People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) (57 page)

Read People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) Online

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

BOOK: People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past)
9.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Again the crowd roared.
To one side, an elder twisted a pointed stick into the ground.
Twenty casts,
Old White thought.
Then at the end of them, my future will be decided.
In all of his life he had never felt such a sense of futility.
Trader and Born-of-Sun were talking like old friends, each calm, both congratulating each other on their casts. They acted as if they had played thus for all of their lives: a friendly rivalry.
The notion formed in Old White’s head.
Gods, does he even want to win?
The rumor had been running through the city like a scalded dog. “The chief would have the visitors stay. He has offered a cousin to Trader for a wife. The Contrary would live with us.”
Old White’s heart began to hammer, and he looked at Trader anew. The man stood relaxed, no hint of the gravity of their situation reflected in his easy smile.
Do I dare try to stop this?
“Wait for Power,” Two Petals said, eyes focused on the distance. “Power knows all.”
Born-of-Sun cast again. The crowd cried happily as the lance imbedded at about the same distance from the toppled stone as before. After the Priest measured, he held the string up for the audience. More cheering.
Trader cast, and Old White stepped forward, as if he could will the slim lance to its destination. He held his breath as the priest measured, then called, “Point to Trader, by a full knot!”
Again the crowd shouted happily. Old White could see individuals slipping away, headed in the direction of the stakeholders. If it stayed this close, even more would be slipping away, trying to change their bets in spite of the fact the stakeholders would have declared it closed at the first cast.
“How about you, Seeker?” the Kala Hi’ki asked. “Are you all right?”
“I believe I am a bit anxious.”
The scarred blind man drew a breath that whistled through his nose holes. “This is a thing of Power, Seeker. This is done in the light of Mother Sun, on her special day. You do not know the ramifications of your journey. Things may have changed at Split Sky City since you were summoned. Do not fret; if Power wants you to go, it will happen.”
How can I tell him? What would make him understand why I
must
go back?
“You could tell it like it actually is,” Two Petals said, again seeming to read his thoughts. “I see a stick in the current. It cannot help but go where the river wills.”
He drew a breath. Gods, what a mess!
The points wavered back and forth. One to Trader, another to Born-of-Sun. Each cast was so close, each measured by a knot, or half knot. Old White ground the few teeth remaining in his head. Images of his past were slipping out from between his souls, only to be beaten back by force of will alone.
“I can smell your worry, Seeker,” the Kala Hi’ki said. “Perhaps I should have brewed some of the Contrary’s tea for you. It calms the nerves, settles the thoughts. Your souls are in need of soothing.”
“My souls may jump out of my body if this turns out wrong.”
The score was tied at five and five. Old White’s mouth had gone dry. Was the entire match going to be this close?
Then, to his horror, Born-of-Sun took two points in a row. The crowd had grown increasingly silent. Now they burst out in gleeful cries. Only to fall silent again as Trader won two.
High above, an eagle floated into view, as if curious about the proceedings. People pointed, sure that the bird signified a blessing for Born-of-Sun. A jubilant mood
seemed to flow through the crowd, lifting them upon its wave, only to have Trader make the next point to pull ahead.
Old White’s heart leaped. Gods, there was a chance.
Born-of-Sun then tied it.
A chill formed in Old White’s bones, creeping out through his flesh as the nineteenth cast was made. Born-of-Sun won by a knot’s length.
“Twenty,” Two Petals said positively. “It won’t be enough.”
