He gave her a grin and winked. “Because no one else would dare to, Keeper.” He jerked a thumb toward the recess under the bench. “The Bundle’s the long cloth-wrapped thing you see there. It’s got a lot of sticks and arcs and cords and things that they use to lay out angles and measure distances. Just wood and fiber. No telling why they make such a fuss about it.”
“Because, you fool, according to the stories, the Tunica engineers who laid out Cahokia brought that Bundle from way down on the Great Western River. They, in turn, supposedly received the Bundle from the moon. Yes, the one in the sky. According to their story, Moon sent them the Bundle so they could lay out their towns and temples in line with the lunar maximums and minimums. The Tunica came to Cahokia upon learning of the Morning Star’s reincarnation. They taught our surveyors, and the Bundle became enshrined as their most sacred and precious possession.”
Seven Skull Shield craned his neck to stare at the cloth-wrapped object behind his feet. “From the moon, you say?”
“No. So they say. But who am I to question?” She shook her head to clear it. “Stop distracting me. Where did you get it?”
“From a Quiz Quiz war leader. He’s all bundled up out front. A little worse for wear. Some of Crazy Frog’s people carried him over here from River Mounds. Crazy Frog would like you to think kindly of him. No charge.”
Rotted gods. That meant she was even more in debt to Crazy Frog. If she had to owe a favor to a miscreant, why couldn’t it be to one she could hang in a square without threat of retribution?
“And does this Quiz Quiz have a name?”
“Sky Star. He’s supposedly some sort of war chief.”
“Pus and blood.” She knew who he was. First in line to step into the high chair at Quiz Quiz. The current high chief’s firstborn and favorite son. Recently known for kicking the stuffings out of the Pacaha and taking a chunk of their territory east of the river.
“You know that he stole the Bundle? For a fact?”
“Well, his servant girl said he did. And after she lured his warriors away, I caught him praying under a blanket in front of the Bundle. And when I took the Bundle, he chased me to get it back. Then we had … um, what you’d call an altercation before witnesses. So, yeah, I think he’s in it up past his bruised and broken nose. I figured him for the square. That’s why his arms and legs are mostly still attached.”
She closed her eyes, sighed, and rubbed her temples harder. Phlegm and spit, this was going to cause trouble. On one hand, the surveyors were going to be in a whirl-tailed rage because their Bundle was not only stolen, but defiled. They would demand the culprit be punished to the fullest extent. Hung in a square to be burned, cut, and slowly dismembered.
On the other hand, the Quiz Quiz weren’t going to take the slow torture and death of one of their favorite sons with any kind of sympathetic understanding.
“I’ll have him delivered to the Surveyors’ Society in the morning. They can treat him as they will. If we’re lucky, this is something he cooked up without the high chief knowing about it.”
She saw Seven Skull Shield’s eyes shift uncomfortably—a trait she’d have missed had she not known him so well. “And why don’t you think that’s the case?”
“Trust me, he didn’t do this on his own. He’ll probably admit it in the square. And there’s the rest of his jolly little band of Quiz Quiz warriors still running around out there. They hadn’t paddled away from the canoe landing as of when I left River Mounds. Surely they had to have seen Sky Star being carried away.”
“Then I guess it is what it is.” She turned. “Smooth Pebble. I know it’s the middle of the night, but let’s do this now. Find Squadron First War Claw. Have him take the Surveyors’ Bundle and that stealing war chief. Roust the guard for an escort in case those pesky Quiz Quiz are lurking around the Surveyors’ Society House. Once you deliver the Bundle and the thieving culprit into their hands, it’s their problem to deal with.”
“Yes, Keeper.” Smooth Pebble reached down and dragged the long, awkward Bundle out. Even as she did—giving Seven Skull Shield a dismissive shake of the head—she couldn’t hide the quirk of amusement.
After she left, Blue Heron shot Seven Skull Shield a critical glance. “You hiding something?”
“No. Did you have a good time selecting a new Four Winds clan matron?”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“Go to bed, Keeper. You’re asleep on your feet.”
