Moon Hunt
Page 46
Again he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, as if a being in rapture. “The sensations … I am born again into this life. Into this body. The adulation of the masses is once more a tonic.” He paused. “And yes, Lady, I was able to free the cavern dead.” Another pause, as if for effect. “As you saw.”
Fire Cat shot her an evaluative glance, trying to read her expression. She saw what he was doing, didn’t she?
“You doubt me, Red Wing.” Chunkey Boy had again turned his calculating eyes on Fire Cat. Lifting the spike, he said, “To play the part of the living god, Chunkey Boy would have to be a master when it came to tricks, to sleight of hand and the arts of deception. I might have sent some agent down into the cave, perhaps one of the priests, to steal your vaunted war club. You might wonder why Chunkey Boy would go to such lengths on your account.”
“I would indeed,” Fire Cat agreed.
“Perhaps, Red Wing, it is because your skepticism serves my purposes. Perhaps it handicaps my sister’s ambitions, or reminds others that skeptics end up as slaves. I might have orchestrated this entire assassination farce just to manipulate you.”
Fire Cat had a look of utter disbelief. “As if I were important enough for such an elaborate hoax?”
Chunkey Boy’s expression sharpened as he leaned forward, gaze fixed on Fire Cat’s. “Perhaps I am preparing you—by the most cunning of means—for the day I will need you to do me some terrible service. Molding you so that when the time comes you won’t hesitate to strike.”
Fire Cat flinched. Serve you? Not a chance.
As if reading his souls, Chunkey Boy sat back, expression softening. “You only have two choices: Either this entire event was a trick to manipulate you, or I am indeed the Morning Star. Somehow I managed to obtain your war ax from the depths of the cave. Or your Spirit handed me this spike so that I could kill Sacred Moth, and the reason you can’t remember handing me this spike is because you died down there. Sacred Moth killed you an instant after I grasped this from your trembling hand. Batted your dead body across the cavern.” He paused. “Ask your lady.”
Fire Cat shot Night Shadow Star a sidelong glance. Her slight smile, the lifted eyebrow and knowing, almost mocking, eyes, eloquently communicated what she knew she’d seen.
The Morning Star barely smiled at Fire Cat’s discomfort. “Your souls were in a sack, so you don’t know. Lady Night Shadow Star will tell you how Piasa, Horned Serpent, and Snapping Turtle were going to free me from Sacred Moth. How the battle would have shaken the earth. Brought chaos. She brought you close enough that your courage allowed you to hand me this.”
He lifted the copper spike. “That, or it was indeed a clever deception, perfectly orchestrated in order to manipulate you for some arcane purpose.”
“Stop it,” Night Shadow Star snapped. “Why do you feed and promote his heresy?”
Chunkey Boy studied her thoughtfully. “Having Danced in the merging of light and dark, I now understand his Power. And yours. I finally know who you are. What you might become.”
He fingered the spike lovingly. “We really do serve different masters, Lady. I had to embrace the darkness, free the souls … and see the future.”
“What future?” Fire Cat longingly fingered his bow.
Chunkey Boy fixed on him. “Something is happening in the east. Beyond the Blue Mountains in the Cofitachequi colony. Some shaman stirring Power, accumulating it for his own ends. I learned of it on my way back through the Underworld. Took a detour to discover more, but found the way blocked.”
Sun Wing—who had been watching quietly as she cuddled the Tortoise Bundle—suddenly cried, “And among the People? Come the brothers. Born of Sun, one is slayed.” She paused, eyes going vacant before she added, “Here, by the long trail, his corpse is laid.”
She blinked, lifting the Tortoise Bundle to her ear, whispering, “Yes, I hear.” Then she looked at Night Shadow Star. “It is up to you. Lightning saved him. You must entice it to take him back.”
Night Shadow Star spread her hands. “I don’t understand.”
“I had to be sure,” the Morning Star told her. “You and the Red Wing, together, have the Power to defeat him. He hasn’t given up, you know.”
