People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (6 page)

“You
dug
that out of the ground?”

“I did.” Trader smiled grimly. “And barely got away with my life. At sight of the copper Snow Otter was drooling with greed. You could see his very souls change before your eyes. He tried to lull me into dropping my guard—offered me food, drink, even his virgin daughter—but I sneaked away in the night.” Trader reached out to touch the cool metal. “It was but the first of the lessons I learned. Greed will make even good men bad, and Snow Otter was never good to begin with.”

“How did you keep it safe?”

“By moving. Never stopping in one place for any time, and when I did—like at Red Wing Town—I never left the canoe landing. The copper remained buried in the packs . . . and I never so much as stepped beyond the sight of my boat.” Trader reached out to ruffle Swimmer’s ears where the dog lay between them. “Gods, it was torture! Traders travel around driven by the desire to Trade, to wander around the towns, see what’s available, talk to people, hear the gossip. And there I was, virtually chained to my canoe, fearful of someone sneaking a peek at my packs, learning of the existence of that fabulous piece of copper. And the one time I did stop, I had to hide it first, bury it in the forest. And still I worried.” Trader shook his head.

“A tough lesson to learn.”

Trader nodded. “The next lesson I learned was that with amazing wealth comes incredible loneliness. I could trust no one—well, save Swimmer here—let alone share their fire or companionship. As a Trader I had sought wealth all of my life. With it, I figured to become an admired and influential man. I would have had people look up to me and say, ‘Look! There goes Trader! The greatest man on the river.’ ”

“So you wanted to be a chief after all?”

Trader shook his head. “I could have stayed among the Sky Hand and remained a chief. Granted, I murdered
my brother, but I still would have been an influential, if despised, member of my Chief Clan. No, I just wanted to be great, admired, and envied, but without the cares, responsibilities, and dangers of being a chief. Fool that I was, I thought it could be that simple.”

“Power never gives something for nothing, Trader.”

“As I discovered that night when the Contrary led Old White to my camp.” Trader smiled at his memories. “I’d chosen an abandoned village two days’ travel south of Cahokia. The place is believed to be cursed with witchcraft. Staying there didn’t bother me. I don’t believe in Dehegihan witches or their ability to harm me. So there I was, just starting to relax for the first time in days, when I hear voices out of the night. It’s the Contrary guiding Old White up the creek to my camp.”

“She had camped there before?”

“Oh, no. Two Petals is Oneota, from farther north. She’d never been out of her own village, let alone to the south. She was following one of her visions . . . and it was leading her straight to me.”

“You had your fire right at the landing?”

“Of course not. It was screened by an old house wall, completely out of sight.” Trader glanced down at Swimmer. “I was ready to reach down Swimmer’s gullet and pull his bark right out of his throat. Thought maybe they’d miss seeing the landing and my canoe in the darkness, but Two Petals directed the Seeker straight to it. As soon as they landed, Swimmer got loose, charging off to bark at them. So, what could I do?”

“You could have killed them.”

Trader arched an eyebrow. “I considered it. Especially after the Contrary told me to my face that she knew about the copper. Somehow, High Chief, I just couldn’t drive an arrow through her chest. Call me a fool.”

“Power would have made you pay if you had.”

Trader laughed. “Then I’m lucky that Power loves fools. A terrible storm moved in that night, but as soon
as I could, I sneaked to my canoe, loaded all of my goods, called Swimmer, and slipped away.” He cocked his head, thinking back. “The thing is, the Contrary told me things before I left . . . things that haunted my Dreams.”

“About?”

“About going home. About my life, people, a woman . . . things she couldn’t possibly have known, but did.” Trader shrugged. “I just couldn’t get her and the Seeker out of my head. Curiosity will be the death of me one of these days.”

“So you went after them?”

“I caught up with them on the Mother Water in the Illinois territory. The Contrary knew I would. Being around her is just downright eerie sometimes.”

“And the war medicine?” Born-of-Sun indicated the intricately carved box.

