The Wind in His Heart

by Charles de Lint

  “After that, he took those young men and women who were willing, and made them into dog soldiers—what we call the dog boys today. They took the battle to the ma’inawo. Every time the ma’inawo interfered with our lives, the dog boys went hunting. They weren’t always successful, but the casualties were far higher on the side of the ma’inawo than they were on ours.

  “Finally, the ma’inawo sent emissaries to the Women’s Council and a truce was made—here, at this very medicine wheel. That truce turned to respect, and that respect became genuine friendship until we are as you see us today: two peoples living in harmony with each other and the land.”

  “Who was this first chief of the dog boys?” Consuela asks.

  “His name was Jimancholla.”

  Consuela lets out a scornful laugh. “Oh please. Do you really expect me to believe that? Jimmy Cholla is only a character from a story.”

  “Says one who knows nothing about my people.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Are you saying Jimmy Cholla is real? That all those crazy stories are true?” It’s like finding out that Paul Bunyan actually lived.

  “Jimmy Cholla is a story character,” Auntie says, “but he got his name from Jimancholla, and he was definitely real. Many of the families here in the Painted Lands can trace their ancestry back to him. The Corn Eyes Clan gets their Sight from his blood.”

  “You’re serious,” Consuela says, rolling her eyes.

  Auntie doesn’t bother to speak. Her answer is plain in the disdainful look she gives back to the raven woman.

  “So, if you all live in such harmony now,” Consuela asks, “why do you still need your dog boys? It’s not like they do much good protecting you from the five-fingered beings that aren’t part of your tribe—or even from your own members who decide to build casinos and go hunting for the very cousins you’re supposed to be living in peace with.”

  “These days,” Auntie tells her, “they play games of chase with certain ma’inawo who find entertainment in such things. But they will not hesitate to deal with ma’inawo who stray into the Painted Lands and disrespect the truce.”

  I’m dying to learn more about this ancestor who gave rise to the Jimmy Cholla stories, but the tension is still heating up between the two women.

  “Okay,” I interrupt, hoping to head off another confrontation. “We’ve established that Consuela didn’t put Thomas in danger on purpose, but if she hadn’t involved him, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. That sound about right?”

  I look from one to the other. Consuela gives a reluctant nod. Auntie takes a deep breath, then follows suit, a pinched look still on her brow.

  “So Auntie wants you to either fix this,” I tell Consuela, “or she plans to take more drastic action. Seems to me, the best way to deal with the threat to Thomas is for you to find a way to call off the salvagers. Maybe you could get that big dog of yours to help.”

  “Gordo’s not a dog, and he’s not mine.”

  “But you could ask him?”

  “Gordo is more loyal to Si’tala than to me, and I don’t need to remind you what you’ve just done with her.” Consuela looks so pissed that I think she’s going to have a go at me. It’s enough to make Auntie raise her six-gun and thumb back the hammer.

  “Please, Auntie,” I say.

  When she lowers the gun again, I return my attention to Consuela. “Remember what you told us? You said you were speaking to us out of respect for the local ma’inawo. Why don’t you at least try to follow through with that?”

  Consuela looks out at the gathered ma’inawo on the periphery of the circle. As she looks from one to the next, her body seems to relax a little. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll try to find a way to call the salvagers off. And if I don’t succeed?”

  “At least you’ll have tried,” I say.

  “But don’t come back,” Auntie adds.

  As Consuela rises smoothly to her feet, I realize that Si’tala is standing beside her. I blink in surprise. I never even saw her walk over here. But maybe she didn’t. For all I know, she’s been there all along and was invisible until now. Or she instantly teleported herself from where she’d been standing with Morago and Leah. There’s so much I don’t know about the ma’inawo.

  Consuela gives her sister a cold look. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Consuela shakes her head. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  “What is it that you think I will do?”

  “Pretend to be me? Kill me in my sleep so that you can take over my life?”

  “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because you’re not real. You’re my memories, that’s all. But you’d like to be more.”

  “I already am more, thanks to Steve.”

  Consuela takes the time to shoot a glare my way. “Which I won’t forget.”

  “The world has colour, sister,” Si’tala says. “It’s never been simply black and white.”

  Her gaze moves to Auntie. “You’d do well to remember that as well, elder.”

  I think it’s a good point, but Auntie doesn’t bother to respond.

  “Why should I trust you?” Consuela asks her sister.

  Si’tala smiles. “Because I know all the terrors you have spilled into the world, but I also know the great good you have done. Raven would not have loved you otherwise. You were the first he brought into this world. I know because I remember, where you can’t.”

  “You remember…” Consuela says softly.

  I hear both longing and horror in her voice.

  Si’tala nods. “And unlike before, when I was only a ghost bird, now I can share your lost memories with you when you ask.”

  “And what do you get out of it?”

  “You are my sister. I’d like to see if we can find a new beginning.”

  Consuela doesn’t say anything for a long moment before she finally nods. “Then come with me,” she says.

  Si’tala smiles. “Thank you. I haven’t forgotten my promise. Call me when you’re ready, and I will come.”

