People of the Fire (74 page)

 
          
 
Two Smokes raised his eyebrows. "I don't
know. White Calf dedicated all of her life to the study of Power. Her mind was
very keen, so why did Power choose the boy? Why not someone used to Dreaming,
who had a whole lifetime of it? I don't know."

 
          
 
Tanager hesitated. "My warriors have been
reporting. The Short Buffalo are hunting. That's why we've had so few raids.
They've been making meat. When they make a kill, they strip it and dry it, and
carry it down to the main camp on
Clear
River
at the Red Wall."

 
          
 
Two Smokes gave her a questioning glance. She
looked away, avoiding his eyes.

 
          
 
"What do you think, Tanager

 
          
 
"I think they're having a ceremony."
She considered for a moment, frown lines deepening. t4 If it looks like they're
going to leave in the next day or so, I'm going to have to hit them hard, keep
them up in the mountain.”

           
 
"And this could affect Fire Dancer?"

 
          
 
She continued to hesitate and nodded. "It
could." Her cool stare probed. "I, too, had a Power Dream. You know
how the wind comes up in the afternoon, blowing from the west?"

 
          
 
Two Smokes nodded.

 
          
 
"In two days, several of my warriors will
start fires in the thick timber. Part of holding the enemy here is to trap them
in the flames. The Red Hand are used to fires. We live with them. These plains
people?" She lifted a shoulder. "If we can get them to panic, perhaps
some may be trapped in the black timber. Others will be scattered, easy to
destroy."

 
          
 
"You know how dry the trees are? The
brush? Everything?"

 
          
 
She nodded. "That's why I think it will
work. The Dream told me. Wait four days and light the fires. If the enemy
starts to leave, we've got to attack, keep them up here in the right place. At
the last minute, we'll have to pull out, leaving them to the flames. I've
already set up decoy parties to lead them into the thick timber and get them
lost. There are places where the deadfall is piled pretty thick."

 
          
 
Two Smokes experienced a flutter in his heart.
"Of course! He's the Fire Dancer."

 
          
 
"What?"

 
          
 
"His Dreams. Especially the one where the
forests are burning. We . . . well, we don't have much time."

 
          
 
She placed a hand on his arm. "Only a
very few know of this. I've kept it secret. Power Dreams are not to be shared
freely."

 
          
 
He nodded and placed a hand on hers. "I
am
berdache
. I understand."

 
          
 
At that moment, wolf walked out from the
sunshade. Fire Dancer, hollow-eyed and haunted, crawled out on trembling hands
and knees. His features appeared pale in the light.

 
          
 
"Two Smokes? We need
sweetgrass
.
We have a lot to do."

 
          
 
A tightness formed in Two Smokes' gut. "I
think things are beginning to happen."

 
          
 
Tanager swallowed and nodded.

 
          
 
The place consisted of nothing more than a
cove in the rock. On each of three sides, the walls of the mountain rose.

           
 
Pinkish-gray granite reflected the light of
the setting sun. The sky streaked in tinges of reddish orange. A small spring
surrounded by willows seeped into the boggy soil, draining the hollow. Aspens
rattled where the slight breeze touched them. A tangle of fir masked the bottom
of the rock while thick grass swished around their legs.

 
          
 
Two Smokes grunted, drawing Fire Dancer's
attention. The old
berdache's
expression looked
strained and rivulets of sweat streaked his lined face. Gratefully, Two Smokes
settled with a grunt, rubbing hands on his knee. He winced and looked up.

 
          
 
'Tm not sure I can make it down the trail.
That last kick Blood Bear gave me . . . well, it's never hurt so badly."

 
          
 
The black wolf made a circle of the spot,
sniffing here and there, marking territory.

 
          
 
Worry settled around Fire Dancer's heart. He
worked his lips, looking around. "Maybe it'll heal. We have a little time
yet." Then the rushing pull of the Power filled him, driving him, prodding
at his mind with pointed urgency.

 
          
 
“You sit. I'll make us a sweat lodge." So
saying, Fire Dancer set his pack down, making sure the Wolf Bundle rested on
top, unencumbered. Anxiety shot through him. How could Blood Bear have been
such a fool?

 
          
 
With a flake taken from his pouch, Fire Dancer
waded into the muck around the seep, hearing his feet squish in the soft moss.
Using the sharp edge of the flake, he cut willow stems loose, Singing for the
plant's soul. Sloshing out, he I stripping the leaves, driving the sharpened
ends of the willow into the soft ground, bending them over in a large cross set
east to west and north to south. These he tied in the middle to support the
weight of the hides they'd carried. The frame work created a low dome.

 
          
 
Next he unrolled the thin hides, settling them
in ph make a sealed shelter. From the rubble below the slope collected rocks
and cut more willow to make hearth sticks with which to handle hot rocks from
his pack, expertly spinning them to create tire This he fed until he had a
cracki
to heat.

 
          
 
Wolf sat, tail around his legs, watching.

           
 
"We haven't eaten," Two Smokes
pointed out.

