People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (11 page)

“Along with this mysterious sister you talk about?” He shook his head and dropped his hands in defeat. “You have no sister. Your mother died just after you were born. The way you talk, it sends shivers down my spine.” A large cold drop of water spattered on his back as it fell from the melting ice in the trees. He flinched at the impact. “As if I didn’t have enough to shiver from. I just want to go home.”

“The Chikosi will not have forgotten you.”

“I know.” He stared glumly at the forest giants around them. “Thank the Ancestors for Amber Bead’s warning. But for him, I’d be dead now. They’d have hung me in a square.” He winced at the very thought. “And I’d have told them everything. Amber Bead would be dead, as would you and the rest of my line. Our people would have been made to suffer. All for me.”

“Power isn’t finished with you, Grandfather.”

“Saw that in your Vision, did you?” He recalled the day he’d made her Dance with Sister Datura and scry the future in a well pot. Looking into the depths of the bowl, she’d seen something that she refused to relate to him. Odd as she was, she’d been even odder after that day.

“Then tell me, how much longer do we have to scurry around out here? Will I ever see home again?”

“Oh, yes, Grandfather. You shall even be there before I am.” She smiled, the effect eerie in her young face.
“All we have to do is survive the Chahta. Then, after we meet my sister, you shall be headed home.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll come. But only after I swim down to find the dead.”

“Dead? What dead?” By the Ancestors, he dreaded it when she said things like this.

But she didn’t answer. Instead her eyes were fixed on an opening between the gigantic trees.

“What do you see?”

“The black wolf,” she whispered softly. “He has just dropped by to assure me that all is well.”

But try as he might, Paunch could see no wolf on the empty leaf mat.

Growing old came at a price. High Minko Flying Hawk considered that as he dressed in his room. His bones and joints ached, and over the last couple of years, old injuries—like the one in his left knee—had grown progressively worse. Now, on cold mornings, he could hear bone grating in his knee when he stood.

His fingers had lost their dexterity, and the mere act of tying his apron around his waist was clumsy. Nevertheless, he straightened it and cinched it snugly to his thickening hips. Next he wound his hair behind his head, fixing the thunder-arrow copper headpiece with its pin. That came from long practice. His thick gray hair had to be wound tightly, just so, to support the weight.

Finally he draped a cougar hide over his shoulders and picked up his turkey-tail mace. Made of chipped stone, then polished to a gleam, the thing was heavy. So many of the trappings of authority grew burdensome with time. Just like the weight of responsibility that caused a droop in his shoulders. His confirmation as high minko, or supreme chief of the Sky Hand, had been ten winters past. In that time he had fought both to control his notorious rages and to manage his people. Through it all, he’d struggled to shape Smoke Shield to follow him.

He passed Smoke Shield’s room, and gave it a sidelong glance. Would the man never come to his senses?
What kind of fool—especially a potential leader—bet everything on a stickball game when he hadn’t managed to get his team together for regular practice? Even Smoke Shield had to understand that Power was watching, ready to reward those who followed its ways.

Yes, but he had the White Arrow Town raid to plan and execute.
That, at least, Smoke Shield had done brilliantly. Still, had he been more interested in Power and drawing it to his aid instead of wetting his shaft in a new slave woman, perhaps he wouldn’t have gambled away all of his possessions.

The fact that Flying Hawk had divested himself of his own clothing to replace what Smoke Shield had lost prickled like bull nettle under his skin. And what had become of Smoke Shield’s comely Chahta slave? He’d lost her to Heron Wing! His wife, of all people! Gods, that story was told with amusement around many fires.

He will come around. I did.
Yes, he thought with a sigh, his nephew just needed to feel the weight of responsibility for his people. Then he would understand. When Smoke Shield’s selfish drive had to act for the people’s good instead of his own, it would all come together.

Carrying his stone mace he stepped into the great room and found Sun Falcon Mankiller waiting for him. The Bowl Town chief stood, hands behind his back, his eyes on the Seeing Hand carving that hung behind the three-legged stool.

The sight of the carving brought a shiver to Flying Hawk. But a handful of nights past, he’d walked out after a terrible nightmare and seen a tear streaking down from the corner of the great eye that filled the palm. Even now he could see a slight stain, as if the wood had discolored along the tear’s track.

Did it weep for my people?

“Greetings, old friend.” Flying Hawk shook it off and walked forward, clasping the chief’s elbow. “I must
admit, seeing my cousin so soon after the solstice comes as a surprise. What is so important that it brings you in person instead of a messenger?”

Flying Hawk seated himself painfully on the stool, wishing he had another cougar hide to cushion his old bones. The cool stone mace rested heavily on his lap. With a tingle in his spine, he was painfully aware of the Seeing Eye in the hand relief behind him.

Sun Falcon touched his forehead in respect and looked around. “Are we alone, High Minko?”

“Only my slave was here. When he told me you had arrived, I sent him to fetch suitable food. Some of our hunters found a bear denned up in the top of a hollow standing tree. They set fire to it and shot the bear as he crawled out. The meat is excellent. It will be heated and brought here.”

“And the war chief?”

“Off to some purpose or other.” Flying Hawk gave Sun Falcon a weary grin. “He dislikes the jokes made about his team’s performance in the recent games.”

Sun Falcon’s expression didn’t change. “Then he is not close by?”

“I could send for him if you wish?”

“No, for the moment let us just talk.”

“Then I am your willing audience.” He paused. “Do we need black drink, or perhaps the pipe?”

“No.” Sun Falcon paused, as if suddenly unsure of himself. “High Minko, what do you know about the disappearance of Red Awl?”

