Star Path--People of Cahokia

by W. Michael Gear

  With that she headed for the door, not looking back.

  Fire Cat, still unsettled by it all, called, “Thanks for the warning, thief.” Then, he paused. “You and I … well, we didn’t start so well. Know that you have my gratitude for everything you did for her, for me.” He bowed his head, touching fingertips to his forehead in a gesture of true respect.

  He, too, refused to look back as he passed through the door. All the while he was wondering if he’d ever see Night Shadow Star’s palace again.

  Behind him, he heard Green Stick’s cry of, “She left you in charge? Of us?”

  Clay String was bellowing, “Get that dog away from the stew!”

  Under his breath, Fire Cat muttered, “Thief, something tells me you’ve never been tested the way you’re about to be tested. May Power help you.”

  Then he was past the guardian posts and headed down the stairs to where Night Shadow Star dickered with the porters loitering around Crazy Frog’s ornate litter.

  Twelve

  “She’s gone? What do you mean, she’s gone?” Spotted Wrist thundered. Little drops of flying spittle made Blood Talon flinch. He fought the urge to reach out and push the war leader back, out of his face.

  Around them, the great room in the Four Winds Clan House had gone deathly silent. People were watching, various expressions of amusement, unease, and surprise mixed with a couple of downright smiles.

  The fire burned brightly, pots of food bubbling. The scent of roasted venison, turkey, quail, and fish hinted at the extravagance of the anticipated wedding feast.

  Clan Matron Rising Flame—dressed in her finest with white swan feather splays at each shoulder, a brilliantly dyed red skirt on her hips, and an eagle-feather cloak hanging over her shoulders—stood with her gilded-cedar staff of office. The copper-arrow headdress on her tightly wound hair gleamed like liquid blood in the great fire’s light. No hint of amusement reflected from her dark and angry eyes.

  “Did you search her palace?” Spotted Wrist demanded, his right hand spinning the thick leather arm guard on his left arm—a sign of frustrated embarrassment that Blood Talon had seen but rarely over the years.

  “I myself went through her palace, War Lea … er, Clan Keeper. I had warriors posted on all sides. There was no way she could have escaped. As soon as I determined that she wasn’t in her palace, I sent warriors in all directions. Some to her aunt Blue Heron’s, some to the Morning Star’s palace, others to see if she might be at Rides-the-Lightning’s or perhaps the Sky Watchers’ or the Surveyors’ society, even to the Record Keepers’ society house, and the Women’s house. She wasn’t in any of those places. No one even reported seeing her after she returned from the canoe landing yesterday.”

  “What did her servants say?”

  “That she left this morning.” Blood Talon fought to keep his face straight. “They, uh … Well, one of them, a big man, almost seemed amused. Made me want to take a war club to his smug face. He assured me that the lady had left just after dawn in company of the Red Wing, but he hadn’t a clue as to where she’d been headed.”

  Spotted Wrist’s face worked, the corners of his lips quivering. He twisted his arm guard back and forth so hard that Blood Talon wondered if it would chafe his commander’s skin.

  “I won’t have this! Go! Now, Squadron First. You take your men and you find that woman if you have to pick her up out of the Morning Star’s bed and bring her to me.”

  Blood Talon bent his head low, smacking a fist to his forehead in submissive obedience. “Yes, War Lead … Clan Keeper. Right away, Lord.”

  Spinning on his heel, he winced as Spotted Wrist angrily kicked one of the stewpots, shattering the ceramic and blasting hot liquid to hiss in the fire and spatter on the matting.

  I pity Night Shadow Star. Something tells me her wedding night is going to be most unpleasant.

  Thirteen

  The fire in Columella’s palace burned hot and fierce, which not only illuminated the great room’s interior but came as a welcome relief to Blue Heron’s chilled limbs. While she’d had a blanket wrapped tightly around her as the porters bore her down the Avenue of the Sun to the canoe landing, the chill had slowly eaten its way into her bones.

  Pus and blood! Would summer never come?

  As she’d been taken across the river in a Trader’s canoe, the few rays of sunshine had vanished, thick black clouds blowing down from the northwest. By the time her litter and porters had been ferried across, the first flakes of snow had begun drifting and twisting down from the leaden sky.

  She could smell the strength of it. This was going to be one of those miserable, sodden storms. And it came at the absolute worst time. Somehow she had to get the expedition resupplied in two days.

  Everything now depended upon her relationship with Matron Columella—a woman who had once plotted to destroy Blue Heron. And whose relatives Blue Heron had managed to exile to distant colonies over the years.