“For once, thief, I can agree with you.”
“Well, just for propriety’s sake, I’ll keep it to myself, I promise.”
“And if that dog pisses on the floor…”
“Yes, yes, Farts and I know. He’ll be headed for the stew pot.”
Trouble with the Quiz Quiz? On top of the machinations of the matron selection? What else could go wrong?
Why does Seven Skull Shield look so satisfied with himself? He’s hiding something.
She shoved it out of her mind as she wearily plodded toward the wondrous sanctuary of her bed.
Eight
With all his might, Fire Cat swung the copper-bitted war ax. His muscles had warmed and loosened, and the stiffness in his left leg continued to fade as the days went by. Scars—still angry and red—traced patterns over his right elbow, made a crosshatched design along the ribs on his left side and hip, and left an angry red groove in his left thigh. Reminders left by the deadly, obsidian-edged war clubs the Mayans called macuahuitl.
He took a breath, leaping, feeling the pull in his healing leg. Yes, he was getting it back. Day by day his skill improved. Soon now, he would be as he was: sharp, deadly, balanced, and strong of wind. Leap, thrust, parry, cut. He practiced with the ax as though in an intricate dance.
He restricted his activity to the narrow mound-top yard in front of Night Shadow Star’s palace, but his daily practice drew a crowd. They gathered on the avenue that separated the base of her mound from the Morning Star’s. In silence they would watch, catching glimpses of him as he swung, lunged, darted, and ducked in the shadow of Piasa and Horned Serpent’s guardian posts.
He, a man who hated Cahokia—despised its rulers—had somehow become the city’s most renowned warrior. People placed flowers at the base of Night Shadow Star’s mound as a token of their respect for his prowess.
This was the very ground he’d fought upon. The place where he’d defeated the Itza warriors, one by one, until bleeding and staggering, he’d been able to claim their carved snake standard. Called the kukul, it had contained the deadly War Serpent’s Spirit.
As if it were yesterday, he could remember Night Shadow Star’s eerie voice whispering from the Spirit World; yet he’d heard her so clearly. Warning him. Coaching him, during those last desperate moments of his battle with Red Copal.
The Tortoise Bundle had allowed that—forged the link between Night Shadow Star’s souls in the Spirit World and the combat he’d waged here atop this mound.
And now, that same Bundle had taken hold of her, was slowly tearing her apart. Just as Piasa, her Underworld lord, was pulling her the other way.
Spirit Power was always a tricky business, those who belonged to it little more than gaming pieces to be cast in its service.
Panting, sweat beginning to trickle down his hide, Fire Cat sought to unleash his rage and anger. They’d smoked the Tortoise Bundle according to Rides-the-Lightning’s instructions. They had left it offerings of milled corn, sage, tobacco, and yaupon.
It had helped. Night Shadow Star had slept the night through. Though not peacefully. While she hadn’t moaned and cried out, she’d nevertheless tossed and turned.
And between dozing, he’d watched over her, as he’d done since she’d cut him down from the square that cold and rainy night last spring. As he’d sworn he would do until his last dying breath.
Finally exhausted, staggering and clumsy, he stopped, propped his hands on his knees, and sucked full breaths as his body trembled from the workout.
“Co
me,” a voice called. “I have tea.”
He blinked, wiped the beading sweat from his brow, and saw Night Shadow Star where she’d seated herself on the veranda step. In the morning sunlight, her midnight hair gleamed with a bluish tint. She’d parted it in the middle and left it to hang down her back in a wave. A red-and-white fabric cloak hung at her shoulders, and she wore a blue skirt.
Loose-limbed, he walked over and dropped beside her, still panting.
“You’re looking pretty good out there.” She handed him the straight-handled cup with its winter-solstice design: a cross, circle, and extension to the southeast.
“I’m still not completely recovered.”
“I’m not sure either of us will recover fully. Pus and rot, Fire Cat, what more can Power take from us? We’re like the ball in a stickball game: As soon as we think we’re flying one direction, we get flung another.” She paused. “And it always comes at some terrible cost.”