“We were among the Kaskinampo.” Trader fingered his chin as he stared thoughtfully at the carvings on the wood. “And there I was, still burdened by the secret of the copper. How do you disguise a piece of copper that big and heavy? All of our packs had to be portaged around the three falls on the Tenasee River—and right under the eyes of the wary Kaskinampo. They have towns at each of the falls and monitor the Trade. So, back to the question: How do you keep a piece of copper like that from being discovered?”

“You found a way?”

“We gambled . . . and lied a little.” Trader cocked a knowing eyebrow. “Copper is heavy. Can’t really disguise the fact. So what’s heavy and square? Something you don’t want anyone to see? We told the Kaskinampo straight out that we were carrying a great stone with Power carvings on it. They didn’t even question since we were traveling with the Contrary. We told them we wanted a more secure box to carry it in, something to
better hold the Power. And it led us right to the war medicine box.”

Trader smiled. “The Kaskinampo chief, Buffalo Mankiller, was most anxious to get us out of their territory. He wasn’t any more keen to have Power loose among his people than the Kala Hi’ki was to have us among the Tsoyaha. So he brought us a box . . . that one there.”

“But why the war medicine?” Born-of-Sun asked. “Surely they could have found something less valuable.”

“Buffalo Mankiller told us that from the moment they obtained it from you, the Sky Hand war medicine brought misfortune. From the beginning we made it clear to the Kaskinampo that we were headed for Split Sky City and the Sky Hand. The Kaskinampo thought the box should go home to its people.”

“For a price,” Born-of-Sun added.

“For a price,” Trader agreed.

“And what did you Trade?”

“I Traded Buffalo Mankiller a piece of silver, a large nugget from the far north. The man I got it from had obtained it from a Cree.”

“Never heard of the Cree,” Born-of-Sun admitted.

“They live way far to the north. But Buffalo Mankiller was happy. Value for value. And no sooner had we Traded than the box began to Sing to the Contrary. From that moment on the Kaskinampo almost turned themselves inside out getting us out of their territory and into yours.”

“Which you would have passed through but for the Kala Hi’ki?”

“He saw us coming and sent War Chief Wolf Tail to capture us.” Trader shrugged. “The rest you know. But I think that Power needed us to come here. Two Petals needed the Kala Hi’ki to help her control her Contrary Power.”

“And you, Trader? What did you need to come here for?”

Trader gave him a dry look. “If you will recall, the Kala Hi’ki wanted to torture me to death in one of your squares. When he learned I was born of the Chief Clan of the Sky Hand People, he wished to repay me in kind for what my people had done to him. And you, High Chief, made me wager my life and freedom on the outcome of a chunkey game.”

“Which you won.”

“Barely.” Trader grinned. “Fact is: I had to face my death. The moment I made that decision, I began to understand. Things like copper, status, and glory are distractions. I am only here to serve Power. It will do as it will with me.”

“As part of the wager on our chunkey game, you said you wished a runner to be sent to Split Sky City to tell the Sky Hand Chikosi that Green Snake was returning. Is that still your wish?”

“It is.” Trader sighed. “I would like the Council to know that I am coming home. Perhaps with that copper, I can make retribution for murdering my brother. After all these years, I would like to make peace with Rattle’s ghost and with my clan.”

“I have a man in mind. His name is Bullfrog Pipe, named for the magical pipe that slew monsters. He is brave, a man of honor. He will bear the sacred white arrow of peace before him.” Born-of-Sun hesitated. “They will honor the white arrow, won’t they?”

Trader nodded. “To do otherwise is to incur the wrath of Power. Believe me, the Chikosi take Power very seriously.”

“Then I shall send Bullfrog Pipe to you in the morning.” Born-of-Sun stared longingly at the copper. “Who knows how this shall play out? But perhaps, if you succeed, we will enter a period that will be good for both of our peoples.”

“I think, High Chief, that is why Power sent us on this journey. Somehow, we must make an offering that returns Power to balance. I think red Power has been in ascendance. Perhaps it is time for the white to prevail.”

