People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (56 page)

“He’s already inside with Heron Wing and Pale Cat.”

“No questions about his pack?”

“No. Should there be?”

“I’d hope not.”

Blood Skull shook himself as if dispelling some presentiment, and then they nodded to the guards. “I just hope you can be as persuasive here as you were last night.”

“More so, warrior. Wait and see.”

Seven Dead gestured his respect as they passed the guardian posts, then hesitated at the doorway. “Elder, have you given any thought to afterward?”

“How’s that?”

“No matter what happens today, it has crossed my mind that you might need protection.”

Old White considered that. “I thank you for your offer, but somehow, I think not even Smoke Shield will dare to threaten me.”

Blood Skull said darkly, “That tells me you know nothing of your enemy. A man who will kill someone under the protection of the white arrow won’t hesitate at cracking your skull.”

Old White raised an eyebrow. “I came home to die. If that’s what it takes to bring Smoke Shield down, so be it.”

Flying Hawk tried to keep his legs from trembling as he descended the Sun Stairs. It wasn’t enough that he hadn’t ordered the repairs—men were too busy trying to clean up after the windstorm. This morning his thoughts were on anything but the increasingly treacherous steps. Smoke Shield had caught him just as he stepped out into the great room. His nephew had clamped a hard hand to Flying Hawk’s throat. Jutting his face close, he’d said, “I know what you’ve done, old man. I know the depths of your treachery! If you weren’t on the way to the Council, I’d deal with you right now.”

And he had thrust Flying Hawk away, leaving him to stumble against the wall, coughing and massaging his throat while his heart hammered.

“Gods,” he whispered to himself. “He’s going to kill me for sending those warriors north.”

And Blood Skull? He’d have to be warned. Who knew the extent of Smoke Shield’s rage?

“I’ve been a fool . . . such a fool.” He reached the bottom of the staircase, for once heedless of the pain in
his knee. The ache in his heart drowned any other discomfort.

He bowed to the Tree of Life and then reached out to run his fingers along the curling white stripe on its side. “I have always been tied to the red Power, but today, I can only wish you would smile favorably upon me.” Then he remembered the dead Yuchi, and blood on the white arrow. No, white Power would never forgive that. He switched to the red, rapping it with his knuckles, binding himself to its Power, and continued on his way.

A small collection of people waited around the guardian posts. Today’s Council wouldn’t generate much in the way of excitement. The discussion of the palisade was the most important consideration, though Smoke Shield’s attack on Two Beavers might rear its ugly head.

He touched his forehead in respect as he passed the guardians, and climbed the steps to nod at the hard-eyed guards. What lay behind their worried stares? Some presentiment that boded him ill?

He touched his forehead as he passed the lines of clan totems and sighed, stopping just short of the doorway. Were there a way, he’d be rid of this whole business. He was tired of being high minko, tired of Smoke Shield and his schemes, tired of his entire life.

At the rasping sound of wings, he looked up, but found no great bird hovering above him in the sky.

Willing himself forward, he entered the hallway and stepped into the tchkofa. The fire, as always, was burning brightly. Since the storm, the boys who tended it had found no shortage of snapped wood to replenish the fuel stocks.

The chiefs sat in their respective places, though a crowd had gathered behind the Panther Clan. He walked to his stool behind the altar, aware of Smoke Shield’s cunning glint. The man was smoldering, his anger apparent. But never had Flying Hawk seen his own murder behind those eyes.

Instinctively, he cast a glance at Wooden Cougar, who sat with Cleft Skull, the dent in the latter’s head catching the light. Flying Hawk nodded, feeling curious sympathy for the clan chief and his worry about Two Beavers. There had been truth to the claim that if Smoke Shield had spent more time seeing to his domestic duties, none of this would have occurred. Two Poisons and Smells-His-Death stood at their places, looking slit-eyed at Smoke Shield.

For his part, the war chief stood stiffly, his muscular arms crossed; his unbending expression was for Flying Hawk alone.

