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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear
People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) (43 page)
BOOK: People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past)
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“And you didn’t tell us?”
“None of this was meant to happen,” she replied.
“You didn’t have to be arrogant when the warriors arrived. We could have been meek. Like little voles hiding in the grass.”
“Yes,” Trader said mockingly, “we didn’t have to be sound asleep when they arrived, either.”
“Dying is a different way to live,” Two Petals said softly. Then she looked out at the water. “I don’t know how Deer Man can stand out there.” She cocked her head, eyes fixed on a spot on the water. Then she frowned as if listening to some voice beyond their hearing. “Only Dancing keeps you from sinking?” She smiled. “That’s why you’re skipping your feet.” A pause. “That’s right. Kick out the droplets of water.”
Trader shook his head. “We’re all going to die.”
Two Petals ignored him, expression on the swirling waters. “Is it going to be bad?” Then she nodded, her shoulders slumping.
“Two Petals?” Trader asked. “What’s going on?”
Old White arched an eyebrow. “Whomever she’s talking to, this is Power, Trader. Let it play out.”
“Power is known to be capricious at best.” Trader snorted derisively. “But for Power, I would have a wife, home, and position.” He paused, adding bitterly, “Why am I even here?”
“To set things right,” Old White answered. “That’s why we’re all here. You just have to trust yourself, that’s all.”
“I’ll trust myself before I trust to Power.”
Old White winced at the anger buried in the young man’s voice. “Trader, you wish to possess what is not yours. Nothing, especially copper, ever belongs to you. It only passes through your hands to another.”
“I could be buried with copper,” he shot back. “I could have it with me forever.”
Old White let him stew for a while before he said, “I saw a grave once, in the bank of the Red Earth River down in Caddo country. The river had changed course, eating away at an abandoned mound. The graves were all spilling into the river. Bones, stone and shell ornaments, fine fabrics—they were all washing away. Even the copper.”
“This is supposed to make me feel better?”
“It is supposed to remind you that the only possessions you ever really have are your souls. Eventually, even your bones will vanish as if they’d never been.”
Trader narrowed an eye. “Then how can you even be sure of the souls?”
“I can’t. Which is all the more reason to live well while you are living.”
“Like Trading my copper among the Natchez or Tunica like I had originally intended?”
“Assuming Power meant for you to do that.” His voice turned mild. “I suspect that we are where we are supposed to be right now.”
“Is it all so simple for you?”
Old White couldn’t help but notice how worried Two Petals had become. She had lowered her gaze to her hands, where they fluttered in mirror motions. The Spirit she’d seen Dancing on the water had warned her of something unpleasant. No doubt about it.
To Trader he asked, “Did you ever see a Healer perform a sucking cure? You know, when he places a tube to a sick man’s side and sucks on it?”
“Don’t be a silly rabbit,” Trader muttered. “Of course I have. He uses sleight of hand to drop some object—a bloody feather, a bit of bone or something—into the bowl so that the sick man thinks it was drawn out of his body.”
“Do you know why?”
“To make the man think something was shot into him
to cause the sickness.” Trader gave him a hard look. “They’ve done it to me on occasion. It’s just a trick.”
to cause the sickness.” Trader gave him a hard look. “They’ve done it to me on occasion. It’s just a trick.”
“No,” Old White insisted. “It isn’t.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Oh, I thought so, too, once upon a time. But I didn’t understand. Not until I was trained by a Tlingit shaman.”
“Ah.” Trader rolled his eyes. “Then, you’ll enlighten me?”
Old White glanced thoughtfully at the water off to the side, where Two Petals had seen her mysterious Deer Man. “Where we see one world, there are two. Our world—the one we see, touch, smell, and taste—and the Spirit World, where Power flows and Dances. We live separate from the Spirit World, Trader. It is parallel to our own, surrounding us, intermixed with ours.”
“So what does that have to do with a shaman sucking a bloody bone from my thigh when I have an ache in my leg?”