 
          
 
"Not for days." Fire Dancer smiled.
His appetite had vanished at the sight of White Calf's corpse. So much had
happened. So little time remained—and so many doubts.

 
          
 
Reverently he picked up the Wolf Bundle,
placing it where it would be safe. He dumped the contents of his pack on the
ground, slogging once more through the muck to fill the pouch with water. Drips
formed along the tight seams Two Smokes had sewn with such care; nevertheless,
the bag held water. This he hung from a tripod made of dead aspen that he
placed inside the sweat lodge.

 
          
 
Finally, he raised his hands to the filtered
sunlight and stripped his clothing off. Two Smokes stood, shucking out of his
berdache's
dress. He, too, raised his hands, eyes closed as
he offered a prayer to the air.

 
          
 
Fire Dancer used the sticks to carry hot rocks
into the sweat lodge. Two Smokes ducked through the door, favoring his maimed
leg. As he settled the hanging over the door, the interior of the lodge went
black.

 
          
 
"We must purify ourselves, clear any
taint from our minds and bodies." So saying, Fire Dancer Sang to the Power
of the Wolf Bundle, to spirits of earth and air and water, and reached into the
hanging bag. With the end of his prayer, he cast the water onto the stones,
hearing the sizzle as steam rose to fill the lodge.

 
          
 
In one corner of his mind, Elk Charm called.
Frantically, he blocked it out, willing himself to forget. The old battle began
again. Sights and sounds, memories, it all rushed to clog his brain while he
began to sweat. His stomach growled, longing for a warm stew. One by one, Fire
Dancer forced the images from his mind, trying to clear the confusion.

 
          
 
Two Smokes' chanting soothed, creating a link
from which Fire Dancer could expand. He let himself drift with the chant,
repeating the words, feeling the Song massage his soul. Four times he cast
water on the hot rocks until his skin tingled and his lungs cried out.

 
          
 
Time seemed to drift away in the heat and
purity of the lodge. Each of his muscles slipped into a lax feeling of unity.

           
 
Around him, the earth pulsed. Through the
lodge, he could feel the Power of the Wolf Bundle.

 
          
 
When that unity flowed through him, around
him, he sighed and let the moment exist.

 
          
 
He crawled from the lodge, almost staggering
as he stood and sucked the clean night air into his fevered lungs. His skin
prickled with the feel of the breeze on his body.

 
          
 
Wolf stood waiting, a shadow in the darkness.

 
          
 
Two Smokes crawled out and lay still in the
grass, breathing deeply.

 
          
 
Fire Dancer raised his eyes to the heavens,
lifting his arms to beseech the
Starweb
above.
"Hear us. We come to renew the Wolf Bundle, to make whole what has almost
died. Help us, Wise One Above. Help us, Wolf Dreamer. We seek to make new what
has been abused."

 
          
 
He waited, eyes to the sky, a terrible worry
pressing down on him. Can I do it? Am I strong enough? What if I fail? He could
feel the Power, waiting. Unbidden, the memory of Blood Bear sinking to the
ground, the powerful body gone numb, settled in his mind. I'm not the one to be
meddling with things like the Wolf Bundle. White Calf should be here. I'm lost.

 
          
 
"Help me," he croaked. A dread feeling
spread.

 
          
 
Wolf padded up to stand before him, those
terrible yellow eyes locking on his. The animal grunted, prodding him with a
hard nose before backing off and snorting. Wolf lifted his muzzle, eyes closed
as if in prayer.

 
          
 
Fire Dancer winced, picking up the one dart
he'd brought with him. How could he do this? Wolf's presence loomed in the
night, waiting. The Dream had been explicit. He'd seen, felt, and now he must
do. He turned, driving the dart the wolf's side. The big black animal
staggered, sidestepping before it fell. Blood pooled under the muzzle as the
lungs drowned in the rush from severed arteries. The wolf's sides ceased to
labor. The yellow eyes stared sightlessly.

 
          
 
Fire Dancer's breath caught at the feeling of
the animal's soul as it flinched and lifted free from the body. He dropped to
his knees, remembering wolfs warmth during the blizzard. He ran fingers over
the sleek coat, feeling the warm flesh beneath. He'd owed his life to wolf—to
the Watcher. A twist of grief formed to ache in his soul.

 
          
 
Forgive me. It's the way. You knew. Like a
betrayer, he stared at the convulsing animal—pierced by a pain as acute as if
he'd driven the dart into his own flesh. A Dream image flashed through his
mind, replaying the scene of a sheep netted in a trap, the club rising. He
shook himself, forcing it away, knowing the way of death, of the floating
freedom.

 
          
 
Two Smokes began to Sing and together they
chanted, feeling the lightness, feeling wolf's soul rising into the air, an old
animal whose life had come to the end of the Circle.

 
          
 
With trembling hands, Fire Dancer used the
sharp dart point to cut the body open and remove the heart. This he lifted to
his lips and drank, hot blood salty on his tongue. "I am the Wolf Dreamer
. . . and I am not."