Well, let the gaming pieces be cast. What I did, I did for the safety of the people.
If that led Smoke Shield to kill him, so be it. Knowing his people, they would prepare his body with great ceremony and give his souls a proper start to the west. There, if he had the fortitude of Spirit, he would pass through the Seeing Hand as the great constellation set in the west. After that, he only had his murdered brother’s souls to contend with.

He chuckled. After Smoke Shield, it would be a relief.

Flying Hawk clapped his hands, and Seven Dead stepped forward with a cup of black drink. Then, as was proper, the man tipped tobacco into the Eagle Pipe, careful not to touch the leaf. He tamped it with a wooden rod and lit the bowl from the fire.

Flying Hawk stepped forward, taking a drink of the hot, bitter tea, then puffing on the pipe. He exhaled the blue smoke and looked up at the morning light angling through the smoke hole. Then he considered his words. He could sense Power in the room, some brooding presence that demanded satisfaction.

“We send our earnest prayers to you, Breath Giver, and pray that you will bless us with sunshine and rain. We ask you to send us the order and harmony of the white Power. Let it fill our hearts with peace in these
trying times. From the red Power we beg courage, strength, and the creativity to solve the terrible problems we face. Today, here, I ask you to grant us wisdom and health.”

Grunts of assent came from the chiefs. Smoke Shield, he couldn’t help but notice, remained silent.

Flying Hawk took a moment, wondering if this would be the last time he addressed the Council as high minko. One by one, he looked at the chiefs, even nodding to Amber Bead where he stood in the back. The old man behind Seven Dead was unfamiliar. And to his surprise, Heron Wing stood behind Pale Cat and Night Star. Another stranger stood obscured by the shadows in the rear.

Seven Dead and Blood Skull were watching him with a curious intensity. He glanced back at Smoke Shield, could see his barely contained rage. Was this more than just the problem of the palisade?

“Today,” Flying Hawk began, “we must address the situation of the palisade. Our good councilor, Amber Bead—”

“I think there is something more pressing,” Smoke Shield interrupted, stepping forward.

Flying Hawk sighed, turning his weary gaze to his nephew. “Yes, War Chief? What is it?”

Smoke Shield ground his teeth. “May I have the floor?”

“You may.”

Smoke Shield stepped forward, lifted the large shell cup, and drank of the black drink. Then he bent, taking a pull from the pipe and blowing smoke toward the opening. He raised his head to the sunlight. “Breath Giver, hear my words and know they are true. I have come to address this Council, my heart weeping.”

He turned, staring at each chief in turn. “I have come to speak of treachery!”

Flying Hawk shook his head. “There is no treachery. I ordered the warriors to move in your name. I could not—”

“What?” Smoke Shield cried in amazement. “You did
what
?”

Flying Hawk spread his arms. “It is not treachery to order our warriors north to intercept the Yuchi.”

Smoke Shield gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Great Cougar comes from the
west
! Our palisade is down, and you have ordered the warriors to the
north
?”

Flying Hawk explained, “The war chief has been under some distress. His—”

Smoke Shield stomped up to glare into his face. “
You
are Green Snake’s agent! You are the one setting us up for betrayal! And now you have ordered the warriors away! Great Cougar could be here at any moment!”

“This is a fantasy, War Chief. Told to you by your witch. Only you believe that Great Cougar is making some impossible strike at Split Sky City.”

Smoke Shield’s muscles were knotted, his mouth working. “Old man, you may have killed us all!”

Flying Hawk heard the gasp from the chiefs.

“You see,” Wooden Cougar said just loud enough to be heard, “he has lost his wits.”

“
Enough!”
Smoke Shield thundered, his finger lancing out at Wooden Cougar. “Power has sent me a Prophet. Here we sit, blaming each other, and all the while, Green Snake is working his evil to undermine us. I tell you, Great Cougar is coming, and I have no doubts that Green Snake is plotting with the Chahta, as well as the Yuchi. The coward seeks to destroy us so that
he
is declared high minko!”

Pale Cat stepped forward. “How do you know this, War Chief? Tell us what you have heard.” He paused. “You do refer to your brother, don’t you?”

