People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) (39 page)

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

BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)
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“I think I must talk to Rides-the-Wind. Alone please.” Like a dutiful child, he rose to his feet.
Rides-the-Wind struggled up beside him. As he clasped Tsauz’s hand, Rides-the-Wind said, “If you need us, we’ll be awake for a time.”
She watched Rides-the-Wind lead the boy into his lodge.
After the door flap fell, Evening Star heard Tsauz say, “Please, I have to fly to the Above Worlds tonight, Rides-the-Wind. I must speak with Thunderbird. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
The old Soul Keeper was quiet for a moment; then he said, “Do you understand the importance of what you’re asking, Tsauz? What you do tonight may change your life forever. If you are not worthy, you may even be killed.”
“I understand, Elder.”
“Then come over here by the fire and rest while I send for Pitch.”
Wind Woman picked that moment to blast through the village, whipping the trees and churning up old leaves and sand. Several surprised warriors grabbed for their weapons, then laughed.
Evening Star closed her eyes.
She could barely stand to think of what lay ahead.
R
ain Bear crouched just inside Rides-the-Wind’s door and chafed. He’d barely begun to give orders when Pitch had summoned him away from Dogrib’s council of warriors and led him to Rides-the-Wind’s. Pitch had insisted it was important. Now that he was here, he was just sitting, and receiving occasional measuring glances from the old Soul Keeper.
A storm was moving in. Icy air gusted against the lodge, rattling the baskets to his right and buffeting the two red ritual capes that hung on the peg just inside the door. Until recently, this had been a storage lodge. Hide bags still hung from the ceiling poles, filled with fragrant herbs: sagewort for sore throats, ground aster root for pinkeye, bluebell for fever and heart trouble. He shivered. To his left, Tsauz lay curled on his side, staring at nothing. The fire in the center of the lodge cast a flickering gleam over his young face.
Rain Bear whispered, “Are you all right, Tsauz?”
He nodded and whispered back, “What are they doing now?”
Rain Bear turned his attention to Rides-the-Wind and Pitch, who sat cross-legged in the rear of the lodge. Both wore long white shirts decorated with leather fringes. The cup of Cloud People blood sat on the hides between them. Four beautifully painted leather bags surrounded the cup. As Rides-the-Wind directed, Pitch picked up a bag and poured something into the cup; then Rides-the-Wind stirred it.
Rain Bear whispered, “They’re pouring things into the Cloud Person’s blood.”
“What things?” Tsauz’s blind eyes shimmered orange in the firelight. He had bathed a hand of time ago, and his black hair glistened.
“I can’t tell. I’m not sure I’d know even if I were down there and could smell them. They’re probably secret ingredients used only by very holy people.”
Impressed by the gravity of his voice, Tsauz nodded. “My father won’t even let me touch the bags that contain his Healing plants. He says their Spirits will fly up and kill me.”
A powerful gust of wind rocked the lodge, and the walls squealed and shuddered.
“That’s good, Pitch. Let’s start building the spiral ladder,” Rides-the-Wind said.
“What ladder?” Tsauz hissed. “The ladder to the sky?”
Rain Bear struggled to keep the impatience out of his voice. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Rides-the-Wind shot him a censoring glare, then got up and duck-walked across the lodge to reach for a coil of ropes. He handed them to Pitch and pointed to the lodge cord. “You remember how to tie them?”
Pitch smiled thoughtfully. “How could I forget? When I climbed Grandfather Vulture’s ladder, I thought I was going to fall off and die. I remember everything perfectly.”
“Good.” Rides-the-Wind picked up the cup of Cloud People blood. “While you’re doing that, I’ll prepare Tsauz.”
Tsauz sat up, eyes huge. His black-and-white shirt coiled around his feet. “Is it time?”
“Almost.”
Rides-the-Wind got down on one knee beside the boy and looked him straight in the eyes, as though the boy could look back. “Now listen to me, Tsauz. No matter what happens, you must be strong and brave. Thunderbird values these things. And more importantly, if you show weakness, he might kill you.”
“My Spirit Helper might kill me?” Tsauz was rubbing his hands together.
