Moon Hunt

by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

  “It is my delight that you get to hear them from my own lips, Matron.”

  “And what did Wind say?”

  “I have no idea. Being relieved from any and all responsibilities, I figured it wasn’t my place to inform the tonka’tzi. That would seem to be one of the clan matron’s duties, don’t you think?”

  “Your sister is going to explode like wet clay in a too-hot fire. She’ll be fit to chew stone. Nor would I put it past the Morning Star to vent his displeasure. You may not be liked, but you are effective. Any idea who the matron will name as your replacement?”

  “None. Though she might choose her uncle, East Water. He’s a well-respected warrior with connections among the Houses. Most consider him a no-nonsense military commander.”

  Columella tilted her head back and laughed. “East Water as Keeper? That is precious. The man has the guile and cunning of a floor mat. He isn’t devious enough—not to mention he’s as gullible as a strutting turkey in spring. And what about your spies? Will they report to him?”

  “I doubt it.” She grinned in satisfaction. “They are my spies. They trust me. Just as your spies trust Flat Stone Pipe. Where is he, by the way?”

  “Keeping track of things, Keeper.” She frowned. “Did you know your thief has Crazy Frog’s people looking for the missing Quiz Quiz? And if he finds him, what then?”

  Blue Heron caught herself reaching up to pull on the loose skin under chin. She really needed to break herself of that habit. “I suppose I shall have the Quiz Quiz’s miserable carcass handed back to the Surveyors’ Society on my own. The time is coming when I may have need of favors.”

  “Bit late to start making friends, don’t you think? You have a long-enough list of enemies to worry about as it is. And worse, you are no longer protected by your position.”

  Blue Heron chuckled in dry amusement. “It is a long list, isn’t it? A fact I should be proud of given that—after all these years—I’m still here.”

  “And most of them, including a lot of my relatives, are not,” Columella snapped, then relented. “You know that you’ll be a target for retribution? All that protects you now is your family position. Not the assumed backing of the clan.”

  Blue Heron shrugged. “I may not have always made the right choices, and I admit to having made self-serving decisions, but I dedicated myself to keeping the peace. Hasn’t been open bloodshed or vendettas between the Houses or the Earth Clans under my watch.”

  “Oh, I suppose that in your position, I would have done the same.” Columella tapped her fingers. “And if you’d borne me any lasting ill will, you could have destroyed Evening Star House last spring.”

  Blue Heron pointed a gnarled finger. “The tonka’tzi and I wouldn’t want anyone else in control on this side of the river. Yes, you’ve been a thorn in my shoe on occasion over the years, and your plotting to overthrow Morning Star House and supplant us has come closer to success than we’ve ever wanted to admit, but you’ve got sense and a long-term vision for the good of the city.”

  “Watch it. You are starting to sound maudlin.” Columella struggled to hide a smile.

  “I don’t mean to.” Blue Heron shrugged. “The events of last spring brought it all into focus. You are a much better ally than enemy. I would see your lineage and mine brought closer together. For Wind and myself, we’d be amenable to brokering marriages for all of your children. Strengthen the ties that way.”

  “We’ll consider it.” Columella told her with reserve. “But in the meantime, just what exactly is your plan? Somehow I can’t see you letting the Clan Keeper’s position slip through your fingers.”

  “Of course not. Just about now, I would imagine that things are getting a bit interesting for Rising Flame. Just enough time has passed that the Surveyors’ Society has had time to communicate their outrage to the good matron. Not to mention that the high chiefs and matrons of the other Houses have all had a couple of days to stew on the outcome of the election. And then there are the delegations that have been put off while the Houses scrapped over the matron’s position. By now their patience is exhausted. When my brother was the tonka’tzi he always shoved the excess off on Wind. She’ll expect to do the same to Rising Flame. Who, of course, hasn’t a clue.”

  “How long do you expect to let them stew?”

  “Perhaps a week or so.” She glanced around. “In the meantime I thought I’d take a look around Evening Star Town. See the sights. It’s far enough away that I can’t be snagged by Five Fists or War Claw, but close enough I can get back in half a day if something appalling happens.”

