near-empty storehouses in River Mounds.”

“They are.” She smiled, leading Blue Heron to one of the benches. “For those who can’t afford it. Your preference?”

“Buffalo tongue?”

“Dawn? Please?”

“Yes, Matron.” And the young woman was out the door, shutting it behind her to give them privacy.

“Thanks for seeing me.”

Wooden Doll seated herself a respectful but intimate distance from Blue Heron, her keen brown eyes measuring. “What can I help you with?”

“I take it that I don’t have to explain the political situation in River Mounds. You are aware that Three Fingers and Broken Stone are about to move on War Duck and Round Pot. Broken Stone’s faction is using the opening of the storehouses to replenish Columella’s stores as a rallying point to topple his brother and sister.”

Wooden Doll’s arched brow indicated the obvious. “I don’t take sides.”

“We both know better than that. I’m here to do business, and I think you’re the key to River Mounds City and River House.”

“Me? I’m just a woman who sells herself.”

“And I’m just a has-been Clan Keeper.” Blue Heron grinned. “Kind of nice being dismissed as irrelevant by the rest of the world, isn’t it?”

Wooden Doll’s almost deadly smile proved more eloquent than words. “What exactly do you need from me?”

“Three Fingers, using Broken Stone, wants to ascend to the high chair. I don’t want to see him do it.”

“Why should I care which side wins? War Duck, bless his sordid soul, takes a portion of what I make. Tribute, he calls it. Broken Stone might not take any, assuming he even knows who passes what to River House when it comes to wealth.”

“What if I could put in a good word for you? You see, War Duck is in need of friends these days. He might be persuaded to forget any ‘tribute’ his few friends might owe. Given the right circumstances.”

“Neither War Duck nor Round Pot have ever been friends of yours. I’d think, Keeper, that you’d want them gone, as many headaches as they’ve given you over the years.”

“You know Three Fingers.” She pointed. “He’s been in that bed of yours a time or two.”

“So has War Duck. What’s your point?”

“My point is that you know that if Three Fingers ultimately takes over, he’s going to go about shaking things up. What’s the point of suddenly having all that authority and prestige you’ve longed for all your life if you can’t flaunt it? And there are paybacks that will need to be made. People, lineages that have stood in his way in the past, need to be dispatched. Additional purges on top of the ones Rising Flame just made prior to sending that expedition off to the south. The old familiar structure is going to be turned on its head. A major disruption of business.

“Might even drive some of the Trade to other places. Perhaps Evening Star Town, or worse, Horned Serpent Town, despite the lack of a close canoe landing there.

“Not to mention that keeping War Duck and Round Pot in control lets me deal with the enemy I know. It would take time, effort, and distasteful means to educate either Broken Stone—if he’s left alive—or Three Fingers as to where his best interests lie.”

Wooden Doll laughed. “I thought Rising Flame knocked you off your pedestal as Clan Keeper.”

“Oh, she did. Cut me right off at the ankles and left me impotent, as you can see. Poor me.”

“Why do you care who controls River House? You could sit back, enjoy good food, sleep late, and be lazy. Watch from afar, saying, ‘Told you so.’”

Blue Heron sighed. “The problem with Cahokia, from the very beginning, is that it has the fundamental impulse to tear itself apart. It did in the days of Tharon and Petaga, and it does now, despite the living god. I’ve worked all my life to keep the city together, and now we’re building an empire. After all these years, all the sacrifice and blood, I don’t want to see Spotted Wrist lose it because he doesn’t know his job.”

Wooden Doll considered. “I didn’t know you were such a starry-headed idealist.”

“I’m more of a self-centered pragmatist, actually.”

“You know where my interests lie. I expect compensation.”

“You’ll have it. If I can pull this off. I’ll do my best to get that ‘tribute’ taken care of.”

“Done.”

As Whispering Dawn brought in the food, Wooden Doll asked, “Where’s Skull? He been with you?”

“Saw him a couple of weeks ago. Him and that disaster of a dog that goes everywhere with him.” She made a face, inhaling the scent of roast buffalo tongue. “He’s in love.”

“That woman of Robin Feather’s?”

“That’s her.”

“She’s trouble. Just ask Robin Feather. He’s still searching for her and Skull. Keeps a constant eye on my place. She’s going to break Skull’s heart.”

“Can’t tell him that. As he insists, he knows all there is to know about women.”

“If he knew half of—”

A discreet knock came at the door, a young man sticking his head in. “Mistress,” he said, looking out of breath, “you asked me to keep an eye on the thief? He’s been taken. Took me a while to find out where. That war leader, Spotted Wrist. He’s got him locked in a cage in his palace.”

Blue Heron felt her gut drop, then shot a look at Wooden Doll, who’d turned a shade paler. “You were saying?”