It Dreams in Me (10 page)

Read It Dreams in Me Online

Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: It Dreams in Me
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They both eased to the ground and stretched out on their bellies in the trail. When she started to ask a question, he placed his fingers against her lips and shook his head.
It didn’t take long, perhaps another thirty heartbeats, for the
two men to part. Flint walked off in the direction of camp. The unknown man headed south at a trot, as though in a hurry to leave.
Sora waited until Flint had walked far out of sight before she murmured, “Who was the other man? Did you know him?”
Strongheart shook his head. “But the fine cloth he wore definitely marked him as a member of the Black Falcon Nation.”
“Could you see him clearly? What did he look like?”
“He was a short with hunched shoulders and had rotted front teeth.”
Like a knife had been thrust into her belly, she felt the stab of recognition. But … it couldn’t be … Stammering, she asked, “D-did his nose twitch constantly? Like a trapped rat’s?”
Strongheart nodded. “Yes, do you know him?”
For no apparent reason, her voice shook when she responded, “It might have been Red Raven.”
“Who is he?”
“Sea Grass’ spy.”
“Is she Water Hickory Clan?”
“Yes, she’s the matron of Oak Leaf Village. Flint’s home village. Sea Grass was Skinner’s mother.”
Strongheart moved closer to her to whisper, “How did Red Raven know where to find Flint?”
A sharp pain stabbed right behind her eyes. She rubbed her forehead. “Flint told him?”
Strongheart reached out, took her hand, and pulled it away from her forehead. He whispered, “We should go.”
He picked up his cracked cup and dusted it off as he got to his feet. Taking her hand, he silently led her up the trail through the dappled shadows, heading away from camp.
WINK WALKED AROUND THE EDGES OF THE BROAD PLAZA, glanced at the chunkey game playing out on the field, and went straight for the War Chief’s Mound with her guard close at her heels. Clearwing’s head kept turning to take in the game, and she could tell he wished he were out there practicing with the other warriors.
People crowded the edges of the field, their eyes alight, hissing when the calls went against them, cheering when their clan won. They watched Wink pass, but no one dared to speak with her.
As she strode past the huge cooking pots that smelled of opossum and fresh spring herbs, her empty stomach knotted. She had not been eating well, or sleeping well, for that matter—and there was no relief in sight … .
Cheers went up, and from the corner of her eye she saw the chunkey stone, round and about the width of her hand, rolling like the wind for the far end of the field. Warriors raced after it. When they hit the casting line, they launched their spears.
Clearwing made a deep-throated sound of excitement, and Wink stopped long enough to allow him to see who scored. Water Hickory Clan played against Shadow Rock Clan today. Whoever hit the stone earned two points. Whoever’s spear landed closest to the stone earned one point. If this were a real chunkey game, the opposing teams would be playing for a deadly serious reason, perhaps to break a tie vote in the Council of Elders, which would determine whether or not they went to war or established a new alliance with an enemy nation.
Clearwing hissed and waved a hand when Water Hickory Clan scored the point.
Wink said, “They always have superior players.”
“That’s because they practice constantly, Matron. We are too busy planting and harvesting our fields to keep our skills honed.” He was a medium-sized man with a square face and dark serious eyes. He wore a red knee-length warshirt.
“Yes,” she replied absently, and continued toward Feather Dancer’s mound. “Regrettable.” Her thoughts were on other things—things no one but she and Feather Dancer knew.
To the north, in front of her, stood the War Chief’s Mound. Over the past three winters they’d undertaken several mound-building projects, both here and elsewhere in Black Falcon country, that would have been impossible before Sora’s marriage to Rockfish. The wealth generated by that Trade relationship had given them stunning new abilities. As they raised mounds so that Grandmother Earth could touch fingertips with her daughter, Mother Sun, their lives improved dramatically. It was as though the gods saw and approved. The bright fabrics, elaborate copper and silver jewelry, and glittering shell beads were testaments to a time of riches beyond anyone’s belief.