  “You are more than welcome to stay here in the palace, Keeper. In fact, it might be the safest and smartest place for you, given your current vulnerability and lack of protection.”

  “My most sincere thanks for your kind offer. However, I have already made arrangements at the Four Winds Clan House. Your cousin, who runs it, was most earnest in her assurances that my stay would be enjoyable.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea? I’d call you a walking target for the moment.”

  “Not even Horned Serpent House could move on me this quickly. I’ll be fine for a week or so, and by then I might even be Keeper again.”

  Columella shook her head. “Who would have ever thought I’d say it, but I look forward to your company this week. Flat Stone Pipe should be back tomorrow. You and he have so much in common.”

  “My pleasure.” Blue Heron paused. “For now I will let you get back to your duties. You might, however, join me for breakfast at the Clan House tomorrow morning? Smoked paddlefish with fresh onion and beeweed seasoning is on the list.”

  “I’ll indeed join you. It’s been a while since I’ve checked on the Clan House. I wouldn’t want Running Water to get sloppy.”

  “See you then.”

  Blue Heron was still smiling as she was carried out on her litter, her porters taking their time as she was borne down Columella’s long staircase to the town plaza.

  On the chunkey court, Columella’s son Panther Call was practicing with his uncle, High Chief Burned Bone. As she was carried past, Blue Heron watched the young man bowl his stone and make a fair cast. He had potential.

  South of the World Tree pole, a stickball game was being played by the renowned Deer Clan team. From the counters they were five ahead of their Fish Clan rivals.

  When her litter was set down before the Four Winds Clan House, Blue Heron took her head porter’s hand and was helped to her feet. Atop its mound, the Clan House with its guardian posts overlooked the plaza. She waved her porter off as he offered his arm to help her climb the steps, adding, “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take a moment to watch the game.”

  “Yes, Keeper.”

  The appellation on the porter’s part was pure reflex, she knew. She was still the Keeper in her own mind. Had been for so long she wasn’t sure she could ever think of herself otherwise.

  Stepping over, she joined the thin crowd and called out in dismay as bodies smashed together in midcourt. The clattering of racquets, the screams of men, and the hollow thumping of impacting bodies carried on the air.

  Then a couple of Deer Clan players broke loose from the melee. A fleet-footed young man wearing a kirtle with a long flowing feather tail sprinted full-out for the goal. Just as he reached it, Fish Clan guards stopped his rush.

  Undaunted, the youth reached back, putting all of his body behind the racquet as he launched the ball over the blockers’ heads, and through the goal.

  “Point!” the judge called.

  A bellow of delight went up from the Deer Clan fans and players.

  Blue Heron barely registered the two big men who had sidled up on either side of her.

  She jerked when something pointed was jammed into her side.

  “Don’t make a sound, Keeper,” the man on her right said softly. “If you do, your guts will be all over the ground.”

  “And by the time anyone figures out what’s happened, we’ll be long gone,” the
second told her, bending close.

  “So we’re just going to walk away like old friends,” the first continued with deadly intent. “You be a good woman, and you won’t get hurt. In fact, that’s the last thing we want.”

  “Then … if not my death”—her heart was pounding—“what do you want?”

  “We’re looking for something. A prize possession that belongs to some friends of ours. Something that we think you have. That’s all. If we can get it back, we’ll call everything even all the way around.”

  “I don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re talking about!”

  “Shhh. Don’t make a fuss now. You ready? Let’s walk. And remember, if you try anything? Shout out? Try and run. We’ll either gut you, or knock your brains out, and be gone before you hit the ground.”

  “You’re making a big mistake.”

  “Now, now, Keeper. It’s just business. Trade, if you will. So let’s go peacefully, and you won’t be hurt.”

  She glanced up. Saw the look in the big man’s eyes. He was pressing a long chert knife into the hollow under her right-side ribs.

  The fellow’s companion had a hand on his war club, holding it as if it were attached to his belt. They were river Traders from the look of them, well-muscled and sun-darkened. Neither had tattoos that were recognizable.

