People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (54 page)

She had seen worse when the mighty storms blew in from the gulf. Then high winds and tornadoes blew down vast swaths of trees, often creating impassable barriers to travel.

Trust me.
She had spoken those words with such conviction to Heron Wing.

Turning, she glanced back in the direction of Split Sky City. By now her friend would be fully aware of her treachery. She would have discovered the missing war medicine and realized what Morning Dew had done in the night.

She resettled the bulky pack on her back. The hardest part had been slipping the Powerful box into several layers of blankets without touching the wood and polluting it. Then she had managed to stuff the entire thing into a large burden basket. Even so, her heart pounded, fully aware of the Power her people placed in such boxes. With it, her husband had taken Alligator Town.

And now I carry it.
That notion awed and humbled her.

She could imagine Green Snake and the Seeker’s dismay when Heron Wing told them what she’d done.

I had no other choice
, she told herself. The feeling of betrayal wouldn’t last. They would remember that she was a captive—that her husband and family had died on the squares. They would understand the ramifications of her need to return the war medicine to her people—how it would change the Power of Great Cougar’s raid. And as they did their anxiety would rise with each passing moment.

In her souls, she could see Heron Wing’s expression: disappointment and the sting of betrayal behind her eyes.

“How did I grow so close to her?” she wondered, thinking back to her mother’s dead body, the rising smoke as White Arrow Town burned, and how people screamed as they died. Her husband’s pleading eyes burned in her souls. She could almost feel his ghosts reaching out to her.

“You will all rest easier now,” she told the restless dead. “Morning Dew has set her feet on the path that will save her people.”

She trudged resolutely forward, imagining the look in Great Cougar’s eyes as he unwrapped the war medicine. She could already hear the awe in his warriors’ voices as they realized what she had brought them.

Assuming, of course, that she could find them. She glanced around at the endless maze of forest. This section was old, cavernous beneath a high canopy. The boles of the mighty black oaks and interspersed beeches were huge, the diameter of a dwelling.

Leaving Split Sky City hadn’t been so difficult. She’d taken a small canoe at the landing, paddling as far west as the river would take her, and then headed west as the last of the rain moved south. Oriented by the first of the
constellations, she’d made her way in the direction she expected to find Great Cougar. He would be coming in a direct line, seeking to do with speed what stealth could not.

But knowing he was here, somewhere, in the dense forest was one thing. Finding him would be another. His warriors would be filing along in a long line, not a wide front. And even with a screen of scouts, what were her chances of crossing their path?

She ground her teeth, staring about as she hurried along. He had to be out here somewhere.

Trust me.
The words lay like stale cornmeal on her tongue.

“What if I miss them? What if I finally reach the divide?”

“You won’t,” a Chahta voice said.

She turned as a warrior stepped out from behind one of the huge trunks. The man smiled grimly. “My apologies, Chikosi, but it appears that you will be spending the rest of your life in a Chahta town.”

She grinned. “That, warrior, is my greatest hope. Do not let my Chikosi dress fool you. I am Morning Dew, daughter of Sweet Smoke, and matron of the White Arrow Moiety. You must take me to Great Cougar immediately. There is no time to lose. I have much to tell him.” Her smile hardened. “And it won’t be pleasant for either of us.”

I’m sorry, Heron Wing, but my final betrayal will wound you to the quick.

The last light of day had dimmed to a feeble glow in the west as Trader, Old White, and Swimmer climbed the wooden stairs to the
Hopaye
’s palace atop the Panther Clan mound. At the palisade gate they were
met by a young man in a white hunting shirt and allowed to proceed.

Inside they passed the panther guardian posts, and each touched his forehead as they walked toward the doorway.

“It is Old White and Green Snake,” Trader called cautiously.

“Enter,” Pale Cat called from within.

They stepped into an ornately furnished room with animal totems, boxes, and wall hangings. Trader took a moment, marveling at the carved wooden posts along the benches, each done in the form of a Spirit totem. A fire burned in the central hearth; the altar behind it had been decorated with hides, feathers, and wooden statuary.

Then he turned his attention to the people. Pale Cat sat just behind the fire, wearing a white smock. He had his hair pulled back, a copper panther rising above the bun behind his head. Copper ear spools gleamed in the light.

Beside him sat a diminutive old woman, her hair white and pulled back. She wore a blue dress decorated with pearls, mica beads, and quillwork embroidery of a panther on the breast. Beside her sat a muscular warrior, his face tattooed with forked-eye designs. The man wore a breechcloth, and a raccoon-hide cape hung from his shoulders. His eyes gleamed like obsidian in the firelight. At sight of Trader, his gaze sharpened.

Heron Wing rose, forgetting any decorum, and hurried over to Trader, shamelessly taking his hands.

He stared into her worried eyes, smiled, and reached up to barely stroke his fingertips over the ugly bruise on the side of her head. “He’ll pay for that.”

“Old White told you?”

“No,” the Seeker muttered, “I thought I’d let it be a surprise.”

Trader gave him a reprimanding stare. “Of course he told me.”

“Come,” she said. “Meet the rest.”

Trader reluctantly let go of her hand and followed her over to the fire. He hesitated long enough to say, “Swimmer? Over here. We’re in enough trouble. I don’t need you lifting your leg on anything.” The dog obeyed, sniffing the matting as he trotted over to lie down beside Trader.

Old White seated himself amidst a crackling of bones. Then he sighed and extended his hands to the fire. “It was a most difficult day for everyone involved.” He glanced at the dwarf woman. “You must be Chief Night Star. I’m Old White, known as the Seeker.”