It also made them targets. Every greedy nation on earth wanted some of their wealth—that was the essence of the dispute with the Loon Nation over the gathering grounds.
As she marched up the steps of the War Chief’s Mound, her green dress blew around her legs, revealing the flashing copper anklets she wore.
She stepped off onto the mound top, and Feather Dancer ducked beneath his door curtain and bowed to her. Small in comparison to the other elite buildings in Blackbird Town, the War Chief’s House was fifteen paces square and constructed of massive upright cypress logs. The roof soared four times the height of a man.
“War Chief,” she greeted, “is everything ready?”
“Yes, Matron.” But his wary eyes scanned the mound and the plaza below.
Wink turned to Clearwing. “Warrior, while I am here, the war chief will guard me. I have another duty for you.”
Clearwing blinked as though confused; he generally stood right outside Feather Dancer’s door, but he said, “Yes, Matron?”
“Find Tern. Tell her I wish to speak with her tonight, then return as soon as you can.”
“Tern? Elder Bittern’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, Matron.” He trotted away.
Feather Dancer held the door curtain aside for her, and she ducked into the dim firelit house. The elderly man on the far side rose to his feet and dipped his head to acknowledge her. At least fifty winters old, he had a full head of dark gray hair and a deeply wrinkled face.
She nodded in response, but waited for Feather Dancer to enter before she proceeded.
In a low voice, Feather Dancer said, “High Matron, this is Raider. He comes as emissary from Chief Sand Conch, high chief of the Loon Council.”
Wink strode across the floor to greet him, and to her surprise
he gracefully dropped to his knees and kissed her sandals, saying, “I understand, High Matron, that this is a sign of respect among your people.”
“Yes, it is. I appreciate the gesture, but it was not necessary, Raider. Please rise.”
He grunted as he got to his feet and seemed to be favoring his right hip. The rapid two-day trip from the Loon Nation had apparently left it aching.
Wink held out a hand to the sitting mats spread around the fire in the center of the Feather Dancer’s house. “Please, sit and have some tea. I’m sure you had a difficult journey.”
“Yes, it seems my aging body is no longer well-suited to skulking through the underbrush in the Black Falcon Nation.”
Feather Dancer crouched and dipped up two cups of tea from the pot resting on the hearthstones. As he handed one to her, then one to Raider, he said, “Matron, do you wish me to remain, or stand outside the door?”
“Remain, War Chief. I may need your advice.”
Feather Dancer nodded, but he remained standing while she and Raider settled onto mats. No one was certain what to expect, least of all Wink. She was in unknown waters, floundering for a shore she could not even see, let alone imagine the coastline of.
“High Matron,” Raider said in a mild elderly voice, “Chief Sand Conch wishes me to tell you that he received your message and looks forward to the arrival of your peace emissary. He is grateful that you wish to end the war, but he does not understand. If you did not wish a war, why did you attack one of our villages, burn it to the ground, and hunt down every fleeing survivor you could find? These do not sound like the actions of a woman seeking peace.”
Wink gave him a short nod. “The attack was not under my
orders, Raider; in fact it went against the orders of our Council of Elders. The attack was undertaken strictly by the Water Hickory Clan. They alone are responsible.”
His brows lifted. “I see. And what should we tell our people? That the Black Falcon Council of Elders cannot control its own clans?”
Feather Dancer took a step forward, prepared to defend her against the insult, but Wink held up a hand. “No, War Chief, Raider’s question is fair.”
Raider tipped his head in gratitude, but said, “High Matron, would it be possible to have the war chief guard the door? I would hate to have him crush my skull out of some reflex before we’d finished our discussion.”
Wink nodded to Feather Dancer, and he went to stand by the door.
She looked Raider over more carefully. Chief Sand Conch had chosen his messenger well. The man’s age and mild manner smoothed over the effect of his lightning-charged words.
“Let us speak straightly, Raider.”
“Of course, High Matron.”
She set her untouched tea cup on the hearthstones. “I’m not sure we can control the Water Hickory Clan. I heard only a few days ago that the new clan matron had ordered her warriors to attack Fan Palm Village.”
