People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (43 page)

At that moment, Heron Wing ducked out—and stopped short in shocked recognition as her eyes met Trader’s.

“I should be going.” He glanced at the slave. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”

“Trader?” Violet Bead asked. “That’s no kind of a name. What is your clan?”

“Violet Bead,” Heron Wing said shortly, “the man is a river Trader. I am negotiating with him over Morning Dew’s value. Now go away.”

Trader tried to keep a straight face as Morning Dew turned her shocked gaze from Trader to Heron Wing, her lips parting in disbelief.

Violet Bead, however, was giving Trader a swift and thorough appraisal. “When you’re done here, Trader, come see what I have available.” Then she looked hard at his face. “Don’t I know you?”

“Can’t say that you do. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Split Sky City. Unless, well, did you spend any time with the Natchez?” He changed to that tongue. “You live dangerously for a woman of the Chikosi.”

Violet Bead shook her head, “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing. A Natchez joke.”

“Come see me,” she reminded, before turning and striding toward her house.

Trader arched a brow as he watched the saucy sway of her hips. “Is she always like that?”

“Unfortunately,” Heron Wing said in a dry voice.

“You’re
Trading
me?” Morning Dew cried.

“Shhh!” Heron Wing snapped, glancing after Violet Bead. Then, to Trader, “What are you
doing
here?”

“Looking for the Contrary. That’s when your slave’s wood strap broke. Two Petals is missing.”

“Gods!” Heron Wing cried, hands up. “This isn’t funny! Violet Bead is a terrible gossip.”

Trader considered that. The tall woman had paused, looking back from the ramada at her house. “So, what do we do?”

“Morning Dew,” Heron Wing ordered. “Go with him. Just get away from here. I’ll explain everything later. Help him find the Contrary. Go!”

Trader turned, amused at the burning glare that Morning Dew was giving him. If looks were sharp, this one was peeling his skin off. “So, you’re Morning Dew?”

Her eyes went molten, jaw muscles bunched.

He led her back out onto the plaza. Once out of earshot, he said, “Do me a favor—try and look slightly subdued instead of like you’re about to rip my testicles off.”

“You
knew
! What were you doing? Spying, determining the value of your Trade? That’s why you didn’t react when I told you I was a slave?”

He led the way back past the Raccoon Clan mound. “It wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but no.”

As the anger drained, her expression fell. “Gods,” she whispered, “I thought she was my friend.”

Trader stopped, pulling her, almost unresisting, behind the curve of the Raccoon Clan charnel house. Swimmer was trying to figure out why this had nothing to do with playing fetch. “She is. Look at me. Old Woman Fox asked us to Trade for your release. We didn’t know that Heron Wing had you until we arrived.”

She couldn’t suppress her amazement. “Old Woman Fox? My
grandmother
? She sent you here to
Trade
for me?”

“She did.” He glanced around. “But I wouldn’t shout that at the top of my lungs. Some here might not approve of the idea. Not with relations between the Chikosi and Chahta being what they are.”

“Gods,” Morning Dew whispered, a hand to her breast. “She’s alive! Tell me everything.”

Trader related their time in White Arrow Town, answering her questions as best he could. Beyond Old Woman Fox, he could supply little information about who was or was not alive.

“All right,” she finally admitted. “I’m just excited, that’s all.” She grinned. “I’m finally going home.” Then her expression fell. “How do I tell them what happened here?”

“You will find a way.”

“How soon will this happen?”

He winced. “Well, that’s a problem. Old White and I have some obligations here. It may take a while.”

She nodded. “But you’re Traders. You can go when and where you wish. You came all the way down from the upper rivers, through the Yuchi . . .” Morning Dew’s eyes sharpened. “From upriver. Cahokia. The Yuchi bowl . . .”

“Yuchi bowl?”

“You’re Green Snake.”

“Are you always this quick?”

She nodded to herself. “That’s why Heron Wing panicked when she saw you. If Smoke Shield learns that you’re seeing Heron Wing . . .” She reached out. “Come on. Let’s go look for your lost Contrary. We need to make this look good—something Violet Bead would believe. So, what do we do? The Trader explanation won’t be good for more than a day or two. She’s going to be eaten alive with curiosity.” Morning Dew studied him with different eyes. “You do resemble your brother. But you’re just enough different.”

“We were twins, but not identical.”

“No wonder I didn’t like you.”

“That’s all right. I don’t like him, either.”

She took his hand, leading him out into plain view. “We’re holding hands.”

“Why? I thought we were looking for Two Petals.”

“Yes, we’re looking for your spooky friend.”

“And we have to hold hands to do that?”

“Of course. You’re my new lover.”

“Do I have anything to say about this?”

“Do you want to be close to Heron Wing? Any other way and rumors will fly straight to Smoke Shield’s ears.”

“Ah, I see. No one would care about a man sniffing around Heron Wing’s slave.” He grinned. “I’m only a little slow.”

Old White sat on the log before their house, poking at the fire with a long branch. He had been everywhere, even peeking into society houses where he had no business.
He had asked after Two Petals, describing her looks, how she was dressed. Nothing.

He growled to himself. He’d been too concerned with Trader that morning, aware the man was half-shocked by the revelations about Smoke Shield.

Why didn’t I keep my eye on her?

Because she’s the Contrary, guided by Power.

But was Power enough to keep her safe?

“Seeker?” Trader called from the darkness.

