People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) (59 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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“It placed you right where you need to be,” she said simply. “And we have a part to play … assuming you live that long.” She turned her attention back to the river. “The brothers are coming ever closer. Blood has been spilled and cries for vengeance. Old fires still burn
in men’s souls. Power balances on so fine a thread … .” Her voice trailed away, her attention fixed on something in the river.
Paunch hurried over, fearful that she was watching a canoe load of warriors making shore just below them. It would be just his luck to have to run—and his pot full of cooked fish too hot to handle! Reaching her side, he peered cautiously over. The steep bank had been undercut by the current, and a stone’s throw below him, the thin section of beach lay empty.
Paunch vented a sigh of relief. “What is it? What do you see down there?”
“See?” she asked absently. “Can’t you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Singing. The most wonderful Singing. He’s there, waiting. Watching the present slipping away.”
“Who? Who’s watching?” He glanced anxiously back at the forest.
“He knows they are coming.”
“They, who?”
“A seed to be planted deep inside me. Copper, and a Contrary. Your new masters, with wealth to humble high chiefs.” She gave him a searching glance. “Are you ready?”
“Gods, girl. Do you always have to talk in nonsense words?”
“You shall see, Grandfather. Chaos is about to burst loose on the land. Red Power is swelling. Gods and heroes shall tremble before this is all over. And Horned Serpent shall have his due.”
“Horned Serpent?” he scoffed. And then he followed her gaze to the center of the river, seeing the water swirl. For the briefest instant he thought he heard Singing. The gentle melody played across his souls, too low for ears to hear. Then the water sucked and eddied. Paunch would have sworn he saw a great scaled body slip into the depths, the colors of the rainbow glinting from its sides.
“Bless me! Was that … ?”
“Our final hope,” she answered. “If we live that long.”
 
 
“W
ould it have been so bad to have lost?” Born-of-Sun asked as he tossed a stick for Swimmer.
Trader watched Swimmer tear madly after the whirling piece of wood. The dog’s coat was flying, his feet pounding the ground like a wild buffalo’s while little frantic barks escaped his throat.
They sat at the edge of Rainbow City’s steep eastern bluff, just south of the high chief’s great mound. The slope here was nearly vertical, dropping the length of a bow shot to the slow-moving Tenasee. There, in shadow, the waters swirled as though listening. Behind them, Rainbow City had settled into a gentle slumber, worn out from the days of solstice celebration. A chill lay on the land, and Trader fought a shiver as his eyes traced out the cloud patterns above the eastern horizon. The winter-bare trees stood somber across the far shore, and he could see open patches where cornfields had been carved out of the virgin forest.
“No, High Chief. It would not have been so bad. I would have served you to the best of my abilities. Old White, however, would have continued on. No matter what, he
must
return to Split Sky City. He’s a driven man. Whatever happened there, whatever secret he carries deep inside, it is a thing he must do.”
Born-of-Sun nodded. “Power rides his shoulders like a heavy cloak.” He shot Trader a sidelong glance. “You don’t need to go on, you know. Just because you won our bet, you could still stay here. You … and that fabulous piece of copper. You could buy anything you wanted. A clan? Half of Rainbow City? Anything.”
Trader smiled wistfully. “Once, High Chief, that was my Dream. Slowly, dimly, however, I have come to understand
that Power gave me the copper as a test. A wise man once told me that a person doesn’t own copper. He only holds it for a short time, and while men die, copper is forever.”
“So, you will do what with it?”
Swimmer was back, literally spitting the slobbery, tooth-marked stick at Born-of-Sun. Then he crouched down, ears pricked, giving the high chief a wolfish stare.
Born-of-Sun casually reached out, taking the stick. Swimmer trembled, every muscle vibrating in anticipation. Born-of-Sun’s arm flashed as if in a mighty throw. Swimmer charged off, barking his excitement as Born-of-Sun slyly placed the unthrown stick under his leg. The dog barked to a stop, head up, listening for the stick’s fall as he searched the air for the missing prize.
“Grows tiresome after a while, doesn’t it?” Trader asked.
“You’d think he had no other calling in life.”
“Well, he’s a dog. When it isn’t stick, there’s still food and sleep.”
“And the copper?” Born-of-Sun returned to the subject. “You’re a Trader. What would you want for it? All of my female cousins?”
“Trying to keep it here?” Trader raised an eyebrow.
“Of course. It’s more wealth than I have ever seen.”
“And that’s the Power of the test I was given.” Trader rubbed his cold hands together, watching a canoe pass below them. “I won’t Trade it, High Chief. Not for possessions, status, or privilege.”
“Then what?”
“The copper was given to me for a purpose. It will be given away when I know the time and place is right.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Born-of-Sun glanced over his shoulder to see Swimmer coursing back and forth, nose to the ground, searching for the lost stick. “You are a better man than I. Perhaps the stuff of legends.”
“No. I am only myself. A lesson that has come ten hard years later than it should have.”
Swimmer had finally caught on, trotting back to stare suspiciously at Born-of-Sun. The high chief laughed and flung the stick, Swimmer’s irritation forgotten in joyful pursuit.
“It is a rare achievement, to know oneself.” Born-of-Sun frowned quizzically at the distant clouds. “I can only hope that I, too, might find that realization someday.”
Trader shrugged. “I think, High Chief, that you are very aware of who you are.”
“I still question.”
“We all do.”
After a long pause, and several tosses of Swimmer’s stick, Born-of-Sun asked, “What of your winnings from the chunkey game? You own half of the Tsoyaha’s possessions. It will take all of my people’s canoes to haul it out of here.”
“We shall give it all back. All but the Trade we brought here.”
“There is Power in that. And humility.”
Trader met the chief’s eyes. “A few days past, I was preparing myself to die on the square. My only hope was that I would have the courage to face the pain and agony.” He shook his head. “I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Afraid that I would weep and plead. Anything to be released from the misery. The injustice of it made my souls cry out in disbelief. After that, life takes on a whole new meaning.”
“As the Kala Hi’ki can tell you.” Born-of-Sun took Swimmer’s stick, inspecting the gnawed wood while Swimmer panted from exertion and anticipation. “We are flawed creatures, Trader. Caught between the forces of Power. If suffering could be banished, we would invent it again. It is in our nature.”
“I suppose.”
“And there may be a great deal more suffering if you
continue on your journey to Split Sky City. I don’t trust these Chikosi. If you stayed here, however, you would be guaranteed the chance to discover this new man you have found yourself to be. You would have a home, here, with us—a chance to have family, children, and a respected place among us.”
Trader took a deep breath. “You tempt me, High Chief.”
“You have lived like a piece of driftwood. Forever carried on the currents of change. A man alone. Would it be so bad? To have a place for yourself?”
“No.” Trader smiled at the thought. “I think, however, that I must see this thing through. I can do that now. For the first time in my life, I think I know where I am going. What I have to do.”
“I still have time to persuade you to stay.”
“I think, High Chief, that I must see this thing through.” Trader paused. “Perhaps, however, when this is all over …”
“ … I will finally beat you at chunkey,” Born-of-Sun finished with a smile.
 