  “Live or die. Right now. Make your decision.”

  Blue Heron—fear eating at her innards—nodded. “Let’s go. I won’t make a scene.”

  “Always heard you were a smart one.”

  She started walking, letting them direct the way south past the plaza and into the warren of temples, charnel and society houses, warehouses and farmsteads.

  Casting a look back, she noticed that her porters had missed it all, talking and laughing as they waited by her litter.

  Twenty-three

  “Leave us!” Tonka’tzi Wind bellowed.

  Like frightened mice and packrats, the messengers, recorders, lesser nobles, warriors, and priests scurried for the Council House door. The bravest ones cast quick and worried glances over their shoulders before they crammed themselves through the exit and out onto the Council House’s enclosed plaza.

  Oh yes, there would be talk aplenty tonight, wouldn’t there?

  Wind took a deep breath, as if the cool air could douse the hot rage in her chest. Her hands were trembling, and she sat bolt-upright in her litter atop the central dais in the Council House. Around her, the walls seemed to vibrate from outrage, or did she just imagine that?

  Rising Flame, one defiant leg forward, arms crossed under her too-perfect young breasts, had her head back. Unabashed, she traded Wind stare for stare.

  Wind exhaled slowly to buy time before she said something she couldn’t take back. Those kind of things happened when she lost her temper—and this wasn’t any ordinary, run-of-the-pack rage.

  “You told Blue Heron she was no longer Keeper?” To her amazement, her voice held, though it sounded like ice.

  “She did not show me the proper respect. I am the Four Winds clan matron. Not some lowly cousin to be abused.”

  “You are an idiot!” Wind couldn’t stop herself. She rose from the litter, stepped down, and strode over to glare up into the young woman’s eyes. “Either that, or your head is as thick and senseless as a block of maple. Do you not understand? She’s the spymaster! The one who has all the pieces. She knows each and every troublemaker in the city. Her people trust her. Not you. Not me. Her. There is a reason people call her the spider. She sits at the center of the web, can feel the tendrils when they get pulled from Serpent Woman Town, or when one of the Panther Clan chiefs up on the bluffs is about to start a war with a dirt farmer’s community.”

  “No one is irreplaceable, Cousin. It’s no different than if Blue Heron were to keel over of a suddenly stopped heart. Or fall down the Grand Staircase and break her neck. It’s just a matter of putting someone the Morning Star approves of in her place. Whoever that is can hand out bribes as easily as Blue Heron did.”

  Wind closed her eyes. “Are you really that simple?”

  “Simple? Do not patronize me. I know just as well as you that the Clan Keeper’s position needs to be filled by someone who commands respect. A person for whom reputation and honesty is requisite. We need a leader who can inspire through leadership.”

  “Let me guess,” Wind said dryly. “You’re thinking of your Uncle East Water. War leader. Hero of the battle of the Wabash. Terror of the Shawnee.”

  Rising Flame blinked. “Well … obviously. If you came to the same conclusion so quickly, and without prompting, he is indeed the right man for the position.”

  “He is the wrong man for the position. He doesn’t have the kind of coldly calculating character that it takes to be Keeper. And he’s too damned honorable. He accepts people at their word. Doesn’t know a lie from a promise. He’s too—”

  “Maybe honesty is what we need.” Rising Flame’s cheeks reddened with her own anger. “Blue Heron has a thief for a consort! She’s doing business with every scoundrel on the waterfront. She’s subverting young nobles, brokering deals with slaves.”

  “And who, Cousin, do you think knows the secrets? Or would you simply take Slender Fox at her word when you ask, ‘Are you plotting against Morning Star House?’”

  For a long moment they stared angrily into each other’s eyes, Rising Flame refusing to answer, finally relenting, “Of course I wouldn’t trust Slender Fox. Neither would Uncle.”

  Wind threw her arms up. “I can’t believe I’m having this discussion.”