  “Sure,” I tell her. I feel a deep pang of disappointment that she’s made this choice, but what do I know? Maybe they need one another. There’s all kinds of weird co-dependency in this world.

  “And Señora Corn Eyes,” Si’tala says. “I will talk with Gordo. We will do all we can to dissuade the salvagers from taking Thomas. And if we can’t call them off, then we will protect him, in this world and the next.”

  “We will not,” Consuela says.

  Si’tala bows her head. “My pardon, Señora,” she tells Auntie. “I should not speak for my sister. I meant to say that I, and hopefully Gordo, will protect him.”

  Then she turns away, and between one moment and the next, the two women are ravens flying off, side by side.

  As if that’s a signal, the ma’inawo disperse as quickly as they came. I stand up and search their ranks as they leave, looking for Calico’s red hair, but if she’s with them, I don’t see her. There’s only Auntie and me here by the cold coals of the fire pit. On the far side of the medicine wheel Morago stands with Leah, Thomas and Santana. Everyone else is gone.

  When Auntie doesn’t get up, I reach a hand down to her. She doesn’t accept it, so I sit down beside her.

  “Do you think they’ll find a way to help Thomas?” I ask her.

  “I doubt it,” she says. “They’ll do what the old spirits always do: cause mischief and bring trouble to anyone standing near them. It’s not in their nature to do otherwise. You should have let me shoot her.”

  I follow an impulse and put my arm around her shoulders. “You know that’s not the answer,” I say. I think for a moment, looking in the direction that the ravens flew off, before I add, “I trust Si’tala to do the right thing.”

  “Then you are a fool.”

  “I’ve been called that and worse.”

  Auntie shrugs. “So…Calico,” she says, changing the subject. She touches my chee
k. “The crows told me about this rift between you.”

  “Yeah, not my best moment.”

  “Do you care about that ma’inawo girlfriend of yours?” she asks.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then perhaps you should go find her. Tell her how you feel.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  She leans in to me. “How hard can it be to open your heart to the one you love?”

  “It’s the finding her in the first place that’s hard.”

  Auntie nods. “That’s true. They’re hard to track when they don’t want to be found.”

  I find it a little disconcerting to be sitting here sharing affection and discussing my love life with this tribal elder. I don’t really know any of the Corn Eyes Clan all that well, except for Thomas, but that’s only from seeing him at the trading post when I drop by to pick something up or to shoot the breeze with Reuben. I’ve often seen Auntie when I pass by the Corn Eyes’ house. She’s usually sitting on the porch, crows lined up on the railing in front of her or perched on nearby trees and cacti. Sometimes she lifts a hand in greeting; sometimes she just ignores me.

  We’ve hardly been confidantes.

  “You should ask Morago to find her for you,” she goes on. “And if it helps at all, I don’t think she actually disagrees with you. What’s upset her was that she didn’t get to be heard.”

  “I was listening to what she said. But she wasn’t there when Si’tala was telling me about the problems that are coming a few years down the road.”

  Auntie shakes her head. “No, from what I’ve been told, you went ahead and made a decision without allowing her any input.”

  “But the decision couldn’t have gone any other way. Sure, the outcome benefits the Kikimi, but it benefits the ma’inawo, too.”

  “And now you’re not listening to me. You’re not a quick learner, are you?”

  I stop and look at her, realizing she’s right. The point isn’t who’s right or wrong. It’s that I didn’t respect her enough to talk it over first.

  “I need to find her,” I say.

  I stand up again. This time when I offer my hand, Auntie takes it.

  “But be careful,” she says as we walk over to where the others are waiting. “I won’t say that no good comes from being friendly with the ma’inawo, but remember, at the end of the day, they aren’t human beings. They might look like us and feel things the way we do, but they are still other. Living as long as they do, in and out of the otherworld, makes one see the world differently.”

  “I’ll be careful, Auntie.”

  But we both know I’m going after Calico, no matter what it takes.

  74

  Leah

  “How do you think it’s going?” Leah asked, looking across the sand to where Steve sat with Consuela and Auntie.

  “Well, nobody’s dead yet,” Morago said, “so I’d say it’s going pretty well.”

  Leah turned to look at him. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

  The shaman gave her a wry smile. “A bit of both. Look,” he added, “you know how the rez is divided between the traditionalists and the casino crowd, right?”

  Leah nodded.

  “Well, there are other divisions. Maybe they’re not as obvious, or argued as strongly, but let’s just say there’s a reason the Women’s Council is made up of younger women at the moment. They’re all in their forties and fifties now.”

  “I like that you think that’s young,” Leah told him. “Gives me hope.”

  Morago chuckled before continuing. “The young people on the rez, they either don’t believe in the ma’inawo, or if they are aware of them, they’re more accepting.

  “The older folks are polite and friendly, but they hold on to the old prejudices that date back to when there was war between our tribes. Like Auntie Leila, most of the elders don’t fully trust the ma’inawo.”

  “Our mom’s always warning us about the ma’inawo,” Santana says.

