People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) (47 page)

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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear

BOOK: People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past)
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“Gods, it all makes sense.” Trader knotted his fists.
“You asked for honesty, Kala Hi’ki? I think I know when this happened. I was told that when I finished my initiation into the Men’s House, my uncle had a special present to celebrate the occasion. I think I was supposed to finally kill you.”
The Kala Hi’ki hadn’t moved, his slow breathing whistling through the holes in his face.
Trader laughed bitterly. “So, there it is. The circles have turned. If you were that Yuchi warrior in the square, Power has played its game. Now I am yours. If it will bring you peace, Kala Hi’ki, tie me to your square. I can only hope that I face it with the courage and honor that I heard you showed.”
“Trader,” Old White warned, but the young man waved it down.
“No, it is all right. Perhaps this is what I was brought here to do, Seeker. To make this decision. If my death on the square restores the balance, if it brings harmony between the white and the red, I will do this thing. From the night I left, I imagined my brother’s souls, angry and wailing, unable to travel to the Land of the Dead. He cannot rest until I have paid for his murder. If I die here, his souls can finally take the route westward and make the leap through the Seeing Hand when it meets the western horizon.”
He is a fool! Gods, how am I going to get him out of this?
Old White considered the wealth of their Trade. It might just be enough to buy the young idiot’s life. Though the gods alone knew how they’d manage to finish the journey. Traders without Trade cut a rather ridiculous figure.
He studied the Kala Hi’ki. The time would have to be right. Now was not the moment; the man was reliving those terrible days on the square, feeling the pain as burning cane torches were being pressed against his naked flesh, remembering the horror of having his eyes ripped from their sockets. But later, when he was over the first crashing waves of rage, yes, that would be the time.
The Kala Hi’ki surprised him when he climbed unsteadily to his feet. “I must consider this. Neither of you is to leave this room. If one of you runs, I will have you hunted down. Then the three of you will hang from the squares together. At the solstice, we will burn you, one by one.” With that he turned on his heel and left them to stare hopelessly into the fire.
T
he nagging ache in her bladder finally forced Two Petals to claw her way through the spinning images in her head. The action of coming back to her body was a misery. For days she had been overwhelmed, panicked at the visions of her future. Deer Man had assured her that a terrible trial was coming.
I don’t want to do this anymore.
Seek as she might, there was no way out. For the rest of her life, she would be Contrary.
The whispers in her head told her terrible things. Images of murky water, gleaming rainbow scales, and sunlight flashing on copper left her confused. Angry black eyes bored into hers, seeking her souls. She could see the ugly scar on the side of his head as his hands slipped over her bare skin. Images of a room, a ceiling of knot-filled poles, and a flickering fire were tinged with darkness. His muscular body settled on hers. She could almost feel his hot shaft driving into her.
I will be at his mercy … .
Before that, people would stare at her, whispering about her, plotting terrible things. They would call her a witch. Then, sometime when she least expected it, they would sneak out of the night, smack her brains out, and burn her body.
Why can’t they just leave me alone?
She opened gummy eyes, aware of a terrible headache and the pressing needs of her bladder. Her stomach
rubbed like a hard knot against her backbone. How long since she’d eaten?
She sat up, confused. The room was small, a low fire sending tendrils of smoke to pool against the poles of the ceiling. Someone had placed a beautifully woven blanket over her, and soft hides cushioned her from a pole bed built against the wall. With trembling hands, she pulled the blanket aside and swung her legs out.
“I was wondering when you would awake.”
She gasped, aware that a man crouched to one side of the fire. She knew that ruined face, had seen it in her Dreams. He wore a fold of cloth over his eyes, and the two nostril holes reminded her of a snake’s.
“Where am I?”
“In the temple of the Yuchi, as we are called. The name is wrong, of course. We are the Tsoyaha. In Trader Tongue we are the Children of the Sun.”
“What do they call you?”
He chuckled. “I am called Kala Hi’ki. It began as a joke. It comes from one of our most prized stories. It seems that once, long ago, a stranger with great Power came down from the rainbow. This mysterious being lived among the Tsoyaha and taught us many of our rituals: the arts of Healing; the proper ways for the Yuchi to behave; and how to find the path eastward to the Sky World, a place where our Ancestors live that we call Yubahe.