He glanced up, seeing Trader and Swimmer approaching with Two Petals in tow. “Thank the gods, you’ve found her. Two Petals, I’ve been worried half out of—”

The woman wasn’t Two Petals, but almost matched her height and age. This woman was thinner, lithe and athletic. She considered Old White with clear and intelligent eyes.

“You didn’t find her?” Trader asked, stepping into the firelight.

“No.” He glanced at the woman. “And this is?”

“Morning Dew.”

“Ah, of course.” He arched an eyebrow. “When did you see Heron Wing to make the Trade?”

“Power got in the way. For the moment, Morning Dew is my new lover.”

About to say something, Old White snapped his mouth shut. Then after a breath, he managed to rasp, “If I only had
half
the complications you have with women, I would die a happy man!”

“It’s a show,” Trader said, “a way of keeping suspicion away from Heron Wing.”

“Are you really the Seeker?” Morning Dew asked, bending down to peer at Old White.

“Are you really Old Woman Fox’s granddaughter?”

“I am.”

“Then we have two for two.” He smiled up at her.
“Come and sit. We’re not sure how to get you back to White Arrow Town yet; but sometime soon we’ll figure it out, even if it means slipping you to Great Cougar’s warriors.”

“No Trade yet,” Trader said, pausing as Morning Dew seated herself. “Morning Dew will fill you in. I want to run down to the canoe landing. Maybe Two Petals went to the canoes for some reason. Come on, Swimmer.” The dog followed happily as he slipped away into the darkness.

Morning Dew dropped her head into her hands. “Great Cougar is sending warriors?”

“Around the new moon.”

“You haven’t told the Chikosi?”

“Is there a reason we should?”

She lifted her head, studying his face in the firelight. “She knew.”

“Pardon me?”

“The Contrary. That was her, before the squares that day. She talked to me, and you pulled her away.”

Old White smiled. “Things are always confusing around the Contrary.”

“The blood made me what I am. Those were her words.” She glanced down at her hands. “She knew.” Morning Dew paused. “Do you know what she meant by the final knot?”

“It may be that Trader is the final knot. A knot ties something together.”

“Is he
anything
like his brother?”

“What do you think?” Old White asked softly.

“When I first met him I was confused, and then I began to like him.” She paused. “Heron Wing still loves him. But she’s trapped.”

“For the moment.”

She stared at the fire. “The Contrary came to me on purpose, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“The firewood cord broke for a reason. Everything that has happened to me has been for a reason. Power has been behind this all along. It brought me here, broke me down, and watched as I rebuilt myself.” She looked down at her hands. “When Green Snake told me you’d been sent by my grandmother, I could barely keep from bursting.”

Trader appeared from around the side of the house, Swimmer trotting behind. “She was there this morning. The old Albaamo who sells firewood saw her. She walked out, almost as if she was going to walk into the river. Then Smoke Shield showed up. They talked, and he left. Later, she walked back up the landing. No one has seen her since.”

“Smoke Shield?” Old White frowned. “And they talked?”

“Do we go search the palace?” Trader’s worry reflected in his face.

Old White leaned back. Did they? Was he ready for that confrontation? “No. She knows what she’s doing, Trader. She has seen all of this in her vision. Whatever it is, leave it to Power.”

“But my brother is a—”

“I said,
leave it to Power
.”

Trader seemed to wilt. “Gods, I just hope she knows what she’s doing.”

Firelight flickered warm and yellow on the great room furnishings. Smoke Shield watched as it played on Flying Hawk’s worn face. The high minko sat propped on his tripod, staring vacantly at the flames. His mind seemed to be floating, gone far away to something beyond Smoke Shield’s comprehension.

I am going to have to kill him soon. His souls have turned to water.

Smoke Shield continued, “I think we have enough food to support five hundred warriors for no more than a week. The tishu minko has dispatched runners to every town. Warriors should begin arriving from the south within days. I have sent orders upriver that those warriors should join us en route to the north.” He paused. “Are you hearing anything I say?”

Flying Hawk stirred, glancing at him. “You have a dilemma.”

“Indeed.”

“The Yuchi, or the Chahta?” Flying Hawk ran callused fingers over his stone mace. “So I am curious. What will you do? Turn, as you first planned, and strike the Chahta, or continue your march north? For once, you have tricked yourself, Nephew. Or Power has laid a trap for you.”

“It is I who lay the traps.”

“I wonder. The death of the Yuchi lies upon your
shoulders. You broke the white arrow’s Power. The pattern of it only comes clear at the end. When you sacked White Arrow Town, it was a sign, a portent that you would spurn the protection of the white arrow carried by the Yuchi. Power has woven this—a complex fabric upon which you now are to be judged.”

“You only endured a cut to the chest, not a blow to the head. Why are you talking as if you are addled?”

“Because your brother is woven into this just as intricately as you are. Your actions and his are pulling the warp and weft. I can feel it as surely as I can feel the breeze on my face. Forces are moving beyond your control, events you could no more stop than the wind.”

“Meaning what?”

“I am not sure. My best guess is that Green Snake will come at the head of a Yuchi army.” He glanced at Smoke Shield. “Do you remember what the Yuchi said about Green Snake playing the high chief in chunkey? I sent my slave out to talk to the Traders down at the canoe landing today. A man came in from the north—a half-Yuchi Trader who shuttles back and forth over the divide. He told the whole thing. Green Snake and Born-of-Sun played to twenty, and for the tie-breaking point, Green Snake shattered his lance on the stone. In the process, they have made an alliance. By killing the Yuchi, I fear that you have made a critical mistake. Now, when Green Snake comes, it will be with force behind him.”