Nine

In the first light of dawn, Blue Heron hitched her way up the steps that led to the Council House Gate on the southern terrace of the Morning Star’s great mound. She should have had her porters carry her litter up the wide staircase, but the thought of them climbing the frosted steps, perhaps slipping and falling, had sent a deeper shiver through her than the cold and damp morning air.

She’d take her own chances, thank you.

Blue Heron might no longer be the Four Winds Clan Keeper, but somehow, despite all the commotion, upset, and chaos that had been unleashed by near civil war when Morning Star temporarily lost his soul to the Underworld, she’d managed to hold on to her palace where it stood in the western shadow of the Morning Star’s great mound.

She had also kept her spy ring.

Not that she had the political clout that she used to, but she had something just as important: wealth and status.

In addition, many of her spies had been with her for years. Her network of informants was so deeply ingrained in Cahokian society that for many, passing along information was just the way it was. Since they were in the habit, she wasn’t about to do anything to discourage them.

Therefore, when a runner had arrived a couple of fingers before first light, she’d been among the first to learn that the precious corn stores had burned. Her agent—one of Crazy Frog’s people—had no clue as to who the culprit was.

Her best guess: Spotted Wrist.

He had the most to gain by delaying the expedition’s departure for distant Cofitachequi since his ploy to murder Fire Cat had spectacularly failed.

Unless she could weasel someone into Spotted Wrist’s hive of close-knit warriors, the new Clan Keeper’s culpability was going to remain speculative. At least for the moment. In the end these things generally came to light provided that she put enough effort into ferreting out the truth.

She hesitated at the top of the steps and nodded to the two bundled and shivering guards at the Council Gate. Took the moment to catch her breath and massaged her hip where it throbbed. The joint hadn’t fully healed since she was abused by the Quiz Quiz who’d taken her hostage last fall. One of the barbarians had beaten her so badly it was a miracle that her souls had stayed with her body.

Bad business, that. If she’d had her way, an army would have been sent downriver to burn the vermin out of their lands, towns, and fields. Rising Flame and Wind had vetoed the idea, having hanged the leaders in a square to be tortured to death and sent the rest of the rank-and-file warriors packing in disgrace.

Lavender hung above the bluffs on the eastern horizon and shaded into deep purple in the west. The image was of a bruised sky: ominous and a presentiment of trouble to come.

Below her—beyond the clutter of litters, porters, and awaiting embassies—the Great Plaza was stirring to life. Traders, craftsmen, and vendors of all kinds had braved the darkness and chill to arrive early for the best spots to set up their stalls. Or in the case of the poor, just to throw out a blanket upon which to place their wares, food, and other Trade.

Frost had turned the Morning Star’s perfectly groomed chunkey courts hoar-covered and pale in the morning light. Ice crystals shimmered on the beaten grass, and the central World Tree pole looked like a giant spear where it rose in the center of the Great Plaza.

As far as she could see, the city was emerging from the night in a patchwork of farmsteads cluttered around mound groups with their raised temples and palaces. A haze of brown smoke, like a blanket, hung low over the city, fed by a thousand morning cook fires as people warmed themselves and heated breakfast. So thick was it this morning that she could barely make out Black Tail’s tomb at the bend in the Avenue of the Sun. Beyond that, River Mounds City, the Father Water, and Evening Star Town were obscured.

Walking through the gate, she plodded to the Council House where it stood on the west side of the courtyard. News of the burned warehouse would spread like wildfire. So far as Blue Heron knew, it would only be her, her sister Wind, and Five Fists, the Morning Star’s head of security, who had been alerted. And they only knew because she’d sent Dancing Sky to alert Five Fists and dispatched Soft Moon to appraise Wind of the situation while Smooth Pebble made a quick breakfast and helped Blue Heron get dressed.

Entering the Council House door, she was pleased to find a fire had been kindled and was crackling its way up to a roaring blaze.

Tonka’tzi Wind stood before the fire, her hands offered to the heat. A thoughtful look possessed her age-lined face as she stared into the leaping flames. She’d wrapped her hair tightly into a bun at the back, pinning it with polished copper feathers that caught the light in bronze splendor. A fabulous spoonbill-feather cloak hung from her shoulders.

“Good morning, sister,” Blue Heron greeted as she stepped over to the fire and mimicked Wind’s posture as she basked in the fire’s warmth.

“There’s no chance that this is a mistake? The food stocks are really burned?”

“Crazy Frog’s not exactly the most trusted of my sources. If it were something with a political angle, like information that would compromise a competitor of his or High Chief War Duck’s, I’d have my doubts. In this case, he wanted me to know first, expecting, correctly, that I’m going to reward him for the privilege.”

“The Morning Star is going to be mightily displeased. Think there’s a way we can discover who did it? Prove it?”

“Proof? No. We both know who had the most to gain by this.”

Wind smiled wistfully, her narrowed eyes gleaming in the reflected firelight. “Spotted Wrist will argue that it could have been any of the Houses or clans, that not all of the nobles ‘honored’ by the chance to carve colonies out of the eastern wilderness are happy about the prospect.”