“After the mysterious stranger lived among us for some time, Mother Sun began to act strangely. She would arise from her home in the east, then race up into the sky before hanging there, as if afraid to move.
“This miraculous sky being was called Kala Hi’ki. He told the bravest warrior, ‘Something is wrong with Mother Sun. Are you brave enough to go to the end of the earth and see what is frightening her? I warn you now it must be a terrible sorcerer, one who has Power enough to frighten your Mother. Do you have the courage to slay this sorcerer and bring his head back?’
“Being the greatest of the Tsoyaha, the warrior agreed that he did. Kala Hi’ki gave the warrior a special war club made from a turkey tail. And he said, ‘With this you must strike the sorcerer. The club will only work if you aim your blow at the back of his neck, for that is the only place such a terrible sorcerer is vulnerable. Should you hit him anywhere else, he will turn and kill you in a most dreadful way.’
“For days the warrior traveled, forever to the east, until one day he reached the edge of the world. There he spied two caves. Hiding in some bushes, he settled down to watch.
“Sure enough, night came, and he was frightened, for monsters exist at the edge of the world. But he was the bravest of our people. That next morning, as he had been told, Mother Sun emerged from her cave. Her light was brilliant, and warmed him after the cold and terrifying night.
“That was when the sorcerer popped out of the second cave. He prepared himself, then sprang out at Mother Sun, waving his arms and screaming in a most hideous manner. Because of his Power, Mother Sun fled up the sky until she was out of his reach.
“The warrior saw his chance, for the evil sorcerer was so preoccupied and gleeful at his Power, he did not watch what was behind him. With one mighty blow, the warrior struck the sorcerer in the back of the neck. As Kala Hi’ki had promised, the sorcerer’s head tumbled from his body. The warrior stared, afraid to believe his luck.
“Now he had to bring the head back. But when he went to pick it up, the head blinked, the mouth moving like a fish’s does when swallowing air. The warrior’s courage fled. Three times he tried to pick up the head, and three times he couldn’t summon the resolve to touch it. Finally, on the fourth attempt, he steeled his heart, reached down, and knotted his fingers in its hair.
“Then the most terrible part of the journey began.
You see, every night the severed head would talk to the warrior. It would tell him, ‘You must leave me and run home, for your wife is lying with another man.’ The next day it would say, ‘You must leave me. Your mother is sick and dying, and only you can save her.’ Day after day, the head told him terrible things. Once it was that Kala Hi’ki himself was an evil Spirit that was poisoning his people. But the warrior kept to his task.
“Finally, he returned to the Tsoyaha in triumph, and discovered that his wife had lain with no other man. That his mother had never been sick, and so on. That first night they buried the head, thinking it would die in the ground. But imagine the people’s surprise when they awakened the next day to find the head lying atop the grave, still spouting lies.
“‘Throw it in a fire and burn it up!’ the people cried. So they went and found wood. They kindled a great bonfire and threw the head in. There it burned for the entire day. So imagine their consternation when they awakened the second morning, and found the head atop the ashes, still spouting lies.
“‘Tie the head to the tallest tree!’ they shouted. Once again they tried, climbing the tallest oak in the forest. They went to bed that night knowing that the terrible head was finished. So, imagine their surprise when they awakened the following morning to find the head on the ground beside the dead oak. That is why even today, acorns fall from the oak. If you look, acorns still have heads of hair like the sorcerer’s.
“In despair, they went to Kala Hi’ki and said, ‘What do we do to kill this sorcerer’s head?’
“Kala Hi’ki thought, and said, ‘You are tying it to the wrong tree.’ He gathered them together and led them to the cedar tree. ‘There, tie the sorcerer’s head on the highest branch.’ This the people did, and that night they went to bed hoping that Kala Hi’ki was right. Now, the next morning they awakened, and one by one, filed out into the forest. There, the cedar stood still vibrant and
alive, and on its highest branch, the sorcerer’s head was dead. Then they looked at the tree and saw that it was streaked with the sorcerer’s blood. That is why to this day the cedar is sacred, and its wood still red, stained forever by the sorcerer’s blood.”
