People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (58 page)

Flying Hawk’s face took on a look of awe. “Bear Tooth’s war ax! Gods, how did you get it?”

“I picked it up from where it stood propped on its special tripod beside the hearth.” Old White tightened his grip on its stone handle. “And I walked back, stepped into their room, and
drove this blade into the back of Bear Tooth’s accursed head!
”

Old White took a breath. The heavy ax shook in his grip. Slowly, he lowered it. “That is why you cannot order Green Snake from Sky Hand lands. You are not clan elder, Grape.
I am!
”

Trader stood dumbfounded. Gods, even he had trouble believing it.

He saw Flying Hawk’s awe turn to disbelief. The man staggered backward, propping himself on the tripod. His eyes fixed on the polished black stone ax. “He would have killed you for touching that.”

“He would have killed us all,” Old White said softly. “Once I made sure you and Acorn were safely out of the building, I went back. I pulled his body off of Mother’s. He’d bled all over her. I started to drag her, trying to move her to somewhere where I could sponge the blood from her dead face. Then she coughed. She blinked, and I propped her up against one of the beds.”

Old White sadly shook his head. “The blood was everywhere, and she touched it, looking first at the red smears on her fingers and then at Bear Tooth. She stared at me as if I were some incomprehensible being, like something out of her Dreams. I was told to go and find warm water, fetch some cloths.”

Old White stared thoughtfully at the ax. “When I came back, she’d poured hickory oil all over herself. Then she reached down, picked up another of the jars, and . . .”

“What did she do, Seeker?” Green Snake prompted in the silence.

The old man looked at him. “She smashed it in the
fire, Trader. And the flames . . . The flames . . .” He closed his eyes, the weight of the stone ax pulling at his slumping shoulders.

“We are to believe this?” Smoke Shield asked.

“That’s when the Power began to change,” Green Snake said, realization dawning. “That’s why we were called back. So that the Seeker . . . Hickory, could tell the tale. It’s time to heal the wounds, to call ourselves back into harmony with Power.”

“And how will you do that?” Smoke Shield kicked out at the war medicine shining in the sunlight. “With an old box?”

“It’s too late, Rattle,” Green Snake told his brother. “The truth is free . . . no matter what you do to us. You are exposed, destroyed. You will never be high minko now.”

Smoke Shield laughed. “How wrong you are! The Prophet has told me—”

Smoke Shield never finished. At that moment, a man hastened through the entry, calling, “My chief!” He was young, wearing a brown hunting shirt. He raced along the back wall, whispering to Wooden Cougar. The Crawfish Clan chief listened, shock expressed on his face. Then he stood. In a hoarse voice, he stated, “Two Beavers is dead.”

A rustle of fabric was accompanied by the dark looks shot between the clan chiefs.

“Murder,” Two Poisons said, turning eyes on Smoke Shield.

Wooden Cougar pointed at Smoke Shield. “Either restitution must be made, or the same punishment must be meted. Those are the laws of our people. To do otherwise is to invoke blood feud between our clans!”

“The man was with my wife!” Smoke Shield bellowed. “He was
in her bed
!”

“Smoke Shield is right! There are extenuating circumstances,” Flying Hawk snapped, but his heart
didn’t seem to be in it as he kept staring wide-eyed at the Seeker.

Green Snake shook his head, seeing the way it would go. If something wasn’t done, the Council was going to tear itself apart. Even now, Flying Hawk still insisted on defending Smoke Shield? It was lunacy!

Then Green Snake heard it: clear, as though disconnected from the growing din in the tchkofa. The Song was so sweet—just as it had been when he was a child. He glanced down at the medicine box, hearing what Two Petals must have that night in the Kaskinampo camp.

“I will offer restitution for my brother!” Green Snake shouted over the din. He reached down, unfastening the straps. “But it will come with conditions.”

“What conditions?” the fuming Wooden Cougar asked.

Green Snake ran his fingers along the wood, feeling the Power. It began to swell, running from the box through his fingers, hands, and arms. “The war medicine is returned to our people. That part of the Power is restored. But it deserves the care of those who would respect it. Not some war chief who calls it an old box and kicks at it with his toe. Not a war chief who kills an Albaamo councilor, rapes his wife, and then murders innocent people while dressed as a Chaktaw. The war medicine is for a people who do not murder messengers bearing the white arrow!”

Wooden Cougar raised a fist. “Then what do you offer, Green Snake?”

“This!” He flipped the lid back, lifting the edge of the box. He was watching Smoke Shield’s eyes as the heavy copper thumped onto the floor.

Gasps came from around the room. The sunlight shot brilliant beams of copper-colored light that filled the tchkofa. It shone on the faces of the chiefs as they moved closer.

Wonder grew in Smoke Shield’s eyes. His mouth dropped open, arms spreading, as if to take in the copper’s reflected brilliance.

Green Snake cried, “I offer copper in restitution for my brother’s murder of the man Two Beavers. I do this with the condition that he leaves this land, that he divorces the Panther Clan woman known as Heron Wing.” He turned hard eyes on Smoke Shield. “And when you leave, you will
never
come back.”

“By Breath Maker, it’s beautiful!” Smoke Shield whispered as he bent down, running his fingers over the copper. “It’s just as she said.”

“Where is the Contrary?” Green Snake asked.

“By the river, waiting.” Smoke Shield gestured off toward the canoe landing, only vaguely aware of the chiefs who had come to crowd around. “. . . For this.”

“That is your life, Brother. What’s it worth? Heron Wing?”