Old White felt his souls begin to drift. A sodden ache had started deep inside.
Gods, it won’t be enough.
What would he do? The voices of the
Katsinas
whispered in his memory.
Home. You must go home. It is time.
A roar went up from the crowd. The Priest’s voice rang high and clear. “Point to Trader! They tie at ten apiece.”
Old White staggered, his legs weak beneath him.
“One more! One more!” the crowd began to shout.
Old White stared at them in dismay. People were bounding up and down; Swimmer was barking gleefully, his tail wagging. Old White was too dazed to stop the dog as Swimmer charged over to bark at Trader’s feet, his tail swishing, pure delight in his eyes.
To his credit, Trader bent down, rubbing Swimmer’s hair, whispering in his ear. Then he rose, calling, “One more! We will break the tie!”
The crowd whistled, stamped, and shouted.
Old White realized that Two Petals had stepped beside him, her hand on his elbow, steadying him. “Power swirls about us. Feel it? Like wings in still air. Beating all around.”
“Gods!”
Help me!
Born-of-Sun took his mark, following his ritual. Then he started, sprinting forward to release the stone, taking another couple of steps, and his arm shot forward. The lance spun in the sunlight, flying like a thing alive as it arched down. It impacted point first, not a hand’s distance from the stone.
The shout from the people rose like thunder from the earth.
Trader himself applauded, a look of satisfaction on his face. The people noted it, their exuberance riotous.
“How can he beat that?” Old White cried weakly.
As if lost in a Dream, he watched as Born-of-Sun returned, nodding to greetings along the way.
Trader took the mark, and then, breaking his routine, he looked directly into Old White’s eyes, an odd smile on his lips. Old White staggered as if he’d been struck. Only Two Petals’ support kept him from toppling.
He’s going to throw it. That’s what that knowing smile was. He is ready to stay here with Born-of-Sun.
A sickness began to bloom within his souls. Like a fungus, it began consuming him as Trader took the mark, rolled his shoulders, and sprinted forward. The release was fast, a blur of motion as the stone kissed the ground, shooting forward. Trader shifted his lance to his right hand, took another four steps, and cast at the mark.
Old White watched the last of his life fly away with that gleaming shaft of wood. It spun in the golden sunlight. Then it arced gracefully toward the ground. He had forgotten Two Petals as she supported his weight, could only see the stone slowing, veering to the left.
The lance seemed to hang in the air, and then it dropped. The sharp point slammed into the center of the stone with a loud
clack.
Wood splintering, the broken shaft leaped futilely into the sky, only to fall back and bounce, shivering on the ground.
A terrible silence hung, as if the entire world had drawn breath, afraid to release it.
“A hit!” called the Priest. “Trader wins!”
Even then, the crowd seemed frozen, as if they could not believe what they had just seen. Slowly, first with nods, then a couple of calls, the applause built. People were gyrating on their feet, clapping their
hands, whistling, and screaming. Wolf Tail’s warriors had all they could do just holding them back.
Old White, mouth open, turned to stare at Trader, who was clasping Born-of-Sun’s arm, a warm smile beaming on his face. Even Born-of-Sun seemed shocked, but was making the best of it. He nodded, said something polite, and then reached down to ruffle Swimmer’s fur. Standing, he motioned for silence. It took longer than even a bad chief should have had to wait.
Finally, the crowd stilled enough that he could call out, “We have had the judgment of Mother Sun! Trader has won. And in so doing, does us all honor. The stakeholders will release the debts, and then we have a ballgame to play!”
The crowd didn’t sound as enthusiastic this time, or so it seemed to Old White. Many were no doubt realizing how much they had bet.
“Are you all right?” the Kala Hi’ki asked again.
Dazed and drained, Old White swallowed. “I think I need to go sit down somewhere.”
 