He smiled slightly. “My people called me Kala Hi’ki because I once left to go to war. When I finally came back to them it was as a mysterious stranger. Not the handsome young man they had known, but the one you see before you. Nothing was left of the brave warrior they had known. Not his name, nor his laughter, nor even his souls. What came back was entirely different. Power had come to live within me, and I have belonged to it ever since. I am indeed the mysterious stranger to them.”
“Do I know this place?” She looked around. “Oh, yes. Been here before. Like leaves blowing through the forest.”
“Your souls were overwhelmed when you broke through my protection. Your companions carried you here on my orders.”
“Does your bladder hurt, too?”
“Use the pot there beside the bed.” He laughed. “I won’t watch.”
“You won’t hear, either.”
“Contrary, there are few secrets left for me. We are as we are made, and no more.”
She used the pot, staring hesitantly at him. “I have nothing for you.”
“You are a Contrary. You have everything.” A pause. “Hungry?”
“Couldn’t eat a bite.”
He stood, walked to the doorway with the same assurance as a man with sight, and returned moments later with a warm corn-and-bean stew laced with bits of meat. A horn spoon stuck up from the fragrant gruel. “There is more where that came from.”
She attacked the bowl ravenously.
“Can you hear them?” he asked.
“I can’t even hear you.”
“You are distracted for the moment. It’s worse when you think about it. When your senses are lowered.” He hesitated. “Two Petals, when you finish your stew, I will need you to drink this tea I have made. It will help you to focus, to enter my world for a time.”
“I don’t want to know what’s in it.”
“It is a weak mixture of herbs, but mostly chopped licorice root, blackhaw, and an infusion made from pipe plant root. I have added a little sassafras root for taste.”
She took the cup he indicated, sniffed it, and drank the concoction. “Aren’t you glad I’m not interested in what this is supposed to do to me?”
“I am hoping it will calm the voices.”
“Why would you care?”
“Because you are so Powerful.” He paused. “Tell me about the voices.”
“Some are real; others aren’t. Just like you’re not real, and then I wake up and here you are. Dreams become real; the real become Dreams. As if there was a difference.” She cocked her head; one of the voices in her head was whispering just below the threshold of her understanding. Was it trying to warn her of something?
He asked gently, “What is going to happen at Split Sky City, Two Petals? You can tell me backward if you like.”
She sighed. “You can’t know about that. It’s in the future, and you’re all backward.”
“But I do know. I saw you, remember? When you Danced with Sister Datura at Cahokia, you saw me.”
“I remember. You turned into a shimmering darkness, slipping away from me.”
“I didn’t know who or what you were.”
“Me. I’m just plain old me. Nothing here. Emptiness that’s full of everything.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that. The Power ebbs and flows through you.” He tilted his head, as if straining to hear her. “Is the tea beginning to take effect?”
“How will I know?”
“Hopefully you should relax. You worry a lot, don’t you?”
She glanced down at the food bowl. “Sometimes, like at Lightning Oak Town, I’m so excited. I feel ready to burst from my bones. Then, like now, I see nothing but darkness, and death. Sometimes the invisible voices tell me terrible things. Other times they tell me wonderful revelations about secret things, like the bugs under leaves.”
He nodded, as if understanding something. “I think I understand. Great happiness that lasts for a while, followed by periods of misery.”
“Up and down. Up and down.” She laughed. “I want to be a log lying in the forest, covered with moss. Old logs move very slowly. They just grow flat and hollow. Instead I’m a canoe rising and falling on huge waves, like Old White tells about on the great oceans.” Her voice rose in desperation. “I want the world
to slow down
!”
“The tea will help.” A pause. “Did you always hear the voices?”
“No. When I was little, everything was all right. It used to be I could do normal things. Gather wood, cook food. Then the voices started to speak inside my head. I remember the first time: I was fleshing a deer hide for Father. You know, chopping the tissue and meat away with a bone flesher. Then, as clear as anything, the deer’s voice told me to keep chopping. I remember it saying, ‘Harder! Harder! You’ll never clean me like that.’ And the harder I chopped at the hide, the more frantic the voice became. ‘You’ll see sunlight through the hide,’ it told me. I hammered a hole through the skin, and it said, ’The hole isn’t big enough.” So I kept at it even though my arms were aching, and I was out of breath. I was frantic to see the sunlight shine through the hide.”

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