“Take her!”

“The murder of the Yuchi messenger?”

“What does it matter? He was just a Yuchi.”

“He was under the protection of the white arrow!”

“My Power is
red,
you fool! And with this, it’s complete!” Smoke Shield bent, lifting the heavy piece. “You said it’s mine to give?”

Green Snake nodded, his heart beginning to pound. “I offered it for your life.”

“With this, I shall become
greater
than the lords of Cahokia!” Smoke Shield turned and bolted for the door. Lowering his shoulders, he knocked Blood Skull and Seven Dead out of the way. In a flash, he was outside.

“Smoke Shield, wait!” Flying Hawk called hoarsely. Tears had filled the old man’s eyes, streaking down his cheeks. “Take that,
and you condemn both of us
!”

“That was offered to us!” Wooden Cougar stepped forward, his fist shaking in threat.

Old White leaned close. “Trader, we’d best follow. If the Contrary’s in the middle of this, she may need us.”

The surface of the river looked glassy and smooth in the morning light. It reflected a golden sheen as sunlight sent fingers down into the water. Two Petals sat in the bow of the small dugout she’d chosen. Dragging it down to the shore had been a trial, but she’d managed. Now she waited, her back cupped in the concave hollow where the bow had been scooped out. She ignored the curious stares of the Traders where they sat by their ramadas. The women who walked down to dip ceramic and gourd jars into the water shot curious glances her way. Two fishermen were carefully stowing their trotline, ensuring that the bone hooks, rope, and wooden floats didn’t tangle.

She closed her eyes, drawing in the scents of the landing. Time was slowing around her. As it did, her heart beat with relief.

Then—ever so faintly—she heard the first faint strains of Singing. It rose from the water around her. She smiled at the growing strength of the Song. “My husband comes.”

A voice near her said,
“He will make you a good match.”

She opened her eyes to see Deer Man. He stood with his hoofed feet merged in the wood of a nearby canoe. Sunlight glistened on the antlers growing out of his head. A smile lit his face, and he had thrown back his deer-hide cape. “I want to thank you for your help coming to this place,” she said.

“I shall visit you,”
Deer Man promised.

“My husband and I will welcome you. Together, we shall Sing and Dance.”

Some of the nearer women backed away, staring at the empty canoe where Deer Man stood on his thin legs.

The Song was growing louder now, rising and falling. Deer Man began Dancing, his body weaving with the melody. Two Petals sighed, a thrill shooting through her body. She could feel time beginning to drift away, slowing. It was as if she could see the self of her past merging with that of her coming present: two shadowy images slowly slipping into one.

Overhead, a marvelous crow spiraled out of the sun’s light. Brilliant colors of red, blue, yellow, green, and violet reflected from his iridescent feathers. She watched the bird soar in ever-decreasing circles. “Have you come to watch as well?”

“It isn’t every day that a marriage such as this takes place,”
Many Colored Crow cried with a laugh.

The women, she noticed, hurried away with their water jars, casting worried glances over their shoulders. The fishermen had stopped, staring wide-eyed. They tossed the rest of their trotline and bait into the canoe and pushed off. Paddles flashed in the sunlight as they left. Within moments, the shoreline was empty.

“They don’t understand,” she told Many Colored Crow.

Whippoorwill walked down the slope past the Traders. They didn’t see the great black Spirit wolf that walked by her side, his yellow eyes gleaming. Two Petals smiled as Whippoorwill came to a stop behind the canoe. The Albaamo woman wore a plain white dress, her dark eyes meeting Two Petals’. Her fingers traced patterns over the wolf’s back. “Once again, we cross in time, Sister.”

Two Petals said, “My friends will need your counsel in the coming years.”

“I will Dance for you . . . always,”
Whippoorwill said through the Dream.

Two Petals lowered her gaze to Whippoorwill’s
belly. “He will grow up to be a great mikko for your people.”

“He will lead them into the future.”
She glanced up the slope.
“They come.”

Two Petals followed her gaze. Smoke Shield appeared, the muscles of his legs flexing as he came trotting down the beaten trail. The heavy copper plate shot beams of light this way and that. The Traders above the landing stopped short, gaping. Many rose to their feet as Smoke Shield passed.

Two Petals heard the calls of dismay and let the words pass through her. Time continued to slow, her two selves drifting ever closer.

“Are you prepared, my husband?”

“Yes.”
His Song grew, echoed by the river, picked up by the shore and the trees. Deer Man stamped his feet, heedless of the wooden canoe he Danced through.

Two Petals closed her eyes, her souls following Smoke Shield’s approach. At the top of the landing, Trader and Old White hurried into view at the head of a group of chiefs. And behind them, she knew, came a growing crowd.

“They come to witness,”
her husband Sang in his melodious voice.

“The offering is almost here.”

“I know.”

Eyes closed, she watched Smoke Shield pant his way toward her. The man’s chest was rising and falling, his eyes agleam with excitement. Oblivious, he stopped at the canoe’s stern, stating, “I brought the copper!”

“Then your choice is made. Come, push us out into the river.”

“To make the offering?”

“I have told you the price.”

He carefully lowered the heavy copper into the canoe before pushing them out into the current. The small craft lurched as he jumped into the stern. Onshore, Deer
Man was leaping, bending, his antlers flashing this way and that. Many Colored Crow circled close, his feathers rasping in the air. Her husband’s Song permeated water, wood, and rang from the copper.

“Can you hear it?” she asked.

“Hear what?” Smoke Shield asked.