People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (53 page)

“If it had to do with the White Arrow raid, something always goes wrong. That’s what people are saying. First the captives were mysteriously killed, and now the war medicine just vanishes. You know what the rumor is?”

“No.” Trader squinted up into the sun.

“That it flew out of the Men’s House in the middle of the night. My cousin, he’s a warrior; he was there last night. That room was full of men. Many of them maintained some sort of vigil all night. Warriors do that. It courts Power. No one saw that medicine box vanish.”

“Maybe something really was wrong with that raid,”
Old White said evenly. “Maybe whoever led it had the Power wrong.”

“That would be Smoke Shield.” She shook her head. “If Power’s wrong, he’s at the bottom of it.” Then a horrified look crossed her face, as if she’d said too much. “I’ve work to do,” she called with forced joviality and headed quickly home.

Old White considered that as he reached for his pipe where it lay in his pouch. “That brother of yours seems to be . . .”

“Elder?” a cautious voice called.

Old White turned to see Stone peering around the corner of the house. “Stone? What are you doing over here?”

The little boy slipped around the corner of the house, eyes lighting when Swimmer trotted over with his stick. He bent down, running his fingers through Swimmer’s furry mane. “Mother sent me. She wants the Seeker to come. By himself.”

Old White glanced at Trader, who gave him a nod. “All right.” He rose, then considered. “Maybe a wise man would take a Trade pack with him?”

“And you’re always wise.” Trader gave Stone a wink.

“Can Swimmer come?” the little boy asked.

“Maybe another time,” Trader told him. “We’re in the middle of a stick game.”

Old White grabbed a sack of fine milky gray chert blanks that had come from the legendary quarries south of Cahokia and gestured to the little boy. “After you.”

They had walked out to the plaza before Old White asked, “Did your mother say what this was about?”

“She’s upset.”

“Did she say why?”

“I think it’s because of Violet Bead. My father beat her this morning. He cut her nose and ears off.” Stone
looked up, wide-eyed. “He almost
killed
a Crawfish Clan man who was at Violet Bead’s house. He hit him in the head with a stone.”

“I see.” Old White hurried along.

Violet Bead’s house had a forlorn look, and it took a moment for Old White to realize why. All the personal effects: the mortar, the bowls, jars, and other items that normally lay close at hand, were missing.

He followed Stone to Heron Wing’s door, and the boy ran inside, calling, “Mother? I’ve brought the Seeker.”

Heron Wing stepped to the door, and Old White raised a questioning white brow. “What happened to your face?”

She gave him a frightened look, glancing this way and that before stepping out. “Stone? Could you run down and ask Uncle Pale Cat if he needs help mixing the salves?”

Stone looked uncertainly up at his mother, worry evident in his face. “Father won’t kill the Seeker, will he?”

“No,” she chided. “It’s not like that. Go on. The Seeker’s just here to Trade.”

They watched as a reluctant Stone turned and started off, but he paused often and long to cast anxious glances over his shoulder.

“Do you want to start at the beginning while I show you these chert blades?” He pulled some of the blanks from the sack.

“You saved my life this morning, and Green Snake’s, too. I wasn’t home for a finger’s time before Smoke Shield burst in. He did this to me.” She indicated the swelling bruise on her face. “He said the Prophet told him the medicine box was here, and that his wife was betraying him. He . . . gods, what he did to Violet Bead . . .” She struggled for control.

Old White sighed. “So he’s got the box?”

The look she gave him told him just how close her souls were to shattering. “No. The box was gone when
I arrived.” She swallowed hard. “And so is Morning Dew.”

G
ods! Is everything a mess?
Flying Hawk sat on his tripod in the great room. The place was packed. Before him, an angry delegation of Crawfish Clan men, led by Chief Wooden Cougar, stood with hard expressions, their arms crossed. Blood Skull stood to the side, hands on his hips, a thunderous anger in his eyes. Amber Bead stood in the rear, waiting to deliver his report on the meeting with the Albaamaha mikkos. Decisions had to be made about the palisade. Then, moments ago, Two Poisons had stomped in, expression like crowded storm clouds.

“One thing at a time,” Flying Hawk said, raising his hands.

“Smoke Shield nearly killed one of my clansmen!” Wooden Cougar said through clenched teeth. “The man’s face is smashed!
Your
nephew knocked one of his eyes out of the socket!”

In the back, Two Poisons huffed his displeasure.

“Quiet!” Flying Hawk ordered, lifting his mace. If only he could wade into the middle of them, smacking this way and that. All of the frustrations of the last moon were boiling within. “Breath Giver help me. What’s happening to us?”

“It’s Smoke Shield,” Blood Skull said from the side. “His souls are out of control! First he starts trouble with the Albaamaha; then he conjures some Chahta raid, disrupting all the plans. For all we know,
he
is behind the theft of the White Arrow medicine box. Perhaps this trouble with Violet Bead is his way of covering it.”

“My clansman may not live!” Wooden Cougar roared. His kinsmen grunted in assent.

“I said,
one thing at a time
!” Flying Hawk struggled to control himself. The old familiar anger was brewing, replacing the sense of defeat that had so long dogged his souls. “First, the Crawfish man. What’s his name?”

“Two Beavers.”

“He was caught with Violet Bead. There is no disagreement about that.”

Wooden Cougar ground his jaws, then reluctantly shook his head. “No. But Smoke Shield’s reaction was uncalled-for. The woman has a well-known reputation for dallying with men.”

“As if her husband doesn’t?” Two Poisons called from the rear.

“Silence!” Flying Hawk pointed with his mace. “Deer Clan shall have its time to speak.”

