Moon Hunt

by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

  Green Chunkey laughed bitterly. “Ah, yes, words from the eloquent Five Fists. But for you and your fawning subservience to the Morning Star House, Robin Wing would now be Four Winds Clan matron instead of that foolish Rising Flame! I know whose side you’re on.”

  “I serve the Morning Star!” Five Fists had his offset jaw clenched.

  “Yes. Sure.” Green Chunkey sniffed disdainfully. To the warrior holding his messenger, he said, “The fates of Cahokia and a thousand lives lie in your grasp, warrior. Let my messenger go, or you can live with the responsibility of knowing it was all your fault.”

  “Hold!” Wind snapped. For the moment, the only authority she maintained came from the chair’s height. “Five Fists, it is on my order that no one leaves this room. Not for any purpose! If anyone tries, be it matron, high chief, or lowly servant, kill them.”

  “Tonka’tzi?” He shot her a stunned look.

  They all did.

  I am all that’s holding this together. If I slip, make a mistake …

  She took the chance of seating herself again, desperate to appear in control as her heart hammered crazily in her chest. The hatred between Green Chunkey and Slender Fox and Wolverine was crackling like sassafras root in a fire.

  Both sides could taste victory. Each believed that by taking initiative, they could seize control of the city—and the will of the people be cursed. In that single daring move Morning Star House would be deposed, and they’d name the next host for the Morning Star’s body.

  Not counting Evening Star House and River House. The stars alone knew what havoc they might be committing at this same moment. And if a River House squadron came marching in from the west? What then?

  The masses of people out there will decide.

  “You would have this old, broken-down warrior kill me?” Wolverine asked, flexing his eagle-scarred and muscular arms. “Brave words, Tonka’tzi.”

  Gelling all of her courage into a lump of resolve, she forced her expression to remain steadfast. They couldn’t know—not even by a quiver of the lip—how desperate, how fragile she felt.

  “High Chief Wolverine, I wasn’t joking when I told you that crowd out there is the biggest threat we face. I will take any measures I need to take to keep anyone from acting foolishly. You think it’s simple matter of besting Horned Serpent House? Green Chunkey’s not the threat. He’s as deluded as you are. Any sign of hostility, any conflict, and the people will tear this city apart!”

  Wolverine’s lips flattened into a cunning smile. “You will do this? You will save us all.”

  Looking as regal as she could after so many hours without sleep, her stomach empty, her wits at an end, she said, “If I am the only thing standing between peace and disaster, so be it. I will do my duty.”

  “Then I,” Wolverine said, leaping across the fire, “will free myself of that impediment.”

  His action was so fast it caught both her and Five Fists by complete surprise. She barely had time to shift before he’d pounded his way up onto the dais and grabbed her by the throat.

  She felt his grip—the same that he used to hold eagles—tightening on her throat. Lifting her bodily, he turned to face the shocked room. Wind heard a curious gurgling sound at the base of her tongue.

  “Five Fists,” Wolverine declared, thrusting his other arm out to stop the old war leader, “you will allow my sister to leave. Slender Fox, command our warriors to take control of this mound and to fortify the Council House wall and remove all these pus-sucking spectators. At the same time, tell Fast Throw to send a messenger to Wet Stick and tell him we need a second squadron here now. That we are threatened by squadrons from Horned Serpent House.”

  Slender Fox nodded, shooting an “I dare you” glance at the apoplectic Five Fists. “What about the Morning Star squadrons?”

  Wolverine told her, “They can’t be called up by anyone but the Morning Star or the matron, and she’s here.” He grinned wickedly. “And I do not foresee Matron Rising Flame departing the palace anytime soon.”

  “You … fool,” Wind wheezed through the tight grip on her throat.

  Wolverine’s hard brown eyes drilled into hers. “You’re courageous, that’s for sure, Great Sky.” He mocked her title.

  From the corner of her eye, Wind watched the warriors step aside to allow Slender Fox through the great double doors.

  We’ve lost it all.