“My brother is a Yuchi traitor!” Smoke Shield turned,
narrowing his eyes. “As to the rest, I have my own sources of information.”

Pale Cat nodded patiently. “Is that what the Yuchi messenger was coming to tell you under the white arrow? That Green Snake was returning to his people? Is that how you know?”

Smoke Shield’s hard lips curled. “I said, I have my sources. And they come straight from Power.”

Blood Skull then stepped forward. “If you knew Great Cougar was headed this way, why did you withdraw most of the scouts from the Horned Serpent River Divide?”

“They were becoming too fond of the Chahta. I told you that. You know that I was setting a trap for Great Cougar, and then you let this old . . . the high minko order them away? Are you plotting with Green Snake, too?”

It was Night Star who asked, “How do you know that Green Snake is plotting against us? From the rumors I’ve heard, all he did was Trade and play chunkey with the Yuchi.”

“Trade and play chunkey?” Smoke Shield laughed, clapping a hand on his thigh. “He sent an assassin to murder our high minko! That must have been some Trade.”

“Next you will be telling us that he murdered the White Arrow captives, and stole their war medicine out of the Men’s House,” Pale Cat said in an even voice.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Seven Dead asked, “So, how did he do all this?”

Smoke Shield turned to Flying Hawk. “From right under our eyes. No one would notice the high minko in the Men’s House. He could have walked right out the door, the White Arrow war medicine in his hands.” His smile was a frightening thing. “Is that it, Uncle? Did you fear me so much that you had to call my cowardly brother back? Don’t you remember how he left?
He didn’t even have the courage to kill that Yuchi captive, and now he marches with them.”

Flying Hawk raised his hands in despair. “You think
I
took the Chahta war medicine? I did no such thing. I know nothing more about Green Snake than what the Yuchi told us.”

Smoke Shield’s expression changed from rage to amazement that Flying Hawk would bring up the Yuchi messenger. “You go too far, Uncle! Do not change the facts. Next you will blame the Yuchi’s murder on me, when all I did was save you from Green Snake’s assassin!”

A strident voice called out, “There was no assassin! You have
lied
all of your life, and it stops now.”

Flying Hawk turned to see the man behind Heron Wing emerge from the shadows. He blinked as the stranger stepped past Pale Cat and into the circle before the fire. Smoke Shield gaped, as if in disbelief.

“Breath Giver take me,” Flying Hawk whispered as recognition dawned. The man—so different, so much older than the boy he had known—could be no other than Green Snake himself!

Green Snake met Flying Hawk’s incredulous gaze, asking, “Might your nephew address this Council, High Minko?”

Flying Hawk hesitated, confused. He took a breath to deny Green Snake’s request.

“You may
not
!” Smoke Shield bellowed. “Warriors! Seize this traitor!”

As Smoke Shield started forward, Flying Hawk placed a hand on his shoulder.
By the gods,
I
am in charge here!
“He will speak, War Chief.” And in a louder voice, “Or are you declaring yourself high minko without the Council’s confirmation?”

Flying Hawk felt the building anger, the boiling hatred seething in Smoke Shield’s body.
Yes, do it. Attack him here, and finish my problems once and for all.

But Smoke Shield, sensing the danger, stepped back.

Through it all, Green Snake had stood, hands on his hips. His hard eyes had burned into Smoke Shield’s, daring him to attack. He hadn’t flinched; not even the slightest flicker of fear had betrayed itself.

Flying Hawk took a good look at him, seeing the corded muscle in his shoulders and arms. He wore a Chief Clan copper headpiece, and though the tattoos remained unfinished, this was a man to be reckoned with.

“You may take the drink, Green Snake.” He indicated the pipe and cup.

With great dignity, Green Snake lifted the black drink, offered it to the sky, and drank. Then he bent, taking a long draw from the Eagle Pipe. When he stood and blew the smoke upward, he called out in a clear voice, “Breath Giver, Power has sent me here. It called me from the north, and I have followed its call. I have come to speak the truth, and make restitution to my clan for the attack on my brother. I have come to bring Power back into balance.”