“Who?” Fire Cat asked under his breath.
Night Shadow Star took a deep breath. Her eyes had taken on that vacant look that indicated that Piasa was whispering in her ear.
Chunkey Boy’s hint of a satisfied smile indicated that he, too, knew when Underwater Panther possessed his sister.
Night Shadow Star’s expression blanched. Unsteadily she said, “And he’s in Cofitachequi?”
Chunkey Boy nodded. “You are the last person he would expect to see so far from Cahokia.”
“Who?” Fire Cat repeated with more emphasis.
Night Shadow Star shook her head, weary and disbelieving. “I am not going to Cofitachequi.”
Chunkey Boy’s lips twitched. “Spotted Wrist can’t marry a woman who isn’t here.”
“Spotted Wrist?” she demanded irritably. “Surely after what Fire Cat and I just went through for your sake—”
“Oh, not me. Your clan matron. As an honor for the newly appointed Clan Keeper and Hero of the North. She—as leader of your birth clan—has ordered your marriage to the war leader.”
“You had her appointed!” Night Shadow Star clenched a fist, jaws tight. “You knew!”
Face bland, Chunkey Boy said, “Curious how it all worked out, isn’t it? Spotted Wrist will make a good match for you. Perhaps the only man in Cahokia worthy of your prominent position and authority.”
Fire Cat felt the room sway, closed his eyes against the impossibility of it. Spotted Wrist?
“Entice the lightning,” Sun Wing said absently as she stroked the Tortoise Bundle.
From Night Shadow Star’s expression, Piasa was again whispering in her ear.
“Lady, please.” Fire Cat knew something was being decided. By Piasa’s balls, anything but Spotted Wrist! Not in her bed!
When her eyes cleared, a faint smile bent her lips. “We’re going to Cofitachequi, Red Wing.”
“Cofitachequi?” It was halfway across the world. And about as far as he could get from Night Shadow Star’s despised new suitor.
She stepped forward, placing a hand on Fire Cat’s armored breast. For long moments she stared into his questioning eyes. “My master tells me there may be a way.”
“A way?”
“A way for us. For what we want more than anything. But know this, there will be a price.”
“There is always a price.”
“We are going to the far east to kill a man.”
“Killing a man doesn’t seem to be much of a price to pay.”
Her eyes had gone hollow. “Depends upon the man, doesn’t it?”
Reconciliation
The Great Plaza is busy as the morning sun beats down on my head. It is an unusually warm day for this late in the season. Behind me, the Morning Star’s great mound and palace waver in the heat waves. Wooden Doll tells me that it is because a storm is coming. That it is always warmest just before the temperature falls.
That might be the theme of my life.
I look around at the hawkers and Traders plying their wares. On the chunkey courts, youths are grading and smoothing the trampled clay, repairing the damage done by thousands of feet as the people waited to learn if I had killed the Morning Star.
I glance up at the high palace, remembering that I am still the living god’s wife. That I have heard no decree stating that he has divorced me. I think of the palace interior, of the benches, the wealth, the eternal fire, and of course I think of him.
The more I do, the more I’m sure he knew what I was about from the beginning. That he had been an almost willing partner in his poisoning. When I recall the look in his eyes as he took the mug of blueberry juice—how he held my gaze as he drank it—I am even more convinced.
I place my hand low on my abdomen, now fully aware that his child
grows within my hips. Odd that it took Wooden Doll to ask “How long have you been pregnant?” after she caught me throwing up that first morning.
It is the Morning Star’s child, of course. If my timing was right, on that first night of our marriage our coupling would have caught me in full heat. Perhaps that explains the passion with which I threw myself into his embrace. That deep inside, my loins hungered for his seed.
With that realization comes the belated knowledge that of all the men I have known, he was the kindest, the fairest, and most honest. For that I shall be eternally grateful.
I suck my lips in past my teeth and chew on them as I turn my eyes on the wooden square that stands across the Avenue of the Sun from the Grand Staircase. The charred remains of a man dangle inside the scorched timbers.