  How long would it take? Slender Fox, slim and athletic as she was, would literally fly down the stairs—or at least weave her way as she could, given the number of bodies clogging the steps. At the foot of the stairs, she’d give the order, and the North Star squadron would start up en masse, knocking people aside as they did. Even as they started to fortify the Council House, expelling people in the process, the mighty throng would realize that something terrible had happened.

  Wind closed her eyes, trying to swallow past the grip that held her like a vise.

  Among the people it would start with a sort of questioning moan, and would flow out like a ring in a pond. The noise would grow to a rumble of disbelief. Then would come the shouts, swelling, spreading, verbal expression of the growing disbelief in their hearts.

  Someone would yell, “The Morning Star is dead!”

  After that, it would be unstoppable. The grief would be let loose, and it would drive them forward, heedless of the consequences. They would be coming for their god.

  “Nothing will stand in their way,” she whispered, sagging in his grip. “Go on, kill me. We’re dead anyway.”

  But he didn’t. Instead, Wolverine just released his grip, letting her sag into the chair.

  “It is done,” he said with subtle amusement.

  Wind coughed and rubbed her throat, her defeat so complete that she felt empty, drained, and without form or substance. Nothing lasted forever—not even mighty Cahokia. As it had risen from the mud along the Father Water, so too would it now fall.

  She could imagine how it would look in generations to come: the buildings gone, grass covering the abandoned and slumping mounds, occasional trees, but little else to show the grandeur that had drawn tens of thousands to this place.

  I was here to see it end.

  Slender Fox would be at the bottom of the stairs now.

  “We’ve lost it all,” she whispered. “How will the future judge? What will the people say years from now as they walk these abandoned places and ask, “Who were they?”

  “Oh, stop whimpering, woman,” Wolverine told her. “Get over it. I’ve won.”

  “Won what?” a voice asked from behind, and Wind could barely find the energy to crane her neck.

  Rising Flame emerged from the Morning Star’s doorway and stopped short at the sight of Wolverine towering above Wind on the high and forbidden dais.

  Wolverine smugly began with, “North Star House is taking control of the palace, Matron. My warriors will be swarming up the stairs at any—”

  Rising Flame stepped forward as the Morning Star—looking frail—emerged to take her arm. His face was painted in white, the black, forked-eye designs vivid. The maskette shell ear pieces contrasted with his black hair. A copper headpiece with its Spirit Bundle was atop his tightly wound bun, and a brilliant cloak made from tanager feathers hung from his shoulders.

  Together he and Rising Flame walked forward, hisses of disbelief erupting from the people before they dropped to one knee, bowing their heads, touching their foreheads. Wolverine had thrown himself from the dais and flat on the floor, face buried in the matting.

  Wind staggered down off the dais, bowing before the living god and stating through her raspy voice, “Lord, they need to see you at the palace gate. No time to waste.”

  “Of course, Tonka’tzi. Feel the Power they radiate.” He closed his eyes, sniffing as if savoring. “It took a while to decide. It’s the only reason I came back, you know. To feel that Power, that adoration.”

  She remained where she was as he passed, heedless of her knees—still sore from the hand
s of time she’d spent on them in Old-Woman-Who-Never-Dies’ temple.

  When the tears came, they blinded her eyes, silvering her vision as she watched his silhouette pass through the doors and into daylight and heard a rising cheer from the courtyard.

  Close. So close.

  Sixty

  Blue Heron hobbled along the line of Quiz Quiz prisoners where they sat, cross-legged, on the hard-packed clay of Evening Star Town’s plaza. The entire string was tied together along a long length of rope—each bound by a loop knotted around his neck. Any one of them who lifted his hands to pick at the braided rawhide collar received a quick whack from one of the patrolling warriors.

  Bouyed by the news that the Morning Star lived, a considerable throng of locals—including various Earth Clan subchiefs and lesser Four Winds nobles—had clustered around to watch the spectacle.

  Seven Skull Shield, Columella, and Flat Stone Pipe followed along just behind her. They had carried her down from the palace on a litter, but for this task, for this short distance, she could walk. The last time—when she’d threatened to leave on her own—she’d made it halfway across the floor before the world spun around in ever-faster circles. Columella had barely kept her from nose-diving into the floor. At least now she could keep her balance.

