People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (45 page)

“The two of you being here is like coals on dry tinder,” Heron Wing said worriedly.

Trader looked back. “I don’t suppose you’d want to come sit next to me? Just to see if we could get Violet Bead to make an appearance?”

Heron Wing gave him a pleading look. “We could still be in your canoe in a hand’s time, Green Snake. That offer stands.”

He nodded, aware of both Morning Dew and Seeker’s inquisitive stares. He almost started as Blood Skull made his cast. “Not good. He’s gripping the shaft too tightly.”

“Invite the Chahta warriors to a celebration?” Heron Wing asked. “An equinox feast?”

“Does anyone know when the new moon falls?”

“Seven days,” Morning Dew reminded.

“A feast? Will that be enough?” Old White wondered. “Besides, if the dates coincide, wouldn’t Great Cougar be afraid to time his attack then? Or is he the kind of man to worry about a little thing like Power?”

“He is, and he does.” Morning Dew tossed a piece of dough to Swimmer. “Great Cougar pays close attention to the rituals. So much so that just hearing rumors about an attempted Yuchi assassination under the Power of a white arrow might make him reconsider who his enemy really is.”

“But we know that was a ruse.” Heron Wing had taken up a position, leaning against her door.

“Exposing Smoke Shield’s fraud is going to change a
lot of minds,” Trader reminded. “According to the way Morning Dew explains it, when Great Cougar hears Smoke Shield killed the messenger, he’ll be twice as anxious to hit the Chikosi.”

“Do you have to call us that?” Heron Wing asked.

“What?”

“
Chikosi
. It means ‘aunty’s people.’ It’s humiliating.” Trader glanced at Old White, shared a shrug, and turned his attention to Smoke Shield as he cast again. His brother was having a good day. “I could take him.”

“Forget it,” Old White reminded.

Trader spread his hands. “The only place the Chikosi aren’t called Chikosi is here. By us.”

“Whatever happens,” Morning Dew insisted, “we’re going to have to come up with something special to give both sides a reason to cease fighting.”

“So, how long do we have?” Old White asked.

“Until they call the next Council meeting,” Trader said. He looked back at Heron Wing. “I heard that warriors are coming up from the south.”

She nodded. “The first ones began arriving today.”

Trader shook his head as Blood Skull’s cast went wide. “The thing is, if Smoke Shield marches all of his warriors out of Split Sky City before we figure a way out of this, there will be no way to call them back.” He glanced at Old White. “We have to be at that Council meeting.”

He nodded. “I wish I knew where Two Petals went. I always imagined that she’d be here. With us. You know, explaining the future.”

Trader waited until Smoke Shield cast. “Heron Wing? When the Council is called, can you do that? Get us in?”

Heron Wing pursed her lips. “Maybe. It will mean telling both Night Star and Blood Skull everything, but yes.”

“We will have some packs,” Old White said. “Things that must not be opened until we are inside, and then only when the time is right.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“We ask for everything,” Trader said. “And if we don’t get it, we’re never going to be able to stop that man out there from unleashing a mess we can’t put a stop to.”

Smoke Shield charged forward, bowled his stone, and cast his lance. It caught the sunlight, glittering in the air. Then it arced to earth.

“Yes!” They heard Smoke Shield’s cry, and the man made a twisting jerk with his arm.

“Gods, he hasn’t changed. Used to drive me to a rage every time he did that.” Trader shook his head.

Morning Dew slapped the finished dough. “Another thing to consider: Let’s say you do get into the Council. You make your claims, prove your case. How do you expect Smoke Shield to take that? What’s to keep him from walking over and braining the both of you?”

Trader took a deep breath. “Now there’s a question. We’re going to look pretty silly if we end up with him chasing us around the eternal fire, leaping over the chiefs, scrambling this way and that, knocking over the Eagle Pipe and the black drink cup.”

“Three!” Smoke Shield cried in glee. “I win by
three
!”

“Just don’t forget the Chahta,” Morning Dew reminded. “We may be running out of time.”

Smoke Shield charged up the stairs, recklessly taking them two at a time, each leap shooting him upward. The wooden steps of the Sun Stairs shivered under his impact.

Three points! Just as she said.

Gasping for breath, he trotted into the palace yard, patted the guardian posts, and cut across the great room. Entering the hallway, he pulled the door hanging aside and stared at the woman. She lay curled on his bed, her long black hair laid out in a swirl over the blankets. “Three points,” she said, sensing his presence.

“I would like to know how you knew that.”

“It was what I saw.” She turned her head, fixing her odd, depthless eyes on his. “This is terribly difficult, you know. Speaking like this.”

“How would you normally speak?”

“Backward.”

“Well, you’re not very good at Trade Tongue.”

She lowered an eyelid skeptically. “Neither are you. Talk about an accent.”

He entered the room, pulling back the blanket to expose her naked body. “Not dressed?”

“I can wait until we’re finished.”

He traced his fingers along the curve of her back, over the round moons of her buttocks, and down the slim thighs tucked against her calves. Her breasts were hidden by her arms.

“And you think I have time to linger with you?”

“I know you do.”

“I keep forgetting, you have seen the future.”

“Bide your time. The first warriors have arrived. Some from Red Reed Town will be late. They began to play around and capsized their canoe.”

“You know this, do you?”

“As will you, when it is finally reported.”