 
T
wo Petals watched the moonlight as it lay over Rainbow City. Above, the stars glistened in crystalline clarity against the pale vault of sky. Where they slipped past thatch roofs, thin wreaths of smoke rose in the cold air, giving it a pungent aroma. The houses cast pointed shadows on the hard-packed earth. The people slept, but she could sense them: thousands of beating hearts, rising and falling lungs, the blood coursing through their bodies. Were she to let slip her control, their Dreams would overwhelm her. They swirled around her, rustling and murmuring, so many hopes, desires, hatreds, and longings.
I am a rock.
She repeated the mantra to herself,
hardening her souls against the painful fantasies of so many souls.
One, in particular, drew her attention. This one, she could see, like a faint glow as it hovered over the old man. Two Petals carefully eased down the temple steps and followed, keeping her distance as Old White walked along the edge of the plaza. He stopped once, fingering the wood on one of the empty squares.
Two Petals watched, distantly aware of the curiosity and dread in the old man’s souls. It took no Contrary’s eyes to know that he imagined Trader hanging there, bleeding his life slowly away.
But that future is dead.
Another was lining out for them.
When Old White resumed his pace, she followed, stopping at the square herself, allowing her fingers to run over the smooth wood. Old blood, pain, and death Sang from the wood. The despair and misery sent a shiver through her souls. As if burned, she jerked her fingers away.
“Life is part of Power,”
a familiar voice told her.
She turned, seeing Deer Man, his antlers gleaming in the moonlight. He stood no more than five paces away, his hoofed feet resting on the hard plaza clay. Dark eyes seemed to swim in his human face, while his deerlike ears stuck out from the side of his head.
He continued,
“Living things concentrate it, hold it, and then let it flow out and into the rest of the world. Those who die in the squares impregnate the wood with fear and horror; just as woodcarvers, potters, or stoneworkers impart hope and pride into their creations.”
“Do we ever lose it all? Is Power like water in a pot? Can it all be poured out?”
“Not all of it. Even when a person dies, there is enough left for the scavengers, insects, worms, and fungus.”
Deer Man smiled.
“It’s all connected, you know. Power flows from the rocks, the soil, the rivers, and wind. What you impart to the weaving of a beautiful fabric is restored by marveling at a sunrise. Power is the breath of
Creation. What you draw into you must eventually be exhaled. Then, that same breath will be taken in by a tree, a chipmunk, a deer, and a butterfly.”
She walked slowly after Old White, aware that Deer Man pranced gracefully beside her, his hoofed feet silent on the clay as they crossed the chunkey court.
“He is worried,”
Deer Man told her as she watched Old White stare uneasily up at the high chief’s palace.
“He wonders if Trader and I are still willing to accompany him to Split Sky City.”
Deer Man paused beside her.
“You cannot tell him what is coming. You know that, don’t you?”
Two Petals nodded. “The only way that a man can move the world is if he doesn’t know he’s doing it.”
“Telling him the future would frighten him.”
A pause.
“He wouldn’t understand. It is in his nature to protect you
—
even if it meant ruin for him and the destruction of all he loves.”
“The scarred man frightens me. He has midnight in his eyes—a reflection of the rage in his souls. Just the thought of him sends shivers down my skin. What he will do to me …” She shook her head. “I tremble, even knowing that I shall find my husband in the end.”
“He frightens the Spirit World. No one should possess so much of the red Power. He is chaos, cunning, and hatred, with no balance. Left to his own, he will permanently upset the balance of Power. Only your husband has the Power to destroy him.”
“I understand.” She shivered, her souls shaken.
“Are you afraid of what you will have to do?”
“I am only afraid of the past. Living it is like wading in quicksand. With each step I worry about being sucked down into the suffocating darkness.”
“And Trader? You know you must give him up to fate. Is that a problem?”
“We have shared Dreams, he and I.” Her body tingled with anticipation of his naked body against hers. “All of life is sacrifice.”
“But only when the time is right,”
Deer Man warned.
“Any sooner and he will not accept your sister when she is ready. Trader is still fragile, searching for his future. You must be very careful with him. He cannot know the role he is to play.”

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