  Her ribs hurt like sixty lashes; her swollen eye had turned a horrible black that faded into yellow and green; and the bruises on her arms, chest, and hips were something to see.

  “That one.” She pointed, staring into the Quiz Quiz warrior’s disdainful eyes. They reminded her of smoldering stones. “He’s the one.”

  Seven Skull Shield stepped up beside her, calling, “Winder? Who is this man?”

  “That is Moccasin, Skull. But you probably don’t want to tangle with him. With one hand he’ll rip your arm out of its socket and beat you to death with it at the same time he uses a splinter to pick his teeth with the other.”

  “Feisty, aren’t you, Trader?” Blue Heron called. “I’d save it for the square. You’re going to need all of your reserves.”

  She saw the agony in Seven Skull Shield’s expression, the pinched lips, the knotted jaws. “Sorry,” she whispered for his ears only.

  Then she ordered, “Take this one. Cut him out of the line.”

  Two Evening Star warriors bent to the task—the other Quiz Quiz calling questions, uneasy at their companion’s treatment.

  “So he’s the one who beat you?” Columella asked as she watched the man being dragged away.

  “I’m not a particularly nice person. A fact you figured out for yourself years ago.” Blue Heron placed a hand to her broken ribs as she turned. “Nor am I forgiving. That bit of worm vomit would have kicked me to death if Winder hadn’t come when he did. Maybe there’s a time and place for such things, but old Moccasin there, he was enjoying himself too much. He outright liked it.”

  A commotion broke out among the crowd on the southern end of the plaza, people shifting and moving.

  “Now what’s this?” Flat Stone Pipe asked.

  A party of warriors carrying a Morning Star House standard appeared between the buildings on the path that led up from the canoe landing. Behind them came a litter borne by trotting porters. They skirted the stickball grounds, saluted the giant cypress World Tree pole where it dominated the center of the plaza, and respectfully circled the chunkey courts.

  “Well, well,” Blue Heron mused as the approaching warriors broke ranks and saluted. Rising Flame’s litter was carefully lowered, and the porters stepped back as she rose and strode forward.

  “Matron Columella,” Rising Flame greeted. She wore a multicolored cloak made of painted bunting feathers mixed with lines of red cardinal breasts overlaid by chevron-shaped patterns of copper-gleaming spring turkey feathers. Her hair was adorned with a swan-feather splay, and she wore a tanned buckskin dress dyed in deep blue and decorated by geometric patterns of oyster-shell beads and copper buttons.

  “Clan Matron,” Columella replied, touching her chin, eyes reserved.

  Rising Flame turned her attention to the line of prisoners; an eyebrow lifted as she studied them thoughtfully. To Blue Heron, she asked, “Are you all right? Word has just reached us of your trials.”

  “I’ll live,” Blue Heron growled, aware, through a sidelong glance, that Seven Skull Shield was appraising the young matron’s well-figured body with lecherous eyes, a slow grin bending his lips. Reaching behind her back, Blue Heron gave him the “desist” gesture before Rising Flame caught on and added him to the line of Quiz Quiz destined for the squares.

  “We need to talk,” Rising Flame said perfunctorily. “Might we use your palace, Columella? Or if that is inconvenient, I can order the Four Winds Clan House emptied for our privacy.”

  “Well, if you’re about official business,” Blue Heron said, “I suppose the thief and I will be off. Leave you all to the—”

  “I want you there. Just the three of us. Things I need to say,” Rising Flame told her, a frustrated resignation behind her glistening dark eyes. To which she reluctantly added, “Please.”

  “In that case, you are more than welcome to use my palace,” Columella told her. “Fetch Lady Blue Heron’s litter.”

  Somewhere in the time it took to relocate into the palace, Blue Heron realized that Flat Stone Pipe had managed to slip away. Seven Skull Shield had plopped himself down outside the palace door beside his bear-headed dog and was chewing on a ragged thumbnail.

  As Blue Heron was carried inside and lowered by the fire she cast an eye on Columella’s raised dais and speculated whether the dwarf had already slipped into the hidden cubbyhole.