  “This is a surprise,” Columella announced as she stepped out from her personal quarters in the rear of the palace. “Wouldn’t have expected you. Or, perhaps I should. Let me guess. The burning of the Cofitachequi expedition’s food warehouse wasn’t an accident. You’re here trying to figure out who the guilty party was.”

  Columella wore a white skirt woven of fine dogbane thread, its hem accented by black Four Winds spirals. Tall moccasins crafted from soft fawnskin rose to her knees. A quilted goose-down cape hung over her shoulders, and a simple hair bun was held in place with polished bone skewers.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a Keeper if I didn’t know who burned the warehouse and why.” Blue Heron clapped her hands before her, happy that feeling had been restored by the roaring fire. “Had to be Spotted Wrist. Oh, not him personally, but one of his trusted warriors. And the reason? To keep Night Shadow Star in town long enough that he can get her to the Clan House and safely married. Once the union is consummated, she can run off to the end of the earth for all he cares.”

  Columella pursed her lips, climbed up onto the litter atop the clay dais across the fire. “Then your presence here is something of a puzzle. What can I do for you?”

  Blue Heron indicated the clay dais where it rose waist-high from the floor. “Flat Stone Pipe in there? If so, he can come out and be comfortable. Matron, you and I are beyond trying to cut each other’s throats and battling for prominence. Back when we did, it proved to be a senseless game that cost us both more than we could afford to lose.”

  “Yes, it did, didn’t it?” Columella smiled wistfully. “I appreciate your candor. Flat Stone Pipe, however, isn’t here. Had I known you were coming, I would have seen to it that he was on hand. I think he’s over in River Mounds City keeping an eye on War Duck and Round Pot. Ever since that debacle when their eternal fire was snuffed last fall, they’ve been struggling to keep their hold on the high chair. Too many cousins are sparring to take them down. Three Fingers, second cousin I think, is up to his eyebrows in intrigue.”

  “It’s been nice, actually, to have them at each other’s throats rather than causing mischief. I, however, am here with a proposition. And yes, it’s about the burned warehouse. It was full of food, corn mostly, that was supposed to keep the expedition fed as it winds its way south and east to Cofitachequi. For a variety of political reasons, Wind, Five Fists, and I need to have those people gone. Day after tomorrow at the latest. For that, I need corn, beans, and squash. A lot of it.”

  “Meaning everything in my warehouses?”

  “How clever you are. You could be a House matron.” Blue Heron shot her a conspiratorial smile. “I owe you, and I take my debts seriously. In return for your food stocks, we, meaning Five Fists and Wind and me, promise to replace every last kernel as soon as we possibly can, even if that means stripping some of the other Houses. And in addition? We’ll give you a tenth part more.”

  “What makes you think the other Houses will allow themselves to be stripped? Let alone see Evening Star House end up with a tenth part mor
e?”

  “I think Morning Star will order it.”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  “Since when is anything sure with Morning Star? But here’s my hunch: He always plays a deep game. He wants Night Shadow Star to make it to Cofitachequi. They’re in that together somehow. Beyond that, he has me pitted against Rising Flame and Spotted Wrist in some kind of competition that I don’t completely understand, but I’ve played the game long enough to know that it’s for keeps. Beyond that, Wind is fully committed to getting that bunch on the river and gone, especially the dissidents. So is Five Fists, who knows how close we came to civil war last fall. And he really despises Spotted Wrist.”

  “You were never really one of his favorites either, as I recall.”

  “This is Five Fists we’re talking about. He doesn’t have favorites. He and I have always tolerated each other. Respected each other. Not that that stopped him from taking me prisoner, nor would it have kept him from dutifully hanging me in a square if the Morning Star ever commanded it.”

  “I’ve had my own troubles, you know. Ever since that vile and twisted Walking Smoke burned my palace, half of my House has been plotting to overthrow me. War Duck and Round Pot are not the only ones who have been staggered by unfortunate events in the past couple of years. But for Flat Stone Pipe, Two Moons would have built a strong enough coalition to have me retired to a farmstead somewhere out west.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Then you are also aware that I raised eyebrows in this House by supporting you and Wind during the Council last year. That fed a lot of suspicion that I was a Morning Star House lackey. People say I’ve lost my nerve, and I’ve surrendered my House and my values to become your creature.”

  Blue Heron ground the few teeth she had left. “We both know better than that.”

  “They don’t.”

  “Evening Star House’s ultimate goals are best served by sending that expedition downriver.”

  “If I give you the food, it will seem like I’m playing your game for you.” Columella arched an eyebrow. “And, like you say, the game is ultimately to unseat Spotted Wrist, isn’t it? Get your position back as Keeper?”

