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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

People of the Owl: A Novel of Prehistoric North America (North America's Forgotten Past) (17 page)

BOOK: People of the Owl: A Novel of Prehistoric North America (North America's Forgotten Past)
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M
other Sun painted the evening sky with a marvelous display of red-orange, a fire spun through the clouds. The western horizon—glowing like a liquid blaze—outlined the high peak of the Bird’s Head in a purple silhouette. So, too, did the marvelous sunset cast the curving ranks of house-topped ridges in perfect profile. The effect could be likened to a series of peg teeth on a giant jaw fixed to snap shut and crunch Wing Heart’s very bones.
She sat under the worn ramada on the southern side of Cloud Heron’s ominously dark house and watched Thunder Tail, the Speaker of the Eagle Clan, striding away, his long frame like a dancing shadow in the elongated dusk.
“
Perhaps it is time to renew our obligations to Owl Clan,
” he had said. “
We have a long and mutually beneficial history, your clan and
mine. With the death of an old Speaker, perhaps it is time for Eagle Clan to marry one of its young women to a new Speaker.”
“I suppose that you have someone special in mind?”
she had asked. His somber expression had belied nothing as he fingered the bear claws hanging from his necklace. Always a canny player was Thunder Tail.
“
I would have you consider young Green Beetle
.
She is just a woman, strong, with a smile that would melt your young man’s heart.
”
To that she had offered some platitude concerning Green Beetle’s charms but remained noncommittal.
Thunder Tail had watched her carefully, searching for some reaction as he added, “
As Speaker for Eagle Clan, I can tell you that we are happy to extend this offer. Elder Stone Talon was most impressed by your young man and his quick wit He is well-spoken and astute. Our Elder enjoyed the gifts of carved stone that he presented to us from upriver. He has prevailed at countering the Swamp Panthers’ raid. Our Elder has asked if you would be amenable to considering both Green Beetle and our support for your young man’s rapid confirmation to the Council.”
“How could you ensure this?
” she had asked in an offhand manner. “
Snapping Turtle Clan might object.
”
He had smiled warily. “
I think I can assure you that Frog Clan would side with us. I assume that you still have Clay Fat’s ear, and the Elder, Graywood Snake, would back you. That leaves Snapping Turtle Clan alone to complain. Together we have a five-to-one vote in the Council.
”
There it was. Everything she could have wanted. Her influence and authority were ensured through the foreseeable future. Cloud Heron, may the spirits embrace his souls, would have approved.
Just the thought of him brought a spear of grief to her heart. She couldn’t help but glance back at her brother’s silent and brooding house. Had it really been six moons ago when she had used her influence to move her brother into the dwelling next door to her own? His wife, Laced Fern, had indicated that she could no longer keep a husband who didn’t provide for her children. Not that any great love had been lost between the two of them. Cloud Heron had done his duty, siring four children for her clan. The alignment had been politically dictated at the time. Laced Fern had been Cloud Heron’s second wife, a woman ten and four turning of seasons his junior.
Cloud Heron’s illness had robbed him of his manhood. Laced Fern, given her age, couldn’t be blamed for wanting a younger man, one who could still plant his seed in her womb and contribute his support to Eagle Clan through his hunting and fishing skills. That was, after all, what men were for.
And now Eagle Clan, once ready to strip her of her position and cast her away like a broken clay pot, wished to renew their alliance.
Wing Heart rubbed her shins, her callused hands sliding on the nightshade-scented bear grease she had spread over herself to thwart the humming cloud of mosquitoes. She glanced off across the large plaza to where people still crowded around the Men’s House. The Swamp Panthers’ corpses had provided great entertainment during the day. Bit by bit they had been cut apart, burned, kicked, urinated upon, and otherwise abused. The camp dogs had gorged themselves on the bits of human flesh that had been scattered far and wide. While their horrified ghosts couldn’t cross the mounds, or lines of ash, they could still see what befell their abandoned bodies from the trees just west of the Bird’s Head. It was hoped that they would be so appalled that they would return home to haunt the dreams of the living Swamp Panthers. During nightmares they would tell their kinsmen never to repeat such a foolish thing as attempting to raid the Sun People.