“A Healer has to trick the Spirit of the ache into leaving you. That’s what the tube is all about. He places a bit of bone in his mouth, then bites the inside of his lip to make it bleed. Washed in blood, the bone becomes an enticing home for the Spirit. Don’t you see? He uses it as a lure, a more tempting prize for the pain. By drawing it from you to the bit of bone, he can remove it, and then dispose of it in a fire, or bury it.”
“Then why doesn’t he just tell the sick man that’s what he’s doing?”
“Because he believes, and you don’t. So he gives you a reason to believe. Your souls can overcome their reluctance to heal. That’s why Two Petals can see Spirit People, because she isn’t blinded by this world. She accepts the reality of the Spirit World around her. She does not question.”
“But I do? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Don’t you?” Old White asked.
Trader snorted to himself and crossed his arms.
Old White sighed, leaning back.
We’re quite the companions, aren’t we?
We’re quite the companions, aren’t we?
He tried to still his souls, to find the peace he needed. From Two Petals’ depressed and worried expression, her invisible Deer Man had told her something terrible was coming. Old White need only look to the side where the wary Yuchi paddled to have an inkling of just what the terrible thing would be.
T
he Yuchi warriors did not stop at Cattail Town, but hustled right past it, the warriors waving off any inquisitive canoes that came out to inspect the armada. From there on, they were in populated country; the river terraces had been denuded of trees, occasional farmsteads just visible above the banks. Here and there patterns of stakes marked fish weirs, and canoes of fishermen waved warily as they passed, then went back to casting their nets in the shallows.
he Yuchi warriors did not stop at Cattail Town, but hustled right past it, the warriors waving off any inquisitive canoes that came out to inspect the armada. From there on, they were in populated country; the river terraces had been denuded of trees, occasional farmsteads just visible above the banks. Here and there patterns of stakes marked fish weirs, and canoes of fishermen waved warily as they passed, then went back to casting their nets in the shallows.
They passed more towns, the settlements fortified with palisades and one or two platform mounds with square, thatch-roofed buildings visible behind the stockades. Any patch of arable ground had been cleared, and one or two houses were always in sight.
“The Yuchi are doing well,” Trader observed, recovered from his irritation. “I don’t remember so many people the last time I went through here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten years?” Trader studied the fields. “When I was a child, the Yuchi were a force to be reckoned with. They must be a real threat now.”
“Like fluff in the wind,” Two Petals told him emotionlessly. “You aren’t meant to see this. Forget it … cast it from your thoughts. The Children of the Sun are meaningless.”
Trader’s expression hardened. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She stared at him, head cocked expectantly. “Forget, forget. Do that and you won’t have to remember anything.” She grew puzzled. “Remembering, it’s like cutting squares in old fabric.” Then she laughed ironically. “You can put your fingers through the holes.”
Trader didn’t look happy as he turned his attention back to Old White’s canoe, where his precious medicine box and its wealth of copper lay.
Daylight was a fading memory when they finally passed the mouth of a large creek, its swampy confluence thick with young bald cypress. A short distance beyond, a section of the high bluff had slumped and was used as a landing. Tens of canoes were pulled up below a cluster of houses, granaries, and ramadas. In every direction the land was bare, denuded for either cornfields, firewood, or building materials. On the breeze coming from the southwest, Old White could smell the familiar odors of a city: smoke, cooking food, human waste, and humanity.
“What is this place?” he called to the Yuchi as they were brought into the landing.
“Rainbow City,” the war chief called back. “You will wait in your canoes until I receive instructions from the Kala Hi’ki.”
Old White sighed, wondering if he’d end up bristling with arrows should he try to stand to ease the cramps in his old legs.
Two young men, dressed in white aprons, appeared from the gloom. In the torchlight, one walked up. He was tall, with clear eyes, his face painted in black and yellow. A long copper pin ran through the twist of hair on the back of his head. Holding up a beautiful quillwork bag, he muttered a slow incantation, then watched for some reaction.