He sipped his tea. “Great things never come without pain, risk, and sacrifice. Take this morning. I would fight another half dozen Itza just to sit here in the sun and enjoy your company.”
A smile flickered and died as she fingered her own cup and stared into her tea. “Do you ever miss your wives and children?”
“All the time.”
“I’m sorry they were killed. If I could go back, I’d—”
“Lady, we live between the balance of red and white, rage and wisdom, war and peace. Red Wing Town was at war with Cahokia. We destroyed three of the Morning Star’s armies before Spotted Wrist achieved his impossible victory.”
He shrugged. “You know the stories of the Beginning Times as well as I do. It’s the way the world became the world. Order forever in conflict with chaos.”
She stared sightlessly across at the Morning Star’s mound. “But there’s so much needless pain. My husband … your wives and children.”
“Perhaps they are the lucky ones. Gone to the Land of the Dead to live among the ancestors.” He gave her a smile. “Pain is the price for rebirth. I think it’s all been directed, that Piasa picked us because of all the people in the world, we were the best suited for the coming struggles.”
She shot him a worried look. “I find nothing reassuring in those words.”
“Oh? You’re Chunkey Boy’s sister—one of the most prominent women in Cahokia. Look around you. This whole city is dedicated to the sky, oriented to the rising of the moon at its minimum. The surveyors are called with their posts, levels, and strings to ensure each building is oriented correctly. The Great Observatory, the position of the mounds and temples—all are laid out with precise standard units of measure to chart constellations, to reflect the path of the moon, sun, and stars through the sky.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “And now, here you are, Piasa’s creature, possessed by his essence, a symbol of Underworld, smack in the middle of a city dedicated to the moon and the sun.”
“Reconciliation of opposites?”
“Balance.”
“And why did Piasa insist that I cut you down from the square that night?”
“So that I could drag you out of the river after you defeated Walking Smoke. So that I could pull you back from the Underworld when you go soul traveling.” He grinned. “And someone had to kill that bunch of irritating Itza warriors and win you a fortune at chunkey.”
“Rot take it, but you almost make sense.” She ran her thumbs down the sides of her cup. “But what about the Tortoise Bundle? It’s a complication, an obstacle to Piasa.”
Fire Cat squinted up at the sun. “It was an ally of necessity. The Bundle was the key to defeating the Itza. But like you said, it’s a complication. Its keeper was dying, and now it is here.”
He paused. “Think of it like a high chief’s mistress being brought into his palace. She’s disrupting the order of things, upsetting the wives and children, making her own seductive demands, and everyone is now uncomfortable.”
She laughed at that. “You know that firsthand? Brought one of your mistresses into your palace up in Red Wing Town, did you?”
“No. It’s an unfortunate failing of mine that I have always dedicated myself to the women to whom I have been bound.” He sighed. “I’ll leave bed hopping to the thief.”
“I want my new ‘mistress’ out of my house.”
“Then we would have to find her a new keeper. Have any ideas?”
Night Shadow Star—looking disturbed—slowly shook her head. “No. And Fire Cat, from the standpoint of politics, there’s another problem. The Tortoise Bundle is a symbol to the Earth Clans. Years ago Black Tail tried to have Lichen hunted down and the Bundle destroyed. Somehow they both survived. Now it has come to me. Do we want it going back to one of the Earth Clans, where it can become a rallying point for rebellion?”
“The Red Wing in me says yes.” He chuckled at the stiffening of her body. “But for your sake and the city’s, I think not.” He paused. “Leave it with Rides-the-Lightning?”
“If he wanted it, he would have said something. He’s ancient and could die at any time. Then who would get it? One of his priests, but which one? And could we trust him?”
Fire Cat took another drink of tea, running the fingers of his other hand down the smooth handle of his war ax. “Nor can you just blithely hand it over to one of the Four Winds Houses. Just behind us—on the other side of the plaza—they’re locked in verbal combat to choose the new matron. It will change the dynamic of Power for whichever House gains possession of it.”
“I just want it out of my head. It’s bad enough with Piasa whispering in my ear all the time.”