The head hangs, most of the hair and scalp burned away to expose the squiggly lines that mark where the bones meet. The hollow orbits in the skull where the eyes used to be are filled with char. The nose is gone, leaving only a triangular hole, and blackened teeth look garish where the lips were either sliced or burned away to expose the gaping jaw.
Just enough of the ligaments survived to hold the wrist and arm bones together and suspend the desiccated skeletal remains. The gut cavity is hollow, emptied of the intestines and organs that once resided there. Any trace of the genitals is a blackened ruin.
“What are you thinking?” Wooden Doll asks where she stands behind me by the waiting litter.
“Two Sticks told me that Straight Corn abandoned me. That he left with Hanging Moss and Wet Clay Woman.”
“He was a liar. But before you torture yourself, you heard the news from the canoe landing.”
I nod, feeling oddly hollow as I stare at what is left of Straight Corn. A sad and monotonous voice inside my head tells me that it wouldn’t have made any difference if he’d run when his family did. Cahokian warriors caught up with them at the mouth of the Tenasee. Word is that seeing their capture was inevitable, Wet Clay Woman produced a powdered mixture of water hemlock, death camus, and morning glory seeds. They were in the throes of convulsions even as Five Fists’ warriors drew up with their canoe.
“I loved him,” I whisper to Wooden Doll. “Before he was my husband, he was my best friend. He came here for me.”
“And asked you to poison the living god.” She pauses for emphasis. “That is using you. Simple exploitation.”
I nod. “Hanging Moss and Wet Clay Woman asked him to. That’s what people do, Wooden Doll. Exploit each other.”
Though I am still staring at Straight Corn’s remains, I know she is studying the crowd, always wary.
She says, “That’s the lesson I wanted you to learn.”
“Why? Why even bring me here?” I am surprised that I feel no grief, no racking sobs for Straight Corn or the horrible way that he died. Instead I just feel hollowed out inside, numb.
Have I become wooden? Emotionless?
She says, “So that you will realize that even those who say they love you—and perhaps actually do—are still willing to destroy you for the right cause.”
She indicates the passing masses of people, mostly dirt farmers come to stare up at the palace and perhaps glimpse the living god. “It’s not a concern for them. For the most part they just have to live their lives, play their devotional chunkey games, fill their bellies, and pop out a child every other year. Oh, they’ll have their little squabbles, the occasional fight and murder, perhaps an affair or nasty divorce. But barring catastrophe, they’ll live out their lives in the interwoven mesh of relationships, successes, and tragedies.”
“And I won’t?”
Wooden Doll shakes her head, pointing at my belly. “You tell me the Morning Star’s child is growing in your womb. Also, Two Sticks was right about one thing: You are the wife who betrayed and poisoned him. You were condemned to be different from the moment of your birth, Chikosi. You came here as a silly, headstrong girl, rapt in your own delusions of importance, love, and justice.” She chuckled. “How did that work out for you?”
“What point are you trying to make?”
“Seven Skull Shield, for whatever reason, thinks you deserve another chance. I’m trying to slap it into your head that you have a choice to make. You can end up just like your beloved Straight Corn if you make stupid mistakes. You might still end up as fancy Trade, servicing strange men who want to drive themselves into the woman who betrayed the Morning Star. It would be so easy to become someone else’s tool for the rest of your poor life.”
“Or?”
“Remove yourself from the game for a while. Serve me. I offer fair Trade for food, shelter, and comfort until you have that child you’re carrying. And while you’re doing that, learn to stand on your own. To think. To be a full woman. You have time, if you’ll use it.”
I stare at the back of my hand, sore, scabbed, and aching where she had obliterated Sacred Moth’s tattoo. “What’s in it for you?”
“A well-kept house, the water jars full, cooked food, swept floors, folded clothing, and someone to tell clients that I’m occupied.” She shrugged. “Do it well enough, I’ll build you your own house after the baby is born.”
“Why should I trust you?” I ask suddenly. “I could be worth a great deal were you to Trade me to Five Fists.”