Two Poisons muttered something under his breath and exhaled furiously.

Flying Hawk struggled to calm himself. “This is a case of adultery. Plain and simple. Smoke Shield acted within his rights as a—” He pointed his mace, forestalling Wooden Cougar’s outburst. “
Don’t
interrupt me! This Two Beavers isn’t dead. We’re not talking about murder here.”

“Yet,” Wooden Cougar interjected. “The
Hopaye
is working on Two Beavers as we speak. The man hasn’t regained consciousness.”

“If he dies, we will revisit this,” Flying Hawk amended. “But until that time, he was caught in Violet Bead’s bed.”

“That is the woman’s fault!” Wooden Cougar cried. “She enticed him.”

“And she’s paid the price. Smoke Shield cut off her nose and ears.” Flying Hawk watched Two Poisons fume in the back. “That is our law! Smoke Shield was right; the woman and Two Beavers were wrong. I don’t want to hear more of this. If I do, the warriors will be sent to restore peace between your two clans. That’s
the end of it.” He glared at Wooden Cougar. “I mean it. You—and Two Poisons—are dismissed!”

He watched as the Crawfish and Deer Clan delegations pushed their way to the doorway and stepped out. He could hear angry words in the courtyard beyond.

He sighed. In a couple of days, after people stewed for a while, some sort of restitution would have to be made.

Blood Skull muttered, “That’s what happens when a man doesn’t take his domestic duties seriously.”

Flying Hawk shot him a warning glare, then asked, “What of the White Arrow medicine box? Has it been found?”

“No, High Minko.” Blood Skull took a hard breath that swelled his muscular chest. “Warriors are searching the city as we speak. But with the palisade down, the thief could have walked right over the top of it. It wasn’t like when we had gates where warriors would have seen everyone passing.”

Flying Hawk shook his head. “I don’t understand. The Men’s House was full of warriors, wasn’t it?”

Blood Skull shrugged. “Many claim they were awake all night, seeking Power for the coming fight.”

“Come closer. The rest of you, please stand back. I would speak to Blood Skull in private.”

He watched the room rearrange itself, the others crowding into the back. Amber Bead did his best to maintain his distance from the Sky Hand around him.

Blood Skull leaned close. “Yes, High Minko?”

“Did you do as I asked?”

“Yes, High Minko.” Blood Skull’s voice dropped to a whisper. “In your name I ordered most of the warriors north, as you directed. When the Yuchi try to infiltrate, they’ll find a screen of scouts watching every trail.” He hesitated. “Also according to your order, I told them that this was at the war chief’s command. You have told Smoke Shield, haven’t you?”

Flying Hawk sighed; the sense of defeat was welling again. “There are complications.”

Blood Skull’s penetrating stare fixed on him. “High Minko, the war chief
will
find out.”

“I am hoping he won’t until the Council is called tomorrow morning. You have told the tishu minko?”

“Seven Dead knows, and understands. He will back you, as will I.”

“The collapse of the palisade along with the theft of the medicine box may buy us some time. And, as you have just heard, the war chief has other problems.” With any luck Smoke Shield would be pestered all day by Crawfish Clan men demanding satisfaction for the beating of Two Beavers.

“This once,” Blood Skull said, “I hope you are right.” He hesitated again. “I have another report.”

“And that is?”

“The Albaamaha, High Minko, they are moving. It seems that the farmsteads have been abandoned to the west. Half the Albaamaha are heading north, the other half to the south. I’ve had the same report from several bands of warriors traveling here. Do you know anything about this?”

Flying Hawk straightened, calling, “Amber Bead? Could you approach?”

The old Albaamo mikko stepped forward, bowing and touching his forehead in respect. “Yes, High Minko?”

“Blood Skull tells me that Albaamaha families have been seen moving north and south, west of the river. Do you know anything about this?”

Amber Bead looked oddly nervous. “Yes, High Minko. Those moving north are preparing to carry the food you need for the new town. Others are headed south in anticipation of logging activities. The mikkos are fully aware of the number of logs that will need to be cut to repair the palisade.”

Flying Hawk sighed with relief. “A single ray of sunshine
in a day filled with storm. For that, I bless you, Councilor.” He shook his head. “Imagine that. I am surrounded by nothing but trouble and confusion among the Sky Hand, and it is the Albaamaha to whom I can offer thanks for a job well done.”

Some masked irony gleamed behind the old Albaamo’s eyes. “Perhaps it was my desire to go fishing in your pond, High Minko.”

“Quite so. And we shall do that. I promise.” Flying Hawk tapped his fingers on his stone mace. “I send my compliments to your wise mikkos. At least we have solved the Albaamaha problems.”

“Oh, indeed we have,” Amber Bead replied, his head lowered.

“Thank you, my friend. I shall see you tomorrow at the Council. You may go.”

He watched the old man turn and walk softly from the room.

Blood Skull had a curious look on his face as he watched the man leave.

“Yes, Warrior?”

“Oh, nothing,” the man mused.

From the corner of his eye, Flying Hawk thought he saw movement, as if a dark, winged shadow flitted across the wall. When he looked, only the masks hanging from their hooks stared back.

“Nothing, Blood Skull? Then why do I sense that we are balancing on the edge of catastrophe?”

T
rust me.
The words echoed between Morning Dew’s souls as she picked her way along the forest trail. Around her the endless maze of trees seemed to brood and growl. The way was precarious, filled with sticks and branches the fierce wind had ripped from overhead. Here and there she had to circle massive deadfalls where the gale had toppled old and diseased trees.