“Which brings up the final concern: It has to be the right someone. A person the Bundle respects and accepts as its keeper.”
In a dry voice, she quipped, “In other words, you’re saying it won’t be as easy as standing on the Great Staircase and broadcasting to the crowds in the plaza that we need a new keeper?”
“Probably not,” he agreed, equally as dry.
A rapping of sandaled feet heralded a messenger charging up her stairs who warily touched his forehead in respect to the Piasa and Horned Serpent guardian posts.
Night Shadow Star and Fire Cat stood as the youth then prostrated himself before them, crying, “Lady Night Shadow Star! The Morning Star requests your immediate presence in his palace. He would discuss a matter of state. May I inform him that you are on your way?”
“Inform the Morning Star that I shall attend him as soon as I have dressed. You may go.”
Fire Cat watched the young man rise, his staff of office in hand as he retreated and scurried down the stairs.
“And there,” Fire Cat reminded, “is another wrinkle. If you’ll recall, the charming Chunkey Boy was desperate to get his hands on the Tortoise Bundle. Lichen avoided losing it to him by the narrowest of chances.”
“Chunkey Boy died when the Morning Star took over his body. You remain a heretic, don’t you?”
He ignored her barbed defense of Chunkey Boy’s fraud, adding, “If he so much as suspects we’re looking for a new keeper, he’ll ensure the Tortoise Bundle winds up in his hands.”
Nine
Seven Skull Shield tossed a ripe plum into his mouth, delighted by the taste as the juices spurted over his tongue. It was coming up on equinox after all, and forest fruits and berries were ripening. As they did, people in the outlying villages scrambled to pluck the first fruits and raced to get them to Cahokia before their competition. Trade was always more lucrative before the novelty of seasonal firsts wore off.
He and Farts had strolled out on their early-morning walk, crossed below the Morning Star’s mound on the Avenue of the Sun, and headed east. The air felt heavy, cool to the point of raising gooseflesh. He sniffed, catching the pungent scent of smoke from the morning fires.
He’d been tantalized by the baskets of plums displayed by two young men—barely more than boys—who’d laid them out on a blanket beside the plaza. Even though dawn had been no more than a gray ha
ze in the east, the youngsters were already prepared. Other Traders were just arriving and setting up.
The boys were blinking, looking around owlishly, obviously amazed at having managed to claim such a perfect location for their Trade, the spot being on the plaza’s northeast corner right next to the Avenue of the Sun.
Seven Skull Shield had offered them a whelk-shell columella that he’d lifted from the Keeper’s cache—one imported from the distant gulf coast—in Trade for a basket of plums.
The look in their eyes had been magical, as if all the wealth of the world had just been dropped in their laps. And well it might have been. As the offspring of poor dirt farmers out in the hinterlands, they might have only seen one or two such prizes in all of their years—and those would have been hanging as a pendant around some passing noble’s neck.
Sometimes it was the little things. For the rest of their lives those two boys would remember the morning on the Great Plaza when a stranger Traded a basket of plums for wealth worthy of the Morning Star himself. The only thing better would have been to see the look on their parents’ faces when they showed up at home with the piece.
“Life has its upsides, doesn’t it, Farts?” he asked the raw-boned dog pacing at his side. Farts looked up with his odd eyes and gave a couple of swinging swipes of his tail in reply.
As Seven Skull Shield proceeded down the Avenue of the Sun, he popped plums one by one into his mouth. By the time he and Farts finally circled back to the Keeper’s he knew that Dancing Sky would have breakfast ready. Probably boiled hominy seasoned with turkey meat and black walnuts. Just the thing to top off a belly full of plums.
A small crowd of early-morning pedestrians had gathered before the Surveyors’ Society House where it fronted the avenue.
“What do you think?” Seven Skull Shield asked Farts as he led the way. Elbowing through the spectators he noticed that a square had been raised, and within it, had been tied a human. The wretch’s wrists and ankles were bound to each corner, and though his head hung, the savaged shoulder dispelled any doubt of his identity.
Moon Hunt Page 8