  “That’s because she listens too much to Auntie.” Morago paused, then added, “But the elders are not completely wrong, either. The ma’inawo who share the Painted Lands with us aren’t the same as their wilder cousins who live beyond the mountains—the ones who never made a truce with us. For some of them, it can still be amusing to walk one of us off a cliff, or have us follow them into the otherworld and leave us there for a few decades.”

  “So how do you tell the difference?” Thomas asked.

  “Good question,” Morago said.

  Leah waited for him to go on, but he didn’t elaborate.

  “What about those two?” Santana asked nodding to the center of the medicine wheel. “Are they good or evil?”

  Leah wasn’t sure who she meant until she realized that Si’tala was standing behind Consuela. She’d never even seen the woman get up from where she’d been waiting beside them. Somehow, she had covered the distance without Leah noticing.

  “I don’t know,” Morago admitted. “The older a ma’inawo is, the more powerful they get. Some become friendlier toward us; others grow ever more embittered. Consuela has been accused of long-forgotten kindnesses as well as terrible deeds. Si’tala is a newborn spirit with the memories of another’s long life inside her. And even when they try to do good…” He sighed. “You know how it goes with Cody in the old stories.”

  Leah gave him a puzzled look, but Thomas and Santana nodded.

  “I love Coyote stories,” Santana said.

  “Cody is the Coyote trickster’s name?” Leah asked.

  “Among others,” Morago said. “He likes to cause mischief, but he also likes to help. The problem is that even with the best of intentions, he usually makes things worse for those around him. I’ve heard the same about Consuela. The added danger she presents is that she has a history of deliberate malevolence. It’s the reason Raven turned his back on her.”

  “So that’s a true story?” Thomas asked.

  “They’re all true stories, to some extent.”

  “And Raven is?” Leah asked.

  “He made the world,” Santana explained in the tone a person might take with someone who was a little dim. “He’s the one who stirred his cauldron in the first darkness and ladled the world out of it, bit by bit.”

  Leah’s gaze rested on the girl for a long moment. “You mean that literally, don’t you?” she asked.

  Morago smiled. “It’s as valid an explanation as the one about some old white man with a big beard who lives in the sky and made the world in seven days, don’t you think?”

  Leah sighed. Religion. She’d gone and put her foot in it, hadn’t she. “I don’t believe in that, either,” she said.

  “Then what do you believe in?” the shaman asked her.

  “I…”

  She realized that she didn’t know anymore. It wasn’t just the sudden shift in interest from writing about pop culture to tackling issues with more meaning. And it wasn’t even that she might actually be able to put Aimee’s spirit to rest. Everything she thought she knew about how the world worked had changed. It felt as thought the ground was constantly shifting underfoot, leaving her more than a little unbalanced.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she said.

  “Trust what your instincts tell you,” Morago said. “Listen to the voice of your heart when it speaks in your mind.”

  “Yeah, except that’s what schizophrenics do too.”

  Morago gave her a look that was sad and scolding at the same time.

  “Okay,” she said. “I know that’s not what you’re talking about, but look at it from my perspective. I didn’t grow up believing in all of this.” She made a vague gesture toward the two raven women.

  “Neither did I.”

  Leah couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “What?” he said. “Do you think I went on the road with the Diesel Rats because I was so comfortable with the traditions of my people? Few of us grow up fully believing.”

  “And if we do
see things that nobody else does,” Santana said, “we keep it to ourselves.”

  Thomas nodded. “But Leah’s partly right. We might not have grown up believing, but we grew up with the stories. When we started seeing things, we had a context for them.”

  “I didn’t get anything like that,” Leah said. “I mean, I got stories as a kid, but they were European fairy tales and picture books, and Saturday morning cartoons—nothing you could think of as real, no matter how much you wanted them to be when you’re that age.” She paused, then looked from Thomas and Santana to Morago. “They’re not real, right?”

  The shaman shrugged, an enigmatic smile on his lips. “I don’t know anything about the European mysteries,” he said.

  That wasn’t an answer, Leah thought. She was about to call him on it when she noticed that Consuela was standing up. A moment later, she and Si’tala shifted into birds and flew away. All around them, the ma’inawo began to retreat back into the desert.

  As Leah watched them leave, she was dying to know how Steve had managed to defuse the situation. She started toward Steve and Auntie but Morago caught her arm.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “They’re still talking.”

  75

  Steve

  When we join the others, Auntie plays up her age by asking Thomas and Santana if they can “help this old woman get back to her home in one piece.” She gives Thomas the six-gun, then slips her hand into the crook of Santana’s arm. Thomas and Santana share a smile.

  “Be careful with that thing,” Morago says, pointing at the gun. “And you might want to keep it out of sight,” he adds.

  Thomas nods and sticks it into his belt at the small of his back. His T-shirt hangs over the gun, hiding it from a casual glance.

  “Don’t shoot your ass off,” Morago says, shaking his head, “or you’ll never get out of this place.”

  Auntie and Santana both bend over laughing. Thomas tries to keep a straight face, but doesn’t succeed. Soon we’re all having a good chuckle.