But did it ever happen that way? Wing Heart sighed, raising her eyes to stare at the fading light in the clouds. They had darkened now, purpling into a bruised color. As if it were the sunset of her own life, she had grown cynical. She knew the Swamp Panthers, had even traded with their leader, Jaguar Hide. In all of her years she had never heard of an enemy war party being turned back because of pleading ghosts.
Warfare was a thing that people did. That was all. Over the years she had come to the conclusion that abusing the dead was done for the surviving victors’ self-satisfaction. It gave them a way to savor the triumph, prolonging the time until they had to return to the ordinary and await the news someday in the inevitable future that some kinsperson of their own was being cut apart and defecated upon in the enemy’s village.
“Lost in thought?” a low voice asked from the shadows behind her.
She turned and recognized Mud Stalker as he stepped out from behind her house. “I would have thought you would have been in the middle of the festivities.” She indicated the Men’s House. “One of your young warriors killed an enemy this morning.”
Mud Stalker walked over and lowered himself beside her, his mangled arm cradled in his left hand. “I think such doings are more for the young.”
Did he mean that, or was it a way of building a rapport with her? “Were we ever that young?”
He gave her a curious appraisal, the lines of his face deepened by
the shadows. “Once. I think.” He chuckled. “I have been told that your brother is taken care of.” He glanced over his shoulder at the silent house. “I assume the final rites are to be soon?”
She nodded. “As soon as my son is finished with his responsibilities to the People.”
Mud Stalker lifted his good hand to chew on his thumbnail. Who was this new, companionable Mud Stalker? What was he after?
“He will be a great Speaker.” Mud Stalker’s attention was fixed across the distance.
“Thank you. I am proud of him myself.”
“I salute you, Wing Heart. It is a great coup, a victory well worth savoring, much more rewarding than what our clanspeople are doing over there.”
“I thank you again, Speaker.”
He turned hard black eyes on her. His expression, never anything to contemplate with any pleasure, now appeared strained and slightly bitter. “Let us be blunt. We are old adversaries, you and I. Just this once can we speak as two people without the dodging and darting?”
The old wariness warmed her insides. “Can we?”
He laughed again, sounding genuinely amused. “I’m not sure, but let us try. I have a question.”
“I may or may not have an answer.”
“This son of yours, Mud Puppy? Did he really have a vision?”
That caught her by surprise. “The boy has always been peculiar. Half of the time I’d be forever grateful just to marry him off—even if it was to someplace like Yellow Mud Camp. He’s young, Speaker, and I don’t know if he’s going to end up as a great Serpent ten winters from now, or as a half-wit.”
“And the vision?”
“I can only say that he was right about Ground Cherry Camp, and the Serpent believed him.”
“But you don’t? Interesting.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He continued to stare at the crowd gathered around the Men’s House. “What a curious fate Power has made for you. One son is almost a god—smart, clever, and daring. Look at him over there. People are already calling him Owl Clan’s new Speaker. Even his rivals admire him. Those who should resent him are delighted to share their time with him. Two days ago, even though he should have been locked away in the Men’s House in preparation for the attack, he still managed time to bring me a piece of copper.” He reached into his belt pouch and held up a flat disk
of the metal. “Told me he remembered that I had that necklace of copper beads and that this would make the perfect pendant for it.” He turned it in the fading light so that she could see the turtle image engraved in the burnished metal. “It is indeed perfect.”
“My son takes his duties to the People very seriously. It is the pleasure of my lineage and clan to make you happy.”
Mud Stalker took a deep breath, replacing the heavy copper pendant into his belt pouch. “Thunder Tail was here earlier. I saw him walk away after a long talk with you.”
“He was.”
Spying on me, are you, old enemy?
