Seventy-two

The man’s name was Splinter Branch. He had arrived in the middle of the night, just the latest in a constant stream of Blue Heron’s spies. She had been getting reports for the last two days. Stories of runners arriving at all hours of the day as they shuttled between Spotted Wrist or Slender Fox’s palaces, of their being secluded in private meetings in Horned Serpent House.

That something was being brokered between North Star House and Horned Serpent House was evident. An example of the rapidly shifting alliances given that the two Houses had been exchanging the vilest of insults and on the verge of war barely nine moons past.

Not all the messengers were streaming between the north and south. Others were beating feet from Spotted Wrist’s palace to a Council House in River Mounds City. There, Blue Heron’s spies reported, they were meeting with Three Fingers, Broken Stone, and Waving Reed. And from the Council House, so the spies reported, other runners were slipping back and forth among allied relatives who opposed War Duck and Round Pot, and most saliently, among the prominent Earth Clans chiefs under River House’s governance.

In the midst of all this had come news that Spotted Wrist had removed some of his squadron firsts and seconds, replacing them with either trusted subordinates or, worse, relatives.

And for what possible reason would the Hero of the North be reorganizing his veteran squadrons, helping North Star House to broker alliances, and talking to rebels in River House?

She’d been brooding on that through most of the night, unable to sleep, when Big Right, one of her guards, had answered a call at her door.

She was up and dressed, almost muzzy-headed from fatigue, as Splinter Branch was ushered into her great room. Blue Heron herself threw a couple faggots of wood onto the coals, watched them bloom into flame, and settled herself on her dais to ask, “What news?”

Splinter Branch bent low, touching his forehead to her mat, then straightened. “I thought you should know, Lady. Just at dusk most of a squadron moved out of Serpent Woman Town. It’s like all those warriors just appeared out of nowhere. No one saw them assemble. They came marching into Serpent Woman Town a couple of hands of time before sunset. Ate a big meal that Slender Fox had had prepared in the Men’s House, and then marched out again. They were on the river trail, headed south. My guess would be that they’ll be in River Mounds City by morning.”

At that she’d straightened, seeing it all in her mind.

“What do you think?” Smooth Pebble asked, having risen from her bed.

“You can bet that’s not the only squadron on the move,” Dancing Sky said from where she’d sat up in her blankets. “The change in command structure? The secret call-up of the squadrons? This is Spotted Wrist. He learned his lesson in the north when he surprised Red Wing Town. This is all about surprise.”

Blue Heron closed her eyes, felt that sick sensation in her gut. “He’s going to take River Mounds City,” she said. “Depose War Duck and Round Pot. With Three Fingers either controlling Broken Stone or taking the high chair himself, River House will back him in a move against Columella. There’s old animosity between River House and Evening Star House. Spotted Wrist and Three Fingers? It’s a natural fit.”

“What can you do about it?” Smooth Pebble asked. “Alert Morning Star? Get him to intervene?”

She rubbed her face, trying to sort it through. “Might be too late. And there’s no telling where Rising Flame is in all this. Spotted Wrist is her chosen. Wouldn’t put it past her that she’s egging the Keeper on, hoping to remake Cahokia in her image.”

Dancing Sky added, “If the squadron left Serpent Woman Town at sunset, they’re making a night march. Along the river, that’s tough travel given the swamps, the marshes.”

“They’re moving along the levee. It will be slow going, especially in the dark,” Blue Heron agreed. “There still might be time. Splinter Branch, I know you’re tired. I need you to get word to War Duck and Round Pot. Fast. I’d hire you a litter, but it’s the middle of the night. You’ll have to run. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Keeper!” The young man stood, a grim set to his wide mouth. He tapped a fist to his forehead and turned, headed for the door.

“Wait.” Blue Heron reached down and plucked up her staff of office. “You’ll need this. It will get you right in to War Duck and Round Pot. Tell them what you just told me. Then tell them I think their lives are on the line. That I don’t think it would be beyond Three Fingers and Spotted Wrist to have them and their supporters murdered on the spot.”

“Yes, Keeper!” Splinter Branch took the staff of office, a look of wonder in his eyes as if the thing were a magical talisman.