“That may be.” Born-of-Sun continued to stare thoughtfully at the copper. “And if it is the case, I am more determined than ever to keep you here. You could still work for the white Power from Rainbow City. And perhaps I could obtain this copper.” He shot Trader a sidelong stare. “Do you know how tempting this is? What it would say about me if I displayed such wealth in my palace? Such a piece of copper would literally shout out to the world: ‘Here is the greatest chief on earth!’ ”

“I thought you loved your children.”

Born-of-Sun turned quizzical. “My children? Of course I love them! They are my world.”

“Then why would you destroy them?” Trader asked. Born-of-Sun might be the high chief of the Western Yuchi, but he loved his children like a fawning grandmother. “Because I think anyone who takes this copper—who tries to own it—will find their souls being devoured by it in the end.”

“Is it eating your souls, Trader?”

“It was. Until I thought you were going to tie me inside one of your squares to hang spread-eagle and naked while you Yuchi burned my flesh, cut out my eyes, and slowly sliced me to ribbons.” Trader stared thoughtfully at the gleaming metal. “Old White, the Seeker, once told me that no one actually owned copper . . . that it just passed through our lives. Power wishes this piece of copper to reach Split Sky City. I am only its means of getting there.”

“For what purpose, Trader? The Sky Hand are our enemies. You Chikosi have been at war with us ever since you conquered the Black Warrior country. Why should we allow Spirit Power to strengthen them?”

“When we played chunkey, High Chief, I played for peace.”

“And ended up a rich man. My people—almost as one—bet against you.”

Trader grinned. The winnings, most of the Western Yuchi’s wealth, filled two large storehouses. More pots, blankets, jewelry, and baskets of food than he and Old White could ever take with them in their two canoes. “We will give it all back, High Chief.”

“All of it?” Born-of-Sun asked, surprised.

Trader sighed. “For most of my life I have served the Power of Trade. As I have so recently discovered, we serve Power’s plan. Not our own.”

“And what do you think that plan is?”

Trader stared back and forth between the war medicine box and the copper. “I don’t know, High Chief. All I know is that I have to get both the copper and the medicine box to the Chikosi at Split Sky City. And once there, I suppose it is in the hands of Power . . . and the Contrary.”

In the Dream, Morning Dew ran. The pounding of her bare feet on the hard clay plaza was to the beat of a thousand voices screaming their support. She could feel the crowd as she raced through White Arrow Town—sense them, like a giant living creature. The spirit of the moment gave her flying feet speed to rival a deer’s.

She knew this day! It had been the happiest of her life. This was the marriage chase, and behind her, Screaming Falcon was running his heart out in pursuit. She could feel his presence, sense the rhythm of his feet in time with the rapid beat of her heart.

With the agility of a cougar she threaded her way through White Arrow Town, rounding buildings, leaping baskets, and darting between buildings. The sunlight seemed to pulse with each tearing breath in her lungs. Still she ran, goaded by the roar of the crowd, jubilant in her speed and cunning.

The Dream was so real it filled her with a bursting joy. All the love that brimmed in her souls rose golden within her. Soon, as was inevitable, Screaming Falcon would lay his hand on her shoulder, symbolically claiming her as his bride. At that moment she would turn and shower the love within her on this most special of men.

From the time she had been a little girl, she had known that this day would come. She and Screaming Falcon had been born for each other. The joining of their lives
would begin a mythic union. She knew the truth of that each time her eyes met his. The swelling in her heart, souls, and loins could not be denied. Together, they would bring their people to greatness.

Driven by her endless love, she ran, following the tradition of her people. The longer and harder the chase, it was said, the greater the resulting marriage. And this chase, she swore, would be the stuff of legends.

Onward she pounded, avoiding knots of spectators who had come to share the festive event. Among the crowd were Natchez chiefs or their representatives, renowned Traders, Priests, and the greatest chiefs among the Chahta: the noted high minkos. She barely glimpsed the joy in their eyes as she raced past, felt the pulsing emotion they exuded.