“Not much. Only that he was called home, but never arrived. Since then I have heard stories, most of them wildly speculative, but nothing with any meat on the bones. I remember your concerns at the solstice Council. You were concerned about relations with the Albaamaha.”

Sun Falcon lowered his voice. “Were there any special instructions, things that perhaps a high minko would
have wished to accomplish without either the Council or the chiefs’ knowledge?”

Flying Hawk frowned, his unease growing. “Very delicately put. May I ask why?”

“You know our position in the north. Chief Buffalo Killer and I are both on the frontier with the Yuchi. Any raiders coming down from the north, be they Yuchi, Charokee, or Shawnee, will attack us first. Because of that, we have somewhat closer relations with our Albaamaha. When raiders come, we are their shield.”

“And they your eyes and ears.” Flying Hawk nodded. “I am well aware.”

“Because of our codependence, our relationships with the Albaamaha are different from those down here, closer to Split Sky City.”

“Spit it out, Sun Falcon. I’d think you were negotiating a marriage.”

“Mikko Red Awl was chosen to represent the north in the tchkofa Council because he had a basic understanding of our mutual problems. He was fully aware of the threats we face, and that we needed to work together for the betterment of both of our peoples.” Sun Falcon looked up. “I need to know if you sent Smoke Shield and Fast Legs to waylay him for some purpose. If you did, I will understand.”

Flying Hawk shifted on his stool. “I sent Smoke Shield on no such mission. I know he was obsessed with the death of the captives, but the Council and I were specific in our instructions that no action should be taken against the Albaamaha. We decided to wait, watch, and learn before we pursued anything.” He paused. “Are you telling me different?”

Sun Falcon took a nervous breath. “One of my Albaamaha—a man I trust, and who trusts me—came to me yesterday morning. You have heard the rumor about Red Awl’s widow, Lotus Root, supposedly having Smoke Shield’s weapons? You have heard that she claims
that Smoke Shield and Fast Legs took her and her husband prisoner? The story is that they tortured Red Awl, trying to make him reveal the names of the traitors who sent the Albaamo Crabapple to warn White Arrow Town. Have you also heard he demanded to know the name of the Albaamaha who killed the captives?”

“Something, yes. But I thought them nothing more than rumors.” He felt a tightening in his chest.

“My informant tells me that the Albaamaha suspected that Fast Legs was stalking Lotus Root outside Bowl Town. He also tells me that they laid a trap for him.” Sun Falcon swallowed hard. “High Minko, if my informant is correct, the Albaamaha have captured Fast Legs. Alive.”

Flying Hawk stared in shocked disbelief. Captured Fast Legs? Impossible! No Albaamaha would dare! They . . . No, he knew his cousin. This wasn’t some wild story.

“Smoke Shield would not have done such a thing. I was
clear
about the Council’s decision regarding the slain captives. He told me he understood that.”

“But not about finding the Albaamaha traitors?”

Flying Hawk closed his eyes, a sudden sense of desolation within. “No. I told him they were his to hunt down.”

Sun Falcon reached out frantically. “And he suspected Red Awl, of all people?” The chief took a deep breath. “If he did this thing, High Minko, he has poured coals on dry kindling. From the moment of Lotus Root’s return, my Albaamaha have retreated to their villages. People who once nodded when they passed me now look away, a darkness in their eyes.” He paced uneasily back and forth. “The next thing I hear is that they have captured Fast Legs, that he was stalking Lotus Root. . . . Gods, this could burn out of control.”

“If this thing with Red Awl actually happened,” Flying Hawk corrected. “Smoke Shield knows the ramifications
of such a rash action. He wouldn’t have crossed me and the Council this way.”

Sun Falcon stopped short, staring back over his shoulder. “The war chief had gone hunting, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that the story? And when he returned without his weapons, without his cape, wasn’t there some story about having them stolen in the forest?”

Flying Hawk narrowed an eye. “Would you call my nephew a liar?”

Sun Falcon stiffened, but said, “And that scab on his lip? He claimed to have fallen during the hunt, but the joke was that one of his women must have bitten him.”

“
Enough!”

Sun Falcon drew a deep breath, meeting Flying Hawk’s hard stare. “High Minko, if there is so much as a cast-off nutshell of truth in this, we have a problem.”

Flying Hawk fought down the old rage. Once, years ago, he would have thrown the man out, ordered him away and told him never to return until he had a civil tongue in his mouth. Now he forced himself to breathe easily, to keep the tremble out of his hands.

Taking his time, he said softly, “You find Fast Legs, wherever they’ve hidden him. You find him, and get him back. No matter what has happened, one of my warriors has been taken. That is unacceptable.”

Sun Falcon gave him an unwavering stare. “I will do what I can, High Minko. Who knows what Fast Legs will have told the Albaamaha? If the stories are true about what they did to Red Awl, I’m not sure Fast Legs wouldn’t have been subjected to the same treatment. In the meantime, I would appreciate any warriors you could send my way. I would like them to sweep up from the south, searching the woods as they come. Any excursion from Bowl Town will be observed, and warning will be given. They’ll have moved him by the time my warriors even get close.”

“I shall have warriors in the forest by morning. Keep
as many as you need to secure your town. Feed them from the Albaamaha’s stores.” He pointed his mace at Sun Falcon. “Whatever happens, don’t you dare let any of the Albaamaha overrun your town until we get there.”

“Not while I’m alive,” he answered. “If you will excuse me, High Minko, I think I had better be getting back.”

“You are excused.” He sat with closed eyes, not even bothering to look as Sun Falcon strode out of the room.
Smoke Shield, tell me you have not done this thing.

Moments later, a slave entered bearing steaming plates of bear meat and sweetened corn gruel. Flying Hawk, however, no longer had an appetite.