“Oh, generally he doesn’t do it on purpose. Thunderbird gets annoyed with you, flips over in midair, and you fall off his back and die.”
Pitch was in the process of tying different lengths of rope to the ceiling pole. Since his son-in-law had only one usable hand, Rain
Bear shifted far enough to help him with the knots. Once hung, the short sections of rope swung around like dead snakes.
“H-have you ever known anyone who fell and survived?” Tsauz asked.
“One. A girl … many cycles ago. She accidentally screamed when Thunderbird dove after a particularly succulent Cloud Person—she said she just couldn’t help it—but it scared Thunderbird. He flew right into a mountain peak and exploded. She lived only because she jumped off at the last instant. The scars from the tree branches she hit on the way down never really healed.” Rides-the-Wind put the cup in Tsauz’s hand and clamped his fingers around it. “There’s one more thing.”
Tsauz croaked, “What?”
“You must call out to Thunderbird in his own language. Buffalo do this naturally, but it’s harder for humans. Here’s what the word ‘come’ sounds like.” Rides-the-Wind formed his mouth in a circle and made a rumbling sound deep in his throat. “Try it.”
Tsauz nervously smelled the contents of the cup, appeared to be thinking about it, then attempted to say “come” in Thunderbird. A high-pitched rumble-shriek vibrated his throat.
While he helped loop another knot, Rain Bear’s gaze returned to Pitch. He’d started threading feathers into the ropes, pushing the quills through the twining. Vulture feathers. They bobbed and twisted.
Rides-the-Wind looked skeptical. “That was good, Tsauz, but try to make it sound deeper, more like thunder.”
Tsauz swallowed hard, lifted his chin, and rumbled again, deeper this time.
It didn’t sound like thunder to Rain Bear. It sounded like they both had something stuck in their throats, which perhaps explained why Tsauz looked like he wanted to throw up.
Rides-the-Wind slapped him on the back. “Excellent. Pitch, are you ready?”
Pitch softly answered, “I’m ready, Soul Keeper,” and backed away from the ropes. He had a reverent, slightly frightened expression on his thin face. He wore his hair in a bun at the base of his skull, but black strands had come loose and tangled with his eyelashes.
Rain Bear noticed the beads of perspiration on Pitch’s skin, the wary dart of his eyes. It wasn’t the temperature in the cold lodge, nor was it any lingering fever.
Blessed Spirits, if this is bad enough to make Pitch sweat when I’m freezing half to death …
“Follow me, Tsauz,” Rides-the-Wind instructed, and started for the ropes.
Tsauz crawled after him.
“Sit right here on the hide.”
Tsauz knelt in front of the dangling ropes. Rides-the-Wind pulled the boy’s left hand from the cup of Cloud People blood and let Tsauz touch the different lengths of ropes.
“What are they?” Tsauz asked.
Rides-the-Wind leaned close to Tsauz’s ear and whispered, “They are feathered serpents.”
Tsauz jerked his hand back. “Why do I have to touch them?”
“Because they form a spiral ladder that soars into the Above Worlds like Grandfather Vulture. In a little while, you will need to climb them.”
“But I—I thought Thunderbird would come to get me, and I would climb onto his back and we’d fly away?”
“You must demonstrate your worthiness first. That means you have to climb these ropes into the Above World where he lives. Climb as high as you can. His home is beyond the Cloud People’s—almost to the Star People. Thunderbird will be watching.
If
Thunderbird admires your courage, he’ll meet you and take you flying.”
“What if I can’t climb high enough?”
Rides-the-Wind and Pitch exchanged a doomed look that Tsauz couldn’t see, but Rain Bear did, and it shivered his very soul.
“Elder?” Tsauz asked, and wet his lips. “How can I speak with Thunderbird if I only know how to say ‘come’ in his language?”
“If you climb high enough, Tsauz, you will be able to speak with every creature in its own language: deer, elk, Star People, even Thunderbirds. So. Are you brave enough?”
Tsauz replied, “I have to be. I have to ask Thunderbird to save my father.”
Rides-the-Wind nodded. “All right, then it’s time we went away.”
“Went away! What do you mean? You’re leaving me?” Tsauz lunged to grab a handful of Rides-the-Wind’s white shirt.