“Of course he will,” Five Fists agreed from the door as he entered the Council Room. The old warrior had a thick bear-hide cloak over his shoulders; the warm war shirt he wore fell to just above his knees, and tall trail moccasins shod his feet. One of the warriors who’d accompanied him down from the Morning Star’s palace closed the door, ensuring they’d be left in private.

“Good morning, Tonka’tzi,” he greeted Wind. Then nodded at Blue Heron. “And to you, Keeper.’

“Not these days, but I appreciate the gesture,” Blue Heron replied.

Five Fists grinned, the effect anything but reassuring given his offset jaw. “Mark it up to habit. In this room we know who has Cahokia’s best interests at heart.”

“You were the one who got Rising Flame declared matron,” Wind reminded.

Five Fists shot her a look. “The living god plays his own game. I only follow orders. For his own purposes, or perhaps for the needs of Power, he has made his choice. But our immediate problem is the burning of the expedition’s food. This will set the departure back several weeks. Require additional levies on the Earth Clans, necessitate that they surrender more of their dwindling winter reserves. And worse, they’ll have to confiscate additional food stocks from the dirt farmers in their districts. Supplies are already tight in many areas in the city. It will stir unrest.”

“As if we haven’t had enough as it is,” Wind mused.

Blue Heron gave Five Fists a meaningful glance. “Pick your unrest. We need to get the discontents out of here. The longer they’re here, the more trouble they’re going to brew up.”

Five Fists’ lips twitched with distaste. “Tonka’tzi, how soon could you replace the burned corn? Get the expedition out on the water? Even if they were short a couple of weeks’ worth of ration?”

“Five days?”

“Make it three.”

“Can’t. Cahokia’s a big place. It’ll take a day to send the runners out. Two days—assuming every chief complies immediately—to gather the sacks of corn, and at least two days for the outlying areas to pack it all down to the canoe landing.”

Five Fists made a face; it did nothing for his already unpleasant features. “I will explain the situation to the living god. If Morning Star so inclines, I will dispatch a couple squadrons of warriors to hurry the Houses along, and perhaps to knock some heads in the process.”

Blue Heron pulled at the wattle under her chin. “I think I can have the expedition on the water in two days.”

“How?” Wind looked startled. “You been holding something out on us?”

Blue Heron arched a challenging eyebrow at Five Fists. “I need your promise. You’ll give your word. Both of you. If I get this done, you’ll back me up. I’m going to have to go way out on a limb … one that could be cut off behind me.”

“What limb?” Five Fists couldn’t hide his skepticism. “If you’re asking us to get you reinstated as Clan Keeper, that’s out of our hands. That’s up to Matron Rising Flame.”

“I’m well aware of where the authority lies in that regard. No, I need you to swear on your souls that if I can fill the expedition’s granary in two days, you’ll see that every last kernel of corn, every last sack of dried squash, every nut down to the last hull, is repaid, in addition to another tenth portion in payment for the loan.”

Wind and Five Fists glanced back and forth suspiciously.

“Just who are we borrowing this from?” Wind asked. “I know for a fact that you don’t have enough stocked away in your granary to cover that much.”

“I don’t, but Columella does. It’ll empty the Evening House granaries, leave her destitute if we renege on the deal.”

“And she’ll do this?” Five Fists asked warily.

“She might,” Blue Heron replied. “If I ask her. But I’m not asking until I have both of your promises that she’ll not only have every morsel replaced, but another one portion in ten thrown in for her trouble. And it will be delivered to her warehouses within ten days.”

Five Fists had a distasteful scowl on his face. Wind had crossed her arms, staring thoughtfully at the fire.

“That’s just a single day’s delay,” Wind finally said. “Might have been that much of a postponement even if the storehouse hadn’t burned.”

“The added benefit is that it keeps Spotted Wrist off balance. He thinks he’s gained at least a week to finally figure out how to force Lady Night Shadow Star to marry him.”

Wind gave Blue Heron a crafty wink. “You have my word. All the food returned, and one part in ten more as payment.”

“Mine, too,” Five Fists agreed. “Even if I have to send warriors to seize it from anyone foolish enough to try and evade the levy.”

“Then I need a batch of your best porters and a warrior escort,” Blue Heron told them. “The sooner I get to Evening Star Town, the faster I can talk Matron Columella into this.”

“What are you going to promise her?” Wind asked.

“Absolutely anything she wants.” She gave Five Fists a cunning smile. “I’d offer her my life as a guarantee, but that might be too much of a temptation for you. You could cripple Evening Star House on the one hand, and finally get me permanently out of your hair on the other.”

Five Fists gave her his crooked-jawed smile. It came off as anything but nice. “You’re right, Keeper. Don’t tempt fate. Now, get going. I’ll have two tens of warriors ready at the foot of the stairs by the time you can hobble down to your litter.”

Blue Heron sighed, wishing she’d dressed in warmer clothing. Something told her it was going to be a cold day.

And then there was the problem of what Columella would say. Blue Heron had placed herself and everything she had in jeopardy. By refusing, Columella could cut her off and send her tumbling to a fateful crash.