Old White lifted an eyebrow as the young man studied him. In Trade Tongue, he said, “Whatever the warding was, it didn’t work.”
The young Priest lowered the bag. “What sort of beings are you?”
Old White grunted as he clambered out of the beached canoe, offered his hand to Two Petals, and let Trader climb out by himself. Turning, he reached back for his staff. When finally composed, he said, “I am Old White, known as the Seeker. With me is Two Petals, a Contrary. The man is known along the rivers as Trader. Under the Power of the Trade, I swear to you that we are here to commit no mischief. Our goal is to Trade, hire labor to carry us upstream, and make a portage into the Horned Serpent River.”
“You are bound by the Power of Trade?” the man asked.
“I am. So are my companions.”
He turned his eyes on Two Petals. “And you are the Contrary?”
“Not me,” she muttered darkly. “It’s everyone else who is confused.” She stepped toward him. The young man must have trusted his medicine Power, for he did not back away. She looked into his eyes. “You have no idea what is happening, do you? You’re all staring backward. Everything is moving.” She pointed out at the dark river. “Can’t you see them Dancing out there?”
His expression didn’t change. “Beings with great Power have come to my land. My master, the Kala Hi’ki, and I would know why.”
“A drop of blood leaps to the sky,” she said. “I’m sure you would have no fear of that.”
The faintest flicker showed at the corner of his mouth. “We would return to our mother.”
“Your direction is forward. Mine is past. Front has become back, and your mother scrambles from the west. Even she seeks to return to the womb.” Two Petals smiled. “I died when I became Contrary. I grow younger by the moment.” She hesitated. “There, his gaze is sharpening. Even now I am the center of his vision.” She raised her voice and called out, “You cannot know me through your sight.”
“Who do you talk to?” the young man asked, refusing
to stare around at the air like the nervous warriors were doing.
to stare around at the air like the nervous warriors were doing.
“I talk to the blind man with such sharp eyes.” She laughed. “Things are so much clearer in darkness.” Then her expression changed to wonder. “I think he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
Old White and Trader cast nervous glances at each other.
The Priest nodded to himself. “Bring them. I will take them to the Kala Hi’ki.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” The muscular war chief pointed at the canoes. “They have brought many things. Some of them might be dangerous, vehicles of sorcery and witchcraft.” He licked his lips. “And they have the Split Sky war medicine that vanished from our War House.”
The two Priests conferred in whispers. The speaker nodded before ordering, “Bring their packs. Everything. The Kala Hi’ki and I shall investigate each one.”
The warriors hesitated.
“Do it!” the Priest ordered. “If you are worried about being polluted by the strangers, it has already happened. The Kala Hi’ki and I can’t treat you until we know what medicine they have used and what cleansing is appropriate. Before you go home to your families, you will seclude yourselves in the War House. See no one, talk to no one, and wait for our word.”
Old White gestured to Trader and Two Petals; she seemed preoccupied, as though listening to the voices they could not hear. Taking a position behind the Priests, Old White followed as they wound up through the landing settlement. The houses here were a mixture of new and old. People had flocked out, standing back to watch the show. Some carried cane torches that lit the way.
The beaten trail wound past houses, through a low cut, and onto the flats. Old White was aware of fields to either side, farmsteads consisting of two or three houses clustered here and there. Trader had bent down to scoop
Swimmer into his arms when the local dogs came too close.
Swimmer into his arms when the local dogs came too close.
Glancing over his shoulder, Old White could see the warriors struggling along behind them, heavy packs turning them into ungainly caricatures.
“What are we into now?” Trader wondered.
Old White shrugged. “We are going to meet a beautiful blind man who can see across great distances.”
“I just hope he can see even better up close.”
“Oh?”
“I want him to look inside me and see the purity of my souls.”
“Gods, you’re a brave man.”
“I’m not feeling so brave. Why would you say that?”
BOOK: People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past)
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