Rides-the-Wind pried the boy’s fingers off. “This is something you must do alone.” He clamped Tsauz’s fingers around the cup again. “Now, I want you to drink the Cloud People blood slowly, and when you feel you’re ready to climb, grab onto the longest rope. You’ll know when you’re ready for the next rope, and the next. Each will lead you higher into the Above Worlds.”
Rides-the-Wind motioned, and Rain Bear ducked outside into the patchy moonlight. Puffs of cloud made blots against the sky. A short
while later, Rides-the-Wind and Pitch filed out. Both men unfolded beautifully painted red ritual capes and draped them around their shoulders.
Rides-the-Wind lifted a hand to Rain Bear. “You may go now. We thank you for your help.”
“Outside of tying a couple of knots, I don’t know what good I did.”
The old eyes were knowing. “You were a witness, Chief. You have just seen the future change. One way, or another.”
“Will he be all right in there?”
Rides-the-Wind made a shrugging gesture. “That is up to him and the gods.”
Rides-the-Wind gave him a final fierce look before he and Pitch went to take seats before the fire.
Rain Bear rubbed a hand over his face. Go back to Dogrib’s? No, he had too many things to do tomorrow. If he didn’t get some sleep, what kind of chief would he be?
As he passed Rides-the-Wind’s lodge on the way to his, he heard Tsauz calling out to Thunderbird.
A faint smile bent his lips as he checked to see the guards lined out around Evening Star’s. He watched her lodge for a long moment, thinking of her, soft and warm in her robes. If only … if only.
He sighed, ducked through his doorway, and pulled his war shirt over his head. He scratched, and reached down to pull his thick buffalo robe back—only to have it move under his fingers.
“What?”
“Shhh! Be quiet or the whole camp will know.”
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
Evening Star took a halting breath. “I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Not after Coyote. I just … well, I have separate robes to sleep in if it makes you more comfortable.”
He frowned into the darkness. “No. It does not.”
Her skin was warm against his as he slid in beside her.
T
sauz wrinkled his nose. The Cloud People blood had a moldy smell. He took a tiny sip, and his mouth puckered at the bitter taste.
“I’m trying to come to you, Thunderbird,” he whispered. “Please, hear me.”
He rumbled the word “come” deep in his throat, and listened.
Nothing happened.
Tsauz took a good drink, choked it down, and reached out to touch the ropes. They didn’t feel like serpents. They weren’t scaly. They felt like feathers tied to woven bark ropes.
He called again, struggling to make the deep-throated rumble Rides-the-Wind had taught him.
“Thunderbird? Are you listening? Am I saying that right?”
He was probably speaking in badly accented Thunderbird. But Spirit creatures understood things humans did not. He figured Thunderbird didn’t really care about accents, and hoped it was a person’s heart that mattered.
“I heard them, Thunderbird,” he whispered anxiously. “When Evening Star mentioned my father, the Raven People’s cheers sounded like growls. If they ever get their hands on him, they’ll tear him apart. I know they will.”
He exhaled and ran his fingers over the cup. It felt crude. Big chips had been knocked off the wooden lip. They scratched his mouth when he drank again.
“Please help me, Thunderbird.”
He tipped his face heavenward. The more Cloud People blood he drank, the more empty he felt—as though his bones were becoming as hollow as a bird’s.
He tried again to make the rumble that would call Thunderbird.
Wind Woman sneaked into the lodge and batted the ropes around. They swung against each other, and he heard a strange hissing. It had to be the feathers brushing each other. Didn’t it?
He rumbled again. And again.
The last four swallows of blood tasted especially awful. He set the empty cup on the hides.
The hissing came again, louder.
Rain.
It pattered the sand outside. The storm had moved in. Had Thunderbird come with it?
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on calling and calling … .
The scent of wet earth filled the lodge. Tsauz reached out to touch the ropes again, and the feathers brushed his hand. They felt cool and soft. What would Father be doing right now? Sitting before the fire in their lodge, thinking about Tsauz?
He missed Father so much it was like a fire in his chest.