“Ah, now that’s the kind of question you should have been asking all along. First, I’m the richest woman in Cahokia. Unlike even the tonka’tzi, what I own is mine. Not the House’s, clan’s, or the lineage’s, but mine. Second, I make my living by Trade. Whereas I Trade the services of my body to men, I will Trade you a bed, food, blankets, and fire. In return, you will see to the house. It’s a simple deal. I need the work done; you need a place to stay.”
I consider this. “People are looking for me. What will they say when I am seen at your house?”
“I’ve had a constant string of foreign young women guarding my door over the years. You’ll be taken for a slave I’ve purchased.”
“A slave!”
“Hah, there it is. That’s the arrogant stupidity flooding back. Would you prefer to be mistaken for a slave, or hanging there with your once-upon-a-time husband?”
I wince, glancing at Straight Corn’s hideous remains. They are now swinging slowly back and forth on the ropes as the breeze teases the burned bones.
“After the baby is born…,” I remind her. “Well, caring for a newborn is complicated, time-consuming.”
She smiles knowingly. “Back to Trade. Serve me well, and I’ll hire help. Such can be had for little more than an engraved shell Traded every quarter moon or so.”
I look into her eyes, seeing a woman who knows herself but expects little from the world. And what she gets is on her terms.
The sense of exhaustion, terror, and hopelessness begins to fade. I am a high minko’s daughter, of the Chief Clan of the Sky Hand People. I nod slowly, and figure that I have learned my first lesson from this remarkable woman as I say, “We have a deal.”
And I wonder what other lessons she is going to teach me.
She is smiling to herself as she turns back to the litter she has hired to bring us here.
I glance up at the living god’s palace one last time. High on the bastion, where I know the Morning Star likes to stand, I see a man. Sunlight glints on the copper headdress, and even across the distance, I can see the bright red cape draping his shoulders.
Is it my imagination, or does he nod in recognition as his eyes meet mine?
An eerie premonition runs down my back like a shiver as I climb into the litter beside Wooden Doll. I am still looking up at him as I feel myself lifted. The porters call, “Make way!” and bear us back toward River Mounds City.
Not once do I look back at Straight Corn’s remains.
Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I can feel the Morning Star’s gaze as we are borne east.
Surely he has no use for me now. Had he, he would have sent Five Fists down the stairs with a squad of warriors to hang me beside S
traight Corn.
No, I am free.
Which, after all, is the most self-deluding lie to tell oneself when the future is uncertain.
BY W. MICHAEL GEAR AND KATHLEEN O’NEAL GEAR FROM TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES
NORTH AMERICA’S FORGOTTEN PAST SERIES
People of the Wolf
People of the Fire
People of the Earth
People of the River
People of the Sea
People of the Lakes
People of the Lightning
People of the Silence
People of the Mist
People of the Masks
People of the Owl
People of the Raven
People of the Moon
People of the Nightland
People of the Weeping Eye
People of the Thunder
People of the Longhouse
The Dawn Country: A People of the Longhouse Novel
The Broken Land: A People of the Longhouse Novel
People of the Black Sun: A People of the Longhouse Novel
People of the Songtrail
THE MORNING STAR SERIES
People of the Morning Star
Morning Star: Sun Born
Morning Star: Moon Hunt
THE ANASAZI MYSTERY SERIES
The Visitant
The Summoning God
Bone Walker
BY KATHLEEN O’NEAL GEAR
Thin Moon and Cold Mist
Sand in the Wind
This Widowed Land
It Sleeps in Me
It Wakes in Me
It Dreams in Me
BY W. MICHAEL GEAR
Long Ride Home
Big Horn Legacy
The Athena Factor
The Morning River
Coyote Summer
BY WILLIAM GEAR
This Scorched Earth
OTHER TITLES BY W. MICHAEL GEAR AND KATHLEEN O’NEAL GEAR
The Betrayal
Dark Inheritance
Raising Abel
Children of the Dawnland