Forty-eight

Blue Dove

“It’s about time!” I shout when Sunwatcher Cub finally strides around the corner of town and rushes toward me. His young face is red and he’s breathing hard. “What took you so long? Someone should have trotted out to meet us when you first sighted us coming down the road.”

As he strides forward, the ten warriors who escorted us home file around me and head back to their families in town.

Crane walks forward and I see him stare expectantly at Cub.

Cub ignores him and bows to me. “Apologies, Blessed daughter. Your father is in consultation with his priests and priestesses in the Great Kiva. He orders me to escort your party to his chambers to await his return.”

Something’s wrong. Fear tightens his expression. As Cub leads the way around the corner and into the plaza, dread fills me. The place is empty. At this time of evening, people should be sitting on rooftops or meandering across the plaza. The only living things I see are warriors strategically placed around the walls, as though guarding the people inside.

“What happened? Where is everyone?”

“There was a small disturbance in town. The White Moccasins escorted people to their chambers. They are safe inside.”

“What kind of a disturbance?” Wasp Moth says as he strides up beside me with his war club in his fist. “Where’s Stinger?”

“Nothing to worry about. Stinger is guarding the Blessed Sun while he confers with his priests and priestesses. Now, please follow me. I’ll take you to the Blessed Sun’s chambers. He’ll return short—”

“I know the way to my father’s chambers,” I say.

Cub bows again. “Yes, of course you do. However, your father ordered me to escort you there, so I have no choice.”

“Very well.” I flick a hand to him. “Go on, then.”

Cub bows respectfully, turns, and leads us across the plaza to the ladders to the town’s third floor where my father’s chambers are located. The Sunwatcher’s eyes keep roving around the town, as though he expects an arrow to lance down at any time, aimed for his heart. An arrow loosed by one of our own warriors.

Dear gods, what happened while I was gone?

When we reach the base of the first ladder, Wasp Moth stops in front of me and says softly, “With your permission, I will consult with Stinger and then organize the warriors in our party accordingly. I have the gut feeling Stinger needs them.”

“Yes, of course.”

Wasp Moth calls, “Iron Dog? Weevil? Guard the Blessed daughter and her party until they reach the Blessed Sun’s chambers, then station yourselves outside the doorway.”

Iron Dog nods and says, “Understood.”

Apprehension fills me. I feel as if I’ve just walked onto a battlefield. The fear hanging over the town is palpable. Part of it is the unnatural silence, as though the entire world has died, and I just don’t know it yet.

Cub scales the first ladder to the second floor, then up to the third.

I follow behind him. Maicoh, Crane, Tsilu, and then Tocho climb behind me. Iron Dog and Weevil are last in line, and they look impatient, as though they find Tocho’s plodding up one step at a time maddening.

When I step off the final ladder, I see Cub standing anxiously beside my father’s doorway with one hand out to the door. “Please, enter. We’ve spread elk hides out for your comfort, and there’s a warm pot of tea hanging from the tripod, as well as cups for your use.”

As I pull aside the leather door hanging and drape it over the peg to keep it open, I stare hard into Cub’s frightened eyes. Just above a whisper, I say to him, “Something’s wrong, I can feel it. You’d better not be to blame.”

A flash of surprise widens his eyes before he controls himself. “I don’t know what you mean.” When he nervously licks his lips, there’s a faint trace of guilt in the action.

“Go on, get out of here. Inform my father that we await his arrival.”

“Yes, Blessed daughter.” He bows and trots for the ladder down to the plaza.

When I step into Father’s chambers, distaste fills me, as it always does at the sight of the beastly paintings on the walls. I’ve never understood why he insists upon keeping these ugly alien gods close to him. A large firebowl blazes in the center of the room, and smaller firebowls sit at regular intervals along the walls. They cast a flickering red light over the life-sized monsters.

As I walk across the floor to the circle of elk hides spread around the large firebowl, the hideous pair of Black Ogres on the eastern red wall seems to move, to take a step toward me. Their ghastly toothy muzzles are open, revealing black throats that seem to drop forever into the darkest underworlds. The long obsidian blades in their right hands glint as though their hands just twitched, on the verge of stabbing me.

Ignoring them, I lift my chin and stalk across the floor to slump down upon the hides. Father’s sleeping pallet, covered with thick coyote hides, occupies the northern side of the circle. Beside it, a teapot hangs from a tripod, keeping warm over the firebowl. Gorgeous black-on-white cups are stacked close to it.

I watch Maicoh, Crane, Tsilu, and Tocho enter the chamber and glance around as though stunned to see their sacred thlatsinas here.

“I don’t believe my eyes,” the albino says as he wanders around the chamber. “Your father hates the thlatsinas and wantonly kills anyone who follows them. Why does he cover his walls with their faces?”

“To remind him of who and what they are. In this case, half-human beasts.”

“Yes,” Tocho sighs in a tired voice. “The policy of a man who spent many summers as a war chief collecting captives.”

I smile. “Exactly.”

Tocho’s hair sways around his face as the old man limps across the floor and sits down to my right. He’s shaking, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s exhausted from the long day, or because he’s dreading coming face-to-face with my father.

Instinctively, I glance at the door to make sure Iron Dog and Weevil stayed to guard me. In the light from the firebowls I can see their faces and tall white moccasins gleam where they’ve positioned themselves on either side of the door.

Crane stands rigidly just inside the chamber with his fists clenched at his sides.

“Join me, Crane,” I say. “Dip a cup of tea. You look like you need it.”

“I do. It has been a thirsty day.”

He walks across the chamber and crouches to my left to dip a cup of tea from the pot. When he brings it back and takes a long drink, his gaze strays to the girl, Tsilu, who stands peering up at the Black Ogres like a wide-eyed child who’s seen her first corn cake.

Far out beyond the town, an owl hoots.