A coyote yipped somewhere up on War Gods Mountain, and across the valley, an answering yip echoed. The first coyote yipped again, then howled, and up and down the shore packs of coyotes lifted their voices to join hers. The haunting melody carried on the night.
Coyote. He’s going to be coming for me.
Tsauz held on to the rope and called again.
He was so tired. He’d never been this tired in his life. The lodge started to sway. Back and forth, very slowly, as though
Dancing
. He could feel it moving all around him.
Rain began to pour out of the sky. He felt sorry for Pitch and Rides-the-Wind. By now they’d be soaked. Should he call to them? Tell them to come back? They could try again tomorrow, or when it finally warmed up.
“No,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “No, I have to do this! If Thunderbird is my Spirit Helper, he may be able to save Father.”
Again and again, he made the deep-throated call until his throat felt like it had been sanded.
He could barely stay awake … .
A hiss came from the rope, and it twisted in his fingers. Tsauz gasped and instinctively grabbed it with both hands, hanging on for dear life.
Thunderbird roared across the forest, and the lodge shook with such violence that Tsauz went rigid, ready for anything.
“I’m right here, Thunderbird,” he whispered. “I’m not afraid!”
The rope coiled around his wrists, tying them together. His heart battered against his ribs with such force, he couldn’t breathe.
The next roar of thunder exploded right over Tsauz’s head. He cried out when the rope suddenly went stiff, like a dead snake in his hands.
“Oh, gods, what …”
“I’m coming, young Singer. Hold on very tight.”
With a jerk, the rope soared upward, dragging him with it as it blasted through the roof and flew away into the rainy sky.
 
 
A
fter a terrible night of rain, storm, and lightning, a cool morning wind blew out of the south, tousling Ecan’s white cape and whirling red volcanic sand across the mountain below. He crouched on the rim of the black lava wall behind Fire Village, watching the dawn-gray trails. Red Dog would be due to return this afternoon. None of the scouts, however, had sent word that they’d seen him. Had something gone wrong in Sandy Point Village? Surely Rain Bear would not have killed a messenger from Fire Village?
Slaves walked up and down the trails carrying packs on their backs or baskets propped on their hips. In the distance, down the mountain, he could see people in the Salmon Village plaza. Their gloriously colored clothing flashed as they moved.
After Matron Gispaw’s murder, her daughter, Kaska, had become the town matron. Her first order had been to build an enormous ceremonial lodge where she and a few of her most trusted allies lived—and, no doubt, where they could watch each other’s backs. He didn’t blame her for being frightened. The Wolf Tails were paid well enough that they could buy off almost any guard.
Dzoo emerged from her lodge, and people scattered like ripples of frightened birds across the Fire Village plaza. He watched her through slitted eyes. Every servant they sent her became seriously ill. Now, wherever she walked, people avoided her.
“Are you ever the clever witch,” he mused. “No one has the courage to watch you too closely. Those who do end up vomiting their guts out for days.”
She shielded her eyes and gazed out to the west.
Ecan followed her gaze. Someone ran the trail in the distance. Each time his moccasins struck the ground they left a dark dimple in the trail.
Red Dog?
He glanced back at Dzoo, and his pulse began to pound. She couldn’t see the runner. The palisade blocked her view. How could she possibly know he was out there?
One of the slaves who’d been scraping hides near the central fire glanced up, noticed her, and froze. She nudged her neighbor, and within moments they had picked up their scrapers and left. Immediately thereafter, the flint knappers grabbed up their tools and scuttled inside. In the space of a dozen heartbeats the only people left outside were Ecan, Dzoo, the guards and a few of the Four Old Women’s slaves. They had no choice. They’d been ordered to stay in the plaza, but hushed conversations broke out.
He rose to his feet.
Dzoo’s gaze lifted to him.
It was like being struck by lightning. His fists clenched involuntarily.
Her long red hair danced in the sunlight. She wore a clean maroon dress, and her large spear point hung down between her breasts. She smiled, but her eyes remained as inhumanly luminous as polished obsidian beads.
Ecan didn’t breathe until she turned away again to look in the direction of the man trotting up the trail. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. As though she could
feel
him.
Ecan signaled to the guard who stood at the opposite end of the lava cliff.