  “Me either. It’s pointless. You are no long clan matron. I am. Picking the Clan Keeper is the Four Winds clan matron’s responsibility. I’ve removed Blue Heron. It’s done, and I will appoint someone else. I only came to tell you as a courtesy to the tonka’tzi.”

  “Get her back.”

  “Did you hear a single word I said?”

  Wind shook her head. “You may be the head of the Four Winds Clan, but I am the tonka’tzi. If you cross me, you and I will go to war, and it will be arbitrated by the Morning Star.”

  “He hasn’t always backed Blue Heron,” Rising Flame reminded.

  “Nor is he in the habit of backing stupid young matrons who precipitate a fight that will split the Four Winds Clan into factions and bring the city to instant chaos.”

  “And you—”

  Rising Flame whirled as Master High Line, followed by String Runner, pushed his way through the door, declaring, “Tonka’tzi, this situation is intolerable.”

  High Line was a silver-haired elder—a tall, almost emaciated, sun-browned man made of ropy muscle on a bony body. His thin and curved nose literally hooked over his small brown mouth. A fire to match her own burned behind his black eyes.

  “Master High Line,” Wind said stiffly. “This is not the right moment to take up whatever—”

  “Then I will take it up with the Morning Star. Where is the Keeper? My people have been to her palace and have been told that she’s left the city.”

  “What?”

  “Gone.” High Line pushed his way up beside Rising Flame. “She is supposed to be engaged in finding the Quiz Quiz. I was to have reports daily. And worse, I am told by that Red Wing woman that Blue Heron is no longer the Keeper. Is that true?”

  Wind said “No” at the same time Rising Flame said “Yes.”

  High Line blinked, then glanced back and forth uncertainly.

  Wind chuckled, raising her hands and backing away. “All right, Clan Matron. There you go.” To High Line she said, “Master Surveyor. Clan Matron Rising Flame will handle your problem from here on out. She has claimed responsibility.”

  “Good.” High Line turned. “Where is the Quiz Quiz?”

  “Who?” Rising Flame asked, her irritation visible in the knotting of her cheeks. “What Quiz Quiz?”

  “The one from the square!” High Line thundered in rage.

  “What square?” Rising Flame protested.

  “The one w
ho stole the Bundle!”

  “Someone has stolen one of your Bundles?” Rising Flame slowly backed away, the first hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

  At that juncture another messenger pushed into the room, a staff of office in his hands. He dropped to one knee before Wind and touched his forehead before declaring, “Tonka’tzi, it is my honor to inform you that War Leader Spotted Wrist is but a day’s travel away upriver. He requests that an appropriate reception be granted to him and his warriors. I am to inform you of his arrival along with three squadrons, and request that the Four Winds Men’s House be readied to receive him.”

  “Anything having to do with the Four Winds Men’s House would be the province of the matron,” Wind said coolly, pointing at Rising Flame. “I’m sure she will be happy to help you.”

  Next came a harried Albaamaha man with a scar on his face; he entered and prostrated himself before Wind. Looking up he said, “Great Tonka’tzi, I am so thankful for the opportunity to speak at last. I am to inform you of the arrival of a delegation from the Albaamaha Nation. We are aware of the Sky Hand Chikosi’s request to establish an embassy in Cahokia. Therefore I have the honor of announcing the arrival of High Chief Hanging Moss and his nephew Straight Corn, of the Reed Clan, of the Albaamaha Nation, come to request an audience with the Morning Star and to engage in conversations preparatory to the establishment of an Albaamaha embassy.”

  Wind retreated to her dais and struggled to keep her expression under control as High Line and Spotted Wrist’s messenger both besieged Rising Flame with questions and demands.

  To the kneeling Albaamaha, Wind asked, “Have you a reference?”

  The scar-faced man looked up, slightly mystified, and nodded. “I am of long-standing service to the Four Winds Clan. You need but ask the Keeper, great Tonka’tzi.”

  “Ah, Clan Matron,” Wind called. “Here is yet another one needing verification from the Keeper.”

  But Rising Flame could only glare back with eyes as piercing as bone stilettos.