He kept staring at her body, remembering the things she had done the night before. He rubbed his chin. It wasn’t like he really did have anything to do. Nothing that wouldn’t wait, anyway.

Heron Wing had waited, ensuring that Stone and Morning Dew were deeply asleep before she’d risen, dressed, and slipped out into the night. The darkness was almost complete. Heron Wing conjured images of wading through soot. Thick and inky, an impenetrable cloud cover had come rolling down from the north and ensured that no starlight penetrated the gloom. Split Sky City might have been a Dream.

The scent of smoke hung richly in the air—not just that of the cook fires, but the more pungent aroma of burned thatch. A house had caught fire that afternoon: one of the Deer Clan weavers’. For a moment, it had looked as if it would spread from house to house, but a change in the wind had allowed several brave individuals to collapse one of the burning roofs and stop the spread.

Heron Wing practically had to feel with her feet, stepping carefully down the beaten path. The trail hugged the northern boundary of the plaza. This wasn’t her way—not sneaking around in the middle of the night like this. What she was doing was more akin to Violet Bead’s doing.

But she is not in love.
She nearly tripped in the dark.
This is madness!

Gods, she was acting like a silly girl. And hadn’t she been the one who gave the lectures about the mistakes of passion?

She oriented herself, approaching the bulk of the Skunk Clan mound, and felt her way around its edge. Halfway into the maze of houses, she kicked a pot, hearing it clatter. Immediately a dog began barking. Someone shouted harshly to silence it.

Heart pounding, she stood, frozen until her breathing grew normal. The house had to be somewhere close. And she couldn’t let Swimmer bark. That pesky Squash Blossom would immediately wonder who was at the Traders’ at this time of night.

Why didn’t I plan this better?

It was impulse. She’d been lying in her bed, thrashing around in her blankets. Her souls had remained locked on one thing: No matter how much sense it made, the knowledge that Morning Dew and Green Snake were playing lovers had been gnawing at her all day. With so much in the balance, that her souls had fixed on that defied her best ability to explain. Not only that, she wasn’t an idiot. The speculative, veiled looks that Morning Dew was giving Green Snake were more than just sham interest.

And why not? He’s a handsome man.
Those broad shoulders, the ropy muscle, and the slim waist would catch any woman’s eye. But it was more. Something about looking into his eyes; seeing the reflection of his souls was enough to trigger any woman’s interest. Violet Bead, with just a glimpse, had responded immediately with an invitation.

And now I’m being every bit as foolish and careless as she is.

Violet Bead had always liked living on the dangerous side. The fact that she showed great discretion was proved by the fact Smoke Shield hadn’t cut her nose or ears off. Generally that’s how her people treated adultery.

So what am I doing?

She eased around the side of what she thought was Green Snake’s house. Feeling with her toe, she found the log where she’d sat with him that day.

“Swimmer?” she whispered. “Swimmer?”

The dog was a black shape that slipped out from under the door hanging. She bent down, fluffing his ears. “Hello, Swimmer. Is your master home?”

She straightened, slipping the hanging back. “Green Snake?”

“Who comes?”

“Who were you expecting?” she whispered.

Fabric rustled. He peered at her in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

Words died in her throat.

“Heron Wing?”

She sighed. “I came for you.” Then, “Gods, I’m making a mess of this.”

A hand found hers in the darkness. He led her into the interior, where she had to feel with her feet lest she step into the fire pit, or knock over something.

“Are you sure?” he asked as he pulled her into his arms.

“More sure than I’ve ever been in my life.” She wound her arms around him, feeling the muscles in his back. For long moments, she just clung to him, wondering at the sensation of her body pressed against his.

“Where’s your bed?”

“This way.” He released her, and she pulled her dress over her head. Cool air bathed her skin. Then his hands were on her waist, pulling her down to his pole bed.

She fought the urge to gasp as he pressed the length of his body against hers. His skin was warm, the ripples of muscle sliding under her fingers. She rubbed herself against him, sliding her thighs and breasts along his body.

“I have Dreamed this,” he whispered. “Night after night, I have lain with you.”

His gentle hands found her breasts, his mouth drawing her nipple into its warmth.

Taking a deep breath, she did what she had never willingly done with a man. She reached down, grasping his shaft, tightening her grip.

This should have been mine.

Her first surprise was the anticipation in her loins, the building tingle that brewed deep in her pelvis. She tried to pull him to her, but he resisted, his hands smoothing her skin, tracing lightly over the narrow curve of her waist, around the swell of her hips. His hot breath purled along her centerline to her navel while his hands followed the length of her thighs.

She squirmed as his warm mouth pressed into the hollow above her pubic hair. Then his fingertips stroked up the insides of her thighs. A strangled groan filled her throat.

She was panting, heart racing, as his body slid up hers. She pulled her knees up, reaching down to open herself. A sigh slipped past her lips as he slid smoothly into her sheath.

For the moment they lay there, and she savored the sensation of him deep inside her. He began gently, the barest movement of his hips. She wrapped her arms around him, seeking to pull the whole of him inside her, to wrap her souls around him, and hold him there for all eternity.

I never knew. . . . I never knew. . . .

The final surprise began when the movement of his hard shaft inside her stoked an ever-growing tingle. It built, expanding, swelling around the slick sides of her sheath to burst through her hips and pulse up her spine. She fought the urge to cry out, gasping for air, her hips bucking and rolling under him.