The young man trotted toward him.
“Yes, Starwatcher?” Hunter bowed. His thin face bore a coat of dust. Dull-eyed, he must have been standing guard all day.
“Find out who that runner is. If it’s Red Dog, send him to me immediately.”
“Yes, Starwatcher.” Hunter bowed and trotted away.
A commotion broke out when Red Dog arrived at the palisade gate. He wore a dirty brown knee-length shirt and a red headband to keep his gray-streaked black hair out of his eyes. Hunter approached him, then turned to point to where Ecan stood on the crest of the lava cliff. Red Dog dusted off his sleeves, said something, and headed around the palisade to the trail that led up over the cliff.
When he’d climbed to within three paces, Ecan called, “Greetings, Red Dog. I pray your journey was uneventful.”
“Uneventful?” Red Dog walked toward him. “Sleeper’s warriors chased me half the way home. He’s canny. You never know where he is or what he’s up to. You just catch glimpses of him or his men running behind you.”
“At least you’re alive.”
“Yes, well, once I’ve eaten and rested, I might agree with you.” He mopped his sweating forehead with his brown sleeve. “I presented your offer.”
“Yes, and … ?”
“Rain Bear said he would not exchange your son for the witch. It seems he didn’t believe you could get Dzoo out of Fire Village.”
Red Dog had a strange gleam in his eyes that Ecan didn’t understand, but it made him nervous. He said, “Then he refused my offer.”
“I didn’t say that.” Red Dog braced his feet, as though he could barely keep standing. “He said he hated dealing with a spineless coward, but he had his own offer to make.”
Ecan bristled at the word “coward,” but said, “What offer?”
“He wishes to meet with you. Somewhere away from Fire Village. You may bring one guard, and he will bring one—”
“What?”
he half shouted before he caught himself. “Does he think I’m a fool? Meet him with only one guard? I would never agree to something so ridiculous! Why is it important that we meet?”
“He doesn’t believe he can trust your messenger.” Red Dog grinned. “But then he doesn’t know how much you’re paying me.”
Ecan would be completely vulnerable. But if Rain Bear actually came as promised, so would he. No, no, it was too dangerous to consider.
“Did you see my son?”
“No.” Red Dog shook his head, and his graying black hair fluttered over his muscular shoulders. “The instant I got close to their camp, Dogrib grabbed me and had me trussed up like a deer ready for roasting. I never got inside the village. They kept me hidden in the forest. Which probably saved my life.”
Ecan felt suddenly hot. By now, Tsauz would be feeling utterly lost and alone. “Did you hear anyone speaking about my son?”
“Several of Rain Bear’s warriors whispered that Tsauz was sleeping in Rides-the-Wind’s lodge. They said the crazy old hermit was
teaching
your son.”
“Teaching him?”
“That’s what they said.”
Ecan frowned. “Why would that old fool choose to teach
my
son?
Tens of young Dreamers come to Rides-the-Wind every cycle begging to be taught by him.”
Was it some kind of trick? Perhaps a way of turning Ecan’s own son against him? “I doubt you heard correctly, Red Dog.”
“Oh,” Red Dog replied with arched brows, “I heard correctly, but the guards might have been lying. Perhaps they knew I was listening and said it just for my ears. Why would that be? They wished me to tell you, so that you would … what? Call down the Sea Eagles to tear the old man apart?”
Ecan couldn’t think of a good answer to that. The information about Rides-the-Wind was inconsequential. It wouldn’t change his actions one way or the other. So, maybe it was true. Rides-the-Wind the Hermit was teaching his son to be a Dreamer.
Of all the would-be protectors Ecan could imagine, Rides-the-Wind was the only one with the Power to actually keep his son safe. A tiny thread of hope stitched across his chest.
“I’m tired, Starwatcher. I’ve told you everything important. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to go.”
“What about the Council’s offer?”
“Refused.”
Ecan narrowed his eyes, trying to think past Tsauz and his situation. “What does Rain Bear want?”
Red Dog gave him a sly glance, hesitated, and whispered, “The end of Cimmis and the Council.” With an offhanded gesture, he added, “If we had different leadership, perhaps there would be peace.”

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