  Columella climbed onto her raised chair after ordering black drink for her guests, and it came to Blue Heron that her presence there covered any sound the dwarf might accidently make. Clever, Columella. Clever indeed.

  Only after the yaupon tea had been served and drunk and the prayers had been offered did Columella clap her hands, ordering, “Leave us.”

  The palace staff bowed, touching their foreheads, and crowded out.

  “Now, Clan Matron, how can I be of service?” Columella asked as she laced her fingers together and leaned forward.

  Blue Heron watched Rising Flame squirm as she shifted to a more comfortable seat and said, “I have come to report that the Morning Star is recovering, though he remains weak. For the moment, he and the tonka’tzi have reassured the people. Green Chunkey and Wolverine have removed their squadrons.”

  She glanced uncertainly at Columella. “I would assume that you are not about to take action against Morning Star House?”

  “You assume correctly,” Columella told her with a wry smile.

  Rising Flame leaned forward, hands extended, as if grasping. “What neither Tonka’tzi Wind nor I know is what River House’s intentions might be.”

  “They are paralyzed for the moment.” Columella cocked her head. “Why would you come to me to learn about War Duck and Round Pot’s plans?”

  Rising Flame glanced uncomfortably at Blue Heron. “Because you have, shall we say, resources that others do not.”

  “She means your spy network,” Blue Heron interjected dryly.

  “Pus and blood, yes,” Rising Flame admitted in frustration. “So … why is River House paralyzed?”

  “Because, due to an intruder, their eternal fire was put out the night before they were planning to march on Morning Star House.” Blue Heron couldn’t help but chortle.

  “Their fire…?” Rising Flame paused. “When did this happen? What else do Wind and I need to know?”

  “Blood and piss, woman,” Blue Heron couldn’t help but growl at her. “All right, here’s the thinly stewed version: War Duck encouraged the Quiz Quiz to steal the Surveyors’ Bundle to discredit Morning Star House prior to the matron’s election. But my people foiled the attempt, which caused the Quiz Quiz to lose their War Medicine box. After Sky Star was rescued by Winder, they kidnapped me to ransom for the box. My people got me back and went after the Quiz
Quiz. Consider it a matter of honor. But before they could trap the Quiz Quiz, they had to sneak into War Duck’s palace and dangle the bait. As sometimes happens, that plan went to shit and ended up with the sacred fire being put out. Meanwhile, our people sent a messenger to War Duck asking for an escort for my return to Morning Star House. Knowing War Duck would have to have the Quiz Quiz retaliate, our people followed him to Crazy Frog’s, where Flat Stone Pipe overheard the plans.”

  “Who?”

  “The dwarf. Don’t you know anything?” Blue Heron scowled.

  “How did the dwarf learn all of this?” Rising Flame looked confused.

  “Seven Skull Shield tossed him up on Crazy Frog’s roof—although the soot he knocked loose while he was squirming around up there almost gave them away.” Blue Heron shrugged. “But once Flat Stone Pipe knew the plans, he set the trap for the Quiz Quiz. Now we get to finish this once and for all. It’s just a matter of deciding whether to ransom any of them, or put them all in squares.”

  “Squares,” Columella said with a grunt. “Can’t have these sassy barbarians thinking they can come and steal our sacred Bundles on a whim.”

  “That or cut the big tendon in their heels and make them slaves,” Blue Heron replied. “Maybe give them to the stone cutters or the chert miners. That’s a pretty sobering message to send. Most warriors would rather die.”

  “Either way, we’ve got to send an army downriver and burn Quiz Quiz.” Columella had narrowed her eyes. “Stealing the Bundle was one thing, but abducting you from my own stickball field? That’s a slap in the face to anyone in the Four Winds Clan. Let alone that it was someone of your status in Black Tail’s lineage. The clan’s one-time Keeper, of all people.”

  “True,” Blue Heron agreed. “But what will the lower river Nations do? Sure, we’d be within our rights to attack Quiz Quiz. And played right, we could conquer it. But could we hold it for the long term? We’ve always avoided moving against any of the lower river Nations. They would see it as colonial expansionism. It could set off a firestorm, shut down Trade, cut us off from the Caddo.”