Raider jerked forward with his eyes wide. “When?”
“I don’t know. The death of Chief Short Tail, who led the attack on Eagle Flute Village, will delay Sea Grass, but she’ll select a new leader very soon. I believe the attack is inevitable.”
He squeezed his eyes closed. It took him a few moments to collect himself. Finally, he asked, “Why do you tell me this?”
Wink waited until he opened his eyes before she said, “Because I need your help to stop it.”
“My help? I don’t understand.”
“The Council of Elders voted not to Outcast Water Hickory Clan from the Black Falcon Nation—it is more afraid of civil war than of war with the Loon Nation—but I will not stand by and watch more innocent people murdered.”
By the door, Feather Dancer shifted positions, spreading his feet. Raider cocked his head curiously. “What are you proposing?”
“An alliance.”
Behind his eyes, she could see his souls start to walk down the same paths hers had been walking for a quarter moon. “Between what parties, High Matron?”
“There is only one clan I
can
control. My own.”
Raider peered at her through narrowed eyes for so long that she had to clamp her hands to keep them from fidgeting. Finally, he asked, “What will your people say about this?”
“They will say that I have set Shadow Rock Clan up against Water Hickory Clan. They will accuse me of betraying the Black Falcon Nation. They will say I have initiated civil war.”
“And afterward?” he asked in a mild voice. “Will you continue as high matron of the Black Falcon Nation?”
What he meant was would they kill her for it.
She tilted her head. “That remains to be seen.”
Raider drank his tea.
Wink looked at Feather Dancer. His face showed no emotion at all, though he must be wondering why she had not briefed him on this plan before the meeting.
The truth was she couldn’t trust anyone with this information. If a breath of it got out and made it to Sea Grass …
Thank the gods Rockfish agreed to leave his three hundred warriors here. I only pray that’s enough.
Wink lifted her chin. “My emissary, Rockfish, has orders that he and his party are to remain in Fan Palm Village as your hostages until you willingly release them. If you allow
it, Rockfish will act as my voice in any negotiations between our peoples.”
Raider fingered his cup. “You trust him that much?”
“He is the husband of our missing chieftess. I trust him that much.”
Raider frowned at the fire for a time. He seemed to be trying to decide what could be safely said. Finally, he looked back at Wink. “Very well, High Matron, if you are willing to risk your life and your clan, we agree to consider your proposal. In exchange, may I give you some information about the Water Hickory Clan. It is, I believe, information you are unaware of.”
Anxiety knotted in her belly. She glanced at Feather Dancer and noticed that he’d taken a step forward. “Please.”
“Almost one moon ago, your high chieftess came to Eagle Flute Village, supposedly to negotiate with our chief, Blue Bow, for the release of eleven hostages we were holding.”
“Yes, Sora never appeared. I know, and I deeply regret any misunderstandings—”
“If I am not mistaken, the version of the story you know came from Chief Blue Bow.”
She stared at him. On the night he died, Blue Bow had told Long Fin that Sora left camp with Walking Bird, but before they arrived, she had disappeared into the trees. His scouts had tried to track her, but she was too shrewd for them. They never saw Sora again. Walking Bird entered the village alone, told Blue Bow that he was a willing hostage sent by Sora as a promise that she would appear within five days. When she didn’t, they killed Walking Bird.
Where did she go? White Fawn was killed during that crucial time period.
“Most of my version came from Blue Bow. Why?”
“Chief Blue Bow was a cautious man. Fearing he might
need the details later, for leverage, he did not tell your son the whole truth.”
“Does it matter now?”
“It may.”
Feather Dancer took two steps forward, and Wink nodded to him to come all the way. He’d been there, after all, with a party of thirty warriors. Sora had ordered Feather Dancer to camp outside Eagle Flute Village while she and Walking Bird went in to see Chief Blue Bow alone. Feather Dancer had never forgiven himself for obeying that order.
“What happened?” Feather Dancer crouched on the opposite side of the fire, and the thick scars that wormed across his face gleamed.

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