“Are you truly the Seeker?” the warrior asked before the woman could speak. Skepticism lurked behind his eyes.

“That I am.” Old White smiled at him. “And who are you, Raccoon Clan warrior?”

Trader clapped his hands, crying, “Blade! You are the one they now call Blood Skull.” Trader smiled. “It’s been a long time.”

The warrior turned his eyes on Trader again, slowly shaking his head. “It is difficult to believe that you have come back. Why, after all these years?”

“To balance Power,” Trader said. “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.” He studied the man. “You’ve grown since I saw you last. What were you? Twelve summers? We had some good times on the stickball field.”

“I used to look up to you.” Blood Skull nodded. “I reconsidered that after you failed to kill Smoke Shield. Why did you run?”

“Because I would not be the same kind of man as my uncle.”

For a long moment, Blood Skull studied him through those hard eyes, and then he nodded. “That I can accept . . . even if I don’t like it much.”

A voice called from the door, “It is Seven Dead.”

“Come, Tishu Minko,” Pale Cat called.

Seven Dead entered the room, crossed the floor, and seated himself. He glanced around, fixed on Trader, and froze.

“My greetings, old friend.” Trader reached out, taking the man’s hands.

“Green Snake?”

“Most know me as Trader now. But yes.”

“But from what Blood Skull tells me, you’re up with the Yuchi.”

“Then I am in two places.”

“Why? I mean, what are you doing here?”

“We’ll get to that,” Pale Cat said. “I needed you all to be here so that we might have a unified front at the Council meeting tomorrow. A great many decisions must be made.”

“How is the man that Smoke Shield clubbed?” Old White asked.

“Clinging to life.” Pale Cat steepled his fingers. “Black Tail and I attended to him. The eye is lost forever, and his face is destroyed. We have done all we can for him.”

“Will he live?” Night Star asked.

Pale Cat shrugged. “That is up to his souls. When I left, they were still wandering.”

“And Violet Bead?” Heron Wing asked.

“She’ll heal.”

“Any word of the White Arrow medicine box or Morning Dew?” Trader asked.

“Nothing,” Pale Cat said.

“Morning Dew has the White Arrow war medicine?” Blood Skull asked angrily.

“Perhaps”—Old White spread his hands—“we should start at the beginning. It is a very long story. At the end of it, we must decide how to deal with the Council tomorrow.” He glanced from face to face. “The future of
our people hangs on what will happen in the tchkofa. And there are surprises yet to come.” Then the old man began to speak. Once again, Trader marveled at his eloquence.

When Old White finished his narration, the room was silent.

Blood Skull spoke first. “So we don’t know if the Contrary serves you or not?”

Old White gave him a level stare. “She serves Power, Warrior. She always has.”

It was Seven Dead who said, “And the Chahta are truly coming?”

“They are,” Trader replied. “As Old White told you, taking the war medicine was going to be our way to blunt his wrath. That, and the return of Morning Dew.”

Blood Skull dropped his head into his hands. “Gods, he was right all along?”

“Who?” Night Star asked.

“Smoke Shield. He had placed the warriors in position to ambush Great Cougar when he arrived. The plan was to lure the Chahta into the fields south of the city; then warriors would close from two sides, crushing him in the middle.” He glanced up. “Flying Hawk thought he’d lost his wits, and asked me to move as many warriors as possible to the north to meet Green Snake’s Yuchi warriors.”

“There are no Yuchi warriors,” Trader growled. “What would lead him to think
I
could command a Yuchi war party?”

“He wasn’t smart enough to hear the Yuchi messenger out,” Old White mused.

Seven Dead asked, “What do we do about Great Cougar’s raid? If Morning Dew has taken him the war medicine, it will be a sign to him, proof that we’re ripe for slaughter.”

“It is not too late,” Old White said. “Great Cougar is no fool. If we can talk to him before anyone looses an arrow, peace could still be negotiated.”

“Smoke Shield will hear none of it,” Blood Skull said through gritted teeth.

“There are higher authorities than Smoke Shield,” Old White replied.

“Don’t count on Flying Hawk,” Seven Dead told him. “He’s scared to death of Smoke Shield.” He glanced at his brother. “I’m surprised that the old man had the courage to act behind the war chief’s back and send warriors north.”

“No matter how this works out, Smoke Shield will kill him when he finds out.” Blood Skull rested his chin on his hands, lost in thought. “Why would the Contrary tell him we had the war medicine? Why would she warn him?”

“For reasons of her own,” Trader told them. “The Seeker is right. She serves Power.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Heron Wing added. “Smoke Shield murdered a man under the protection of a white arrow. That alone should make Power turn its back on him.”

“Patience,” Old White added gently. “Power didn’t bring us here just to abandon us.”

“You place such faith in Power?” Night Star asked, her oversized jaw thrust out.

Old White smiled. “After all that I have seen, good chief, I do. Somehow, this is meant to serve us.”

Trader sighed. “Even after all this, yes, I put my faith in Power.”

“And you’d better be right,” Seven Dead told him darkly. “From here, tonight, it doesn’t look like it favors you at all.”

“Ah,” Old White said with a smile. “That’s why we need your help. It’s a small thing, really. We just need you to sneak us into the tchokfa tomorrow. Well, us and a few others. Oh, and a couple of other items as well.”

Trader swallowed hard. Tomorrow, it would all come to an end. One way, or another.