Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear

It Sleeps in Me (5 page)

BOOK: It Sleeps in Me

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Black Falcon had given his life for humans.

She walked up the steps and knelt on the altar at his feet. As she spread her arms to him, she prayed harder than she’d ever prayed in her life.

“Blessed Black Falcon, please,
please
tell me this is all a lie.”

“SORA, YOU’VE BEEN UNDER A GREAT STRAIN—THAT’S ALL it is. War talk, eleven hostages taken, and the news of Flint’s death.”

Wink handed her a cup of hot tea and sat down on the opposite side of the fire. Sunlight streamed through the roof’s smoke hole and landed like a dropped scarf on the hem of Wink’s yellow dress. Woven from the inner bark of mulberry trees, the extremely fine threads had a silken, knobby texture that was very pleasing to the eye. Wink wore her graying black hair up today, in a bun on top of her head. It made her round face look moonish.

Sora clutched the tea cup in both hands. Wink’s personal chamber spread ten paces long by twelve wide. The plastered walls had been painted white and decorated with the images of the gods who watched over the Black Falcon People. To Sora’s right, Mother Sun’s golden hair streamed out from her face in flaming spirals. To her left, Comet People streaked earthward with their long blue-white wings tucked behind them. Over Wink’s head, on the wall directly in front of Sora, a stylized image of Black Falcon flying into Mother Sun’s heart blazed in brilliant shades of red, purple, and yellow.

“He said he still loved me, Wink. Why would he say that?”

“You and Skinner were never lovers?”

She shook her head vehemently. “Never. We both knew Flint would kill us if we so much as looked at each other fondly.”

“So it’s not that you didn’t
want
to be; you just knew you’d couldn’t risk it.”

Sora shrugged. The idea made her as uncomfortable today as it had ten winters ago. “I wasn’t interested in him, Wink.”

Wink grunted as though she didn’t believe her and threw another branch into the fire. As flames crackled up, she said, “Skinner has quite a reputation among the neighboring villages. Apparently, women fight to get beneath his blankets.”

“Why would that matter to me?”

War chiefs often acquired such reputations. Being great lovers added to their images as great men.

“Well, most women would at least consider it interesting,” Wink responded.

Sora massaged the back of her neck. Her muscles felt like chunks of granite. “What about the greeting?”

“He put his fingers beneath his nostrils. In many parts of our territory that salute is accompanied by a buffalo’s deep-throated rumble and is considered an honored salute.”

“It wasn’t just the fingers to the nostrils. It was the seductive smile, the expression on his face. Everything.”

“Oh, don’t be a dull-wit. What do you think Flint talked about after he left you? Who do you think he talked to?”

Sora sank back on her mat. How odd that it had never occurred to her that after the divorce, Flint might have revealed every detail of their life together … especially to his best friend, Skinner. Perhaps he’d kept nothing sacred.

Wink sighed at the hollow expression on Sora’s face and toyed with her tea cup, moving it in little circles on the floor mat. “Don’t look so shocked. Divorced people hurt each other. You know that.”

“Do you think Flint told him every private moment?” she asked.

“Probably. It wouldn’t be unusual.”

She stared down into the pale green liquid in her cup and murmured, “I’ve kept those moments locked in a sacred chamber in my heart. It’s just hard to believe he might not have.”

“Men are curious creatures, Sora. They don’t have the responsibilities that we do. Men can afford to be gossips; women can’t.”

Women were responsible for deciding when and what to plant, when to harvest, when to go to war. Women negotiated marriages to distant clans, established political alliances and critical Trade agreements. Men were responsible for hunting, fishing, and fighting—and making certain their sisters’ children received the proper upbringing. Even when a woman’s son ascended to the position of chief, he followed the orders of the clan matron. She always had the final word. The world’s welfare rested on women’s shoulders.

As the angle of the rising sun changed, the splash of sunlight that had been on Wink’s yellow hem crawled imperceptibly across the mat-covered floor toward the door curtain.

Sora watched it. Very soon, Rockfish and Long Fin would arrive for their scheduled meeting to discuss the jade brooch that sat in the painted box near the fire. They didn’t have much time.

“I swear to you that my reflection-soul is not out wandering the forest, Wink.” That’s what caused insanity—the reflection-soul drifted out of the body and got lost in the forest. Only a powerful priest could bring it home again and make it stay. “Something’s wrong with Skinner. It’s as though … he’s not Skinner.”

Wink exhaled so hard the tea in her cup rippled. “How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“After Flint left me, I never saw him again.”

“Three winters?”

“Yes.”

“People change. Three winters is a long time. Maybe he’s just a different person now.”

“But”—she struggled to say this right—“he reminded me so much of Flint. As though …”

Wink’s mouth quirked. “Stop it. Friends pick up each other’s
mannerisms. I mean, Blessed gods, every time I wave my hand to dismiss someone, it reminds me of you. Because I learned it from you.”

Wink was right; they frequently imitated each other. It came from a lifelong friendship. Sora tossed her head when she was angry in exactly the same way Wink did.

Wink glanced at her and hesitated before saying, “Flint was crazy. You know it. Every time he challenged someone to a fight because the poor man smiled at you, I saw the looks you and Skinner exchanged. You were always attracted to each other. Don’t deny it.”

“That’s not true,” she objected.