Blue Heron watched him disappear through the door and into the night.

“So much for sleep,” Smooth Pebble announced as she crossed to the fire. From a basket she took a handful of toasted yaupon and tossed it into a pot of water. This she placed on the now-snapping flames. “It’ll take a hand of time to boil.”

“Made it a bit strong, don’t you think?” Blue Heron muttered, rubbing the meaty part of her palm into her weary eyes.

“I think you’re going to need all your wits, Lady.”

“White Rain? I need you to get dressed, take word of this to Wind. The sooner she knows, the better prepared she’ll be. Soft Moon?”

“Yes, Lady?” The young woman was already dressing.

“Go find my porters. Have them carry you to Evening Star Town. Alert Columella.”

“Yes, Lady.”

“Dancing Sky?”

“Lady?”

“Grab a cloak, I’m counting on you to get word to Five Fists. Tell him that Spotted Wrist is moving his army. I doubt Spotted Wrist would move on the living god, but Five Fists needs to be ready for any eventuality.”

Dancing Sky took no longer than needed, an amused look on her face as she prepared. At the door she turned, looking back. “So, Old Enemy, it has come to this?”

With that she inclined her head and touched her forehead, then vanished into the darkness.

Blue Heron considered the woman’s departure, surprised by the irony of it. How odd that Cahokia’s fate once again rested in the hands of the Red Wing heretics. Once her most despised of enemies, those women—who still considered Morning Star a hoax—were now off to serve the best interests of the city. She tried to recall the exact moment when she had won their loyalty.

Couldn’t.

“What next?” Smooth Pebble asked as she bustled about the fire, tossing cornmeal, squash blossoms, mint, and dried cubes of venison into the stewpot. The black drink was boiling now, starting to foam, the rich scent filling the room.

“It will all hinge on how Wind reacts. She’s the tonka’tzi. I need to be there, to back her up. She’ll need to coordinate with Five Fists, decide whether to take it straight to Morning Star, or whether to call up the Morning Star squadron. If she does that, it puts her in direct conflict with Rising Flame. In essence, she’s overriding the clan matron’s authority.”

“That would be a bitter and burning stone for the clan matron to swallow.”

“If Wind does call up the Morning Star squadron, and if she can sustain the authority to do so over Rising Flame’s objection, what does she do with them? It’s one thing to order War Claw to maintain order and security around the great mound, another if she asks them to march on Spotted Wrist’s squadrons. One is a police action, the other is civil war.”

“Morning Star has to intervene.”

“Does he?”

“If he doesn’t, what’s he going to do? Just sit up there atop his high mound and watch the city burn itself down to ashes?”

Blue Heron pulled at the wattle under her chin. “He might. Morning Star always plays a deep game. Layers within layers. And lest we forget, he’s a Spirit Being. A living god. What’s important to us mere humans, to the Houses, the Earth Clans, and the dirt farmers, isn’t always what’s important to him. For all I know, he’s seeing some mystical future where Cahokia no longer fulfills his or Power’s purpose.”

She paused. “And if that’s the case, well, who knows?”

Where she stirred the pot, the berdache frowned. “He’s acted before. When Walking Smoke was wreaking havoc, when his souls returned from the Underworld.”

“Those times it was about Power. And don’t forget, he let the Itza run roughshod over the city when Horn Lance brought that despicable Thirteen Sacred Jaguar and his warriors here to unleash chaos.” She pointed a hard finger. “Don’t ever try and second-guess the living god. His priorities are usually different than ours. Pus in a bucket, he was actually looking forward to being dead when that Chickosi girl poisoned him.”

The sound of something thumping out on the veranda distracted her from her dire thoughts. By Piasa’s swinging balls, what was Big Right doing out there? Dancing?

“There’s got to be a way out of this. It’s probably right under my nose.”

Smooth Pebble handed her a cup of the stew. “Here, eat this. Food helps you think.”

As Blue Heron used her horn to spoon the hot stew from her bowl, she said, “You’d think that Spotted Wrist would have learned his lesson that night at the tonka’tzi’s. Columella and I completely outflanked him. Even Rising Flame was taken by surprise. Doesn’t the man ever learn? She ordered him to make peace. And here he’s moving a squadron on River House?”