“He brought Elder Stone Talon’s regards. Apparently her joints are bothering her.”
“I heard that Thunder Tail mentioned a potential marriage.”
She fought to keep the shadow of a smile from the corners of her mouth. Now she knew where this was going. “He mentioned one of his nieces, a girl named Green Beetle. I’ve seen her. She was just made a woman two moons ago. She’s comely, a bit busty for my tastes, but that just makes milk for babies. I’ve seen her coming in from the river a time or two. She’s the one who likes diving for clams. Most of those pearls that Eagle Clan has been passing around were found by her.”
Mud Stalker was silent for the moment, calculating the investment Thunder Tail was making in the offer. Green Beetle, more commonly called Pearl Girl, had been the topic of considerable speculation. Not only was she Stone Talon’s first granddaughter, but pretty and charming to boot.
“But I think my son is interested in Spring Cypress,” Wing Heart added with a slightly wistful tone. “I may have to look in that direction. We have obligations to Clay Fat and Rattlesnake Clan. If Clay Fat were to ask for White Bird, I’m not sure but that I wouldn’t have to give him.”
She let that dangle. Snakes, it would break the boy’s heart if she promised him to someone besides Spring Cypress. But here, for the moment, she could set a trap.
Mud Stalker tripped it when he said, “Clay Fat and old Graywood Snake can be reasoned with.”
“They can?”
“I might have a little influence. You have obligations to Rattlesnake Clan, but they have obligations of their own.
Assuming that White Bird and the girl wouldn’t do something so silly as to elope—”
“Never! At least, White Bird wouldn’t. As to the girl? Well, whatever lengths she might be tempted to try wouldn’t matter. It takes two to elope.”
“Indeed.” He ran his fingers along the scar tissue that ridged his ruined arm. “Thumper gave you a good child when he was your husband.”
“Is that a fact?” she countered crossly. “Did you know that the night of his brother’s return, Mud Puppy was engrossed with a cricket?”
“Some would say that was Power speaking through the boy. Rumor has it that he had a great vision up on the Bird’s Head in the middle of that storm and that Ground Cherry Camp was only part of it. Even the Serpent is overjoyed to have the boy following him around.” Mud Stalker made a tsking sound. “I think the boy’s eccentricities are something else.”
Like half-wittedness? Is that what you are banking on, that my second son is an idiot?
Mud Stalker slapped his knee with his good hand. “What if I could persuade Clay Fat to look elsewhere for a husband for Spring Cypress?”
“Why should I want that?”
How much is he going to offer
?
Mud Stalker’s eyes followed the first of the fireflies that rose over the grass in the plaza. The dancing yellow lights made magic in the gathering gloom as they hovered and whirled. “I might be willing to consider Pine Drop and Night Rain.”
“Pine Drop and …
both of them
.”
“It’s not the first time a man has had two sisters for wives.” He sounded so casual about it. “A great deal of prestige could come to a young man who was thought of so highly as to have a clan offer two of its daughters.”
She turned the notion over in her mind. Agreeing would cause a major realignment of influence among the clans. It would be a solid bonding with Snapping Turtle Clan, a reciprocal agreement that changed the entire political landscape. “Pine Drop is freshly widowed, isn’t she? She was married to that Alligator Clan boy.”
“Blue Feather. He died of some lingering illness two moons ago. Nothing she or the Serpent did seemed to shake the evil from the man. It is my belief that White Bird would make her smile again.”
“And Night Rain is …”
“Her little sister. Sweet Root’s youngest.”
“Yes, I remember. She was just declared a woman. I saw her in the Women’s House last moon. She’s a doe-eyed thing in her virgin’s dress.”
“Both are hard workers. They would make a solid household for a man. It’s not like taking two wives from different clans or lineages. They wouldn’t be jealous or spiteful of each other. These are sisters.
They already like each other. They wouldn’t distract White Bird into tearing his hair out.”
BOOK: People of the Owl: A Novel of Prehistoric North America (North America's Forgotten Past)
11.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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