 
O
ld White rested in the quiet solitude of the temple, his eyes on the gleaming reliefs that hung from the walls. Firelight shone off the copper and made the colors come alive. For the moment, he was just happy to breathe, overjoyed that he had been able to walk back here on his own rather than be carried by some sturdy young man. As to their winnings from the chunkey game, he had no idea what to do with them. For the moment, the wealth had been placed in a storehouse. They certainly had no way to take it with them.
He looked up as one of the young Priests led the Kala Hi’ki into the room. Then the younger man turned, walking back out into the night.
With the surety of a sighted man, the Kala Hi’ki walked over and seated himself beside Old White. He sighed, remarking, “I am not as young as I once was. The Sunset Blessing almost exhausted me.”
“I never want to pass another day like this one.” He glanced up at the image of the Yuchi hero bringing home the sorcerer’s head. “I should be thankful. But somehow, I’m not.”
“Life would have been good for you here. I’m not sure what awaits you at Split Sky City. You said you were going there to die.” He hesitated. “If it’s just being close to your Ancestors that matters, you could die here. We could ensure that your bones made it home to rest among them.”
“I appreciate the offer. The thing is, I have unfinished business there. Something I must see to.”
“Ah, your great secret.”
Old White nodded, fairly sure the Kala Hi’ki could see it even without eyes.
“Power has mysterious ways.”
“Something has been bothering me,” Old White said. “How did you make it home after escaping from Split Sky City? I would hear that story. I think I need to know it.”
The Kala Hi’ki paused reflectively. “I took a blow to the head during a fight with the Chikosi. When I came to, my skull was splitting with pain and I was being carried on a pole, hanging from my hands and wrists. I thought nothing could hurt so much.” He chuckled dryly. “I was so very wrong.
“They took me, paraded me around, and, as is the custom, I was given to Flying Hawk … for he was only recently confirmed high minko. And he had successfully beaten off my raid. I, who went to the Chikosi to take captives, had become one.”
He seemed to be staring into the past behind his bound eye sockets. “You can imagine what they did to me on the square. People tell me it hurts just to see what they did to my body. Day after day, I was burned and cut. My eyes,
well they thought that was the worst, but it helped actually, not being able to see what I had become.
“Then one day, Flying Hawk came, telling me, ‘You must live just one more day, and then my nephew—he who will become high minko after me—will emerge from the Men’s House. I will allow him the honor of cutting your heart from your body. You will be my gift to him … his first act as a man.’”
The Kala Hi’ki nodded his head. “I prayed for that to happen soon. My souls were wandering, passing in and out of my body. Perhaps that is why we have two nostrils. Without a nose, mine could enter and leave freely.
“Then in the night, the boy came, saying his name was Green Snake, and that he was too cowardly to do this thing. He told me he had sneaked out of the Men’s House with no one knowing. And he cut me down, ground what was left of my right hand into the earth while I lay there, and urinated on me.” The Kala Hi’ki snorted through his open nostrils. “It was without honor.”
He paused. “I remember hearing Singing, beautiful Singing. So when I could finally crawl, I headed for the sound of it. I inched along for what seemed an incredible distance, and each time I made a move, my flesh screamed. I remember tumbling down a long steep hill. Talk about pain? It drove my souls from my body.”
He took a breath. “When I came back to myself, I followed the Singing again, and splashed into water. Drowning, I thought, would at least be quick, and it would save me recapture when the Chikosi followed my trail. So I crawled into the water, pleading that I be allowed to drown quickly. I went down, sinking, hearing the Singing grow louder all the time.
“I think I was dead, for my body settled into the deep and kept going, downward, ever down. The Singing grew louder, and something rubbed against me. I could feel it take me in its mouth. For a long time it swam, bearing me down into the Underworld. I think it carried me through one of the portals, for I remember lying on
moss, seeing the most beautiful creature: a giant horned snake, his body gleaming with all the colors of light. Me, a man with no eyes, I saw this thing, so it had to be with my souls.”
The Kala Hi’ki rubbed the stubs of his maimed hand. “Horned Serpent licked my wounded skin, and where he did the scars healed. I will always remember the eyes, like great crystals of quartz backlit by the sun. And the scales, they shimmered, rainbowlike.

Other books

Worth Dying For by Denise, Trin
Cross Hairs by Jack Patterson
The Decadent Cookbook by Gray, Durian, Lucan, Medlar, Martin, Alex, Fletcher, Jerome
The First Affair by Emma McLaughlin
The True Prince by J.B. Cheaney
Rocking Horse Road by Nixon, Carl
The Death of All Things Seen by Michael Collins