“Sora, everyone saw it, including me. Now that Flint is gone, maybe Skinner has finally decided to go after the woman he’s wanted for eighteen winters.” She leaned toward Sora with her graying brows lifted. “Did that occur to you? If he really did say ‘I still love you,’ maybe he meant it.
He
loves you.”

Sora stared at her. Of all the possibilities, that made the most sense. She took a long drink of her tea, hoping it would settle her roiling stomach. Made from the inner bark of the honey locust tree, the bitter brew eased nerves and purified the blood.

She whispered, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Perhaps you’d better start.”

Sora’s gaze drifted around the chamber. Pots and baskets lined every wall except for the wall behind Sora, where Wink’s sleeping bench stood covered with finely woven blankets. It was a narrow bench, designed for one person. After the death of her childhood love five winters ago, Wink had remarried, as was appropriate for a clan matron, but it had been purely a political alliance. Sora wasn’t even certain that Wink and Sumac slept together. They occupied separate chambers in the Matron’s House and barely spoke together in public.

Wink said, “I surprised you with that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Either I’m blind or—”

“You’re blind. You always were when it came to Skinner. Any
other woman would have jumped into his arms, but you ignored him because you were drawn to his insane friend. Incidentally, that says something about you that’s a little scary.”

Sora laughed.

They both sipped their tea, smiling at each other when their gazes crossed.

After a time, Wink said, “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, human frailties.”

“Skinner’s frailties?”

“Yes.”

Wink frowned into her tea cup. “He
was
a curious child. After his little brother died from that fever, Skinner barely spoke for two winters. Do you remember that?”

“Yes. I’d seen six winters, but I remember. After that, he always went out of his way to help any child in need.” She paused a long moment before adding, “He loves children so much I’ve always wondered why he never married and had his own.”

Wink gave her a bland look. “You’re
much
more blind than I thought.”

“Oh, Wink, I don’t think he’s spent eighteen winters pining for me. I think …”

Wink lowered her tea cup to her lap. “Finish that sentence. You think what?”

“Well, I’ve always wondered if perhaps he isn’t
berdache
.”

Berdaches had male bodies but female souls. They were divine bridges between Light and Dark, Male and Female, War and Peace. In most villages they were prized as sacred beings. Often, the greatest of warriors took a berdache as his wife.

Wink tilted her head, as though thinking about that.

Sora could not say how many times they’d sat like this—too many to count. After the death of her father, Sora’s mother had gone mad for a time. She vividly remembered her mother running up and down the hallway screaming and slamming her fists into the walls. Sora had been lying on her sleeping bench with hides
pressed over her ears when Wink had come in, curled up against Sora’s back, and stroked her hair softly. She’d seen seven winters; Wink had seen eleven. She didn’t remember them exchanging more than a few words, but Wink had been there every time her mother had burst in and started ranting at Sora. While Sora shivered, Wink had screamed back, trying to protect her. The love for Wink that had been born in Sora’s heart in those few terrible days would never go away, no matter what Wink did, or failed to do.

Wink said, “Tell me something? Skinner courted you right after you were made a woman, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. My mother gave many feasts to introduce me to elite young men. Skinner was always invited, but he was too timid for me. Too sensitive.”

“Really?” she said as though in disbelief. “That’s a part of him no one mentions these days.”

“Well, he’s a war chief now. I’m sure he doesn’t want that widely known.”

Out of respect for Skinner, she wouldn’t tell Wink, but she knew exactly why she and Skinner had never gotten together. He’d wept too often for her tastes, especially for a man destined to be a war chief. She remembered stumbling upon him in the forest one day when she’d seen ten winters; he was crouched before a wounded fawn, stroking its side with tears in his eyes. The fawn was near death, and Skinner turned to her and said, “
I did this! It was a poor shot!
”

Sora had blinked in confusion and answered, “We need the meat, Skinner. Kill it and let’s take it back to your village. Your mother will be proud of you.”

He’d jerked his chert knife from his belt, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and slit the fawn’s throat; but as its blood drained out onto the forest floor, Skinner had hung his head and silently wept.

At the time, she’d wondered how he would ever be able to kill an enemy warrior when he couldn’t even kill a fawn.

Voices sounded down the hall, and Wink said, “Your problem is easier to solve than you think.”

“How’s that?”

“When you see Skinner next time, you can either ask him straightly if he’s a berdache, or just invite him into your bedchamber and see what happens.” She picked up the painted box and headed for the door.

“Blessed Ancestors, do you have to be so blunt?”

“Yes,” Wink answered.

Sora sighed and followed her down the hall to the meeting room at the front of the Matron’s House. The house, which sat upon the second-largest mound in Blackbird Town, measured eighty paces long and thirty wide. Though this mound wasn’t nearly as tall as Sora’s, it still stood three times the height of a man. No torches lit the hallway, but a pale stream of light penetrated around the curtain that draped the front door.

As she walked, Wink said, “Incidentally, we must do something about young Touches Clouds. He stole his cousin’s knife yesterday.”

“How many does that make?”

“Three knives in one moon. Apparently he’s hiding them somewhere, because his family has repeatedly searched his belongings. They’ve found nothing.”

“Do you think it’s time to arrange a Healing Circle?”

“Yes. We can’t let this go on. Nothing his uncles say seems to make any difference to him.”

BOOK: It Sleeps in Me

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