“So, what happens if he succeeds?” Smooth Pebble asked. “Backed by his warriors, Three Fingers deposes War Duck and Round Pot. Maybe he puts Broken Stone on the dais, maybe he caves his head in and takes the high chair for his own. Let’s say that they consolidate Three Fingers’ authority, and he calls up the River House squadrons. All the Earth Clans supply their warriors. Then what? Does he think he can march on Evening Star Town? Columella will have her squadrons watching and waiting on the other side of the river. Not to mention the dwarf’s spy network keeping tabs. Any element of surprise is gone.”

“That means…” Blue Heron glanced up at the movement at her door. Two warriors stood there, dressed in battle armor, bows strung and hanging over their backs, war clubs protruding from behind the shields they held.

A terrible sense of foreboding ran through her as she asked, “Who are you?”

“New security, Lady,” the first said. He might have been in his forties, Deer Clan tattoos on his cheeks. “Compliments of the Hero of the North, we’re here to ensure your safety.”

Blue Heron’s heart stuttered in her chest, her stomach going tight. She set her bowl to the side and stood. “The last thing I need is Spotted Wrist’s protection. Where’s Big Right?”

“I think he’s taking a nap.” The warrior gestured with his war club. “Now, we’re going to close the door, make sure that no one else bothers you tonight. So, you be a good lady, eat your stew there, and get a good night’s rest, yes?”

She gaped as they pulled her plank door closed.

“Lady?” Smooth Pebble asked, rising to stand by Blue Heron’s side. “They can’t do this!”

That sensation of falling kept expanding through her gut. “I think they just did.”

“This is … is unthinkable! You’re Red Warrior Mankiller’s daughter! Descended from Black Tail! Sister to the tonka’tzi!”

Blue Heron staggered back, sank onto her dais, blinking in disbelief. “He must think that doesn’t matter anymore. And that means he’s moving on the Morning Star House as well as River House. The stupid fool! Doesn’t he understand that this will split the city in two? He’s gone too far. There’s nothing left now. Wind, Five Fists, Columella, and I have to fight. We have no choice.”

“You’re locked in here,” Smooth Pebble reminded. “Held prisoner by his warriors.”

“I’m not the thief. He can’t take me prisoner. Not for long. I’m too high in the…”

She and Smooth Pebble stared at the door, hearing the sound of something liquid splashing against the planks.

“Someone empty a chamber pot?” Blue Heron muttered. “Do they seriously think that I’m going to worry about a little insult when I’m faced with the potential destruction of the city?”

Smooth Pebble crossed to the door. Fingered some of the liquid that seeped through the cracks in the planks. “Hickory oil.”

She tried the door, finding it tied off and blocked from outside. “Hey! Open this!”

The warrior outside called back, “We learned this from you. Remember how you got us away from the Keeper’s so you could get what was left of that thief?”

“What’s he talking about?” Smooth Pebble asked, still pushing with all her might against the door.

“Piss in a pot!” Blue Heron cried, leaping to her feet and racing to the door. “You open this! That’s an order. I’m Lady Blue Heron. Daughter of—”

“We know,” came the harsh answer. “Too bad it’s the middle of the night. Wonder how long it will take before someone notices? Huh, too bad. Maybe if you lived in a place with fewer society houses and more neighbors, you’d have a chance of being heard, but yell all you like.”

Pushing on the door, she found it tightly secured. Didn’t matter that she and Smooth Pebble both were straining as hard as they could. However the warriors had secured them, the planks didn’t budge.

She heard the crackle of the flames heartbeats before she smelled the first of the smoke.

“Too bad there’s no way out the back,” the warrior called. “But we checked that day we ransacked your house. One way in, one way out.” A pause. “Oh, my. The thatch on your roof just caught fire. I wonder how that happened?”

Blue Heron stepped back, staring up. She could hear the characteristic sound of fire in thatch, had heard it too often before. The first wisps of smoke worked their way through the bundles over the door.

“Let us out!” Smooth Pebble bellowed, pounding on the planks.

Above the flames, all Blue Heron could hear was the combined laughter of the watching warriors.