  “I won’t lie to you about that.”

  “Then, what’s the truth about this Koroa copper that has everyone’s balls in a knot? You steal it to make Spotted Wrist look bad?”

  “I did not.”

  “Of course not. Word was there was a dog named Farts involved.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “So, you didn’t steal the copper, but we know who did. Did the thief do it at your suggestion?”

  “I give you my word of honor, I had no part in the planning, execution, or even any knowledge of what happened to that gods-rotted copper.”

  Columella narrowed an eye. “Old friend, I have to tell you, I fear getting involved in your games. I need a couple of months to quell the unrest here on this side of the river without stirring up more trouble for myself.”

  “You’re not going to like it if Spotted Wrist and Rising Flame turn their attention your way. And they will.”

  “Let me think.” Columella took a deep breath, mulling things, her lips moving.

  Blue Heron wasn’t sure if Columella really needed all the time she took to think it through, or if she just stalled as a way to inflict a subtle form of torture. Finally, Columella said, “All right. I’ll empty our warehouses. Resupply the expedition, but I want two-tenths part in addition.”

  Blue Heron felt her heart skip. How was she supposed to sell that to Wind or Five Fists? Especially when it was the end of winter when all of spring lay before the city and most of the granaries were empty? Could she do it? Could Wind?

  “A tenth part and a half.”

  “Done.” Columella slapped a hand to her thigh. “And Blue Heron, if you don’t come through with this, we’re both in trouble. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Fourteen

  The way Seven Skull Shield saw it, he’d just been given a dream and a nightmare. The precariousness of his current situation had really been brought home as he tried to accommodate that squadron first, Blood Talon. The man had arrived shortly after Night Shadow Star and Fire Cat’s departure. Given that he was at the head of a party of armed warriors, and in a pissy mood, and declaring he came at the order of the Four Winds Clan Keeper, it wasn’t like Seven Skull Shield could tell the man to go stick his finger up a dark and nasty place in his posterior.

  So, accompanied by four warriors, Blood Talon had searched the palace, making a mess and getting even further riled as it became apparent that no great Cahokian lady was hiding under one of the sleeping benches or in one of the cooking pots.

  Seven Skull Shield had immediately decided he didn’t like the squadron first. And he’d had to temper his better judgment, which was to wait until the two-footed maggot was faced the other way and whack him in the head with a club. Given the need to appear helpful in proving that Night Shadow Star wasn’t in her palace, it had really hurt to be polite, sound reasonable, and acquiesce.

  Somehow, the knowledge that twenty-some warriors surrounded the palace kept him from acting on his impulses. Therefore, he’d pasted on his honest face, kept Farts from peeing on the man’s leg, and gladly explained that he had no idea where Night Shadow Star was. Then he’d maintained his polite veneer while the man searched, and poked, and prodded in places that would have enraged Night Shadow Star’s propriety.

  Sometimes he even amazed himself.

  Seven Skull Shield had kept his mouth shut as the warriors withdrew, irritated and mumbling among themselves. Then he’d clapped his hands and looked again at the palace to which he’d been entrusted.

  What in seven shades of shit did he know about a palace, let alone Night Shadow Star’s? Palaces were for robbing, not running.

  When it came to Green Stick, Clay String, and Winter Leaf, the way they looked at him was the same as if some giant bug had just crawled in their door.

  Willow Blossom, however, was still in a state of wonderment. After Night Shadow Star’s departure, Willow Blossom had collapsed, loose-limbed, onto one of the sleeping platforms, whispering, “That was really her. I’m in her palace. No one will believe this.”

  Willow Blossom had told Seven Skull Shield that she was a Panther Clan woman from somewhere up beyond the eastern bluffs. Said her parents had raised her in a small mound group out by the Moon Mound in the prairie lands a day’s hard travel east on the Avenue of the Sun. There they kept an eye on the local dirt farmers and laborers who worked for the moon priests.

  She’d considered a marriage to Robin Feather as a step up in wealth and status—if not happiness and wedded bliss. Now she gawked at the finery that surrounded her. Something feral gleamed behind her eyes, an eagerness in her expression.

  “Most of this,” Seven Skull Shield told her, “was winnings from when Fire Cat beat that Natchez, Swirling Cloud. I hear it was a remarkable game. Each player wagered his life on the outcome. All of Cahokia bet against Fire Cat. In the end, the Red Wing won all this and more. First thing he did, though? He clubbed Swirling Cloud in the head, and then he cut it off the man’s still-twitching body. That’s Swirling Cloud’s skull up there. The polished one painted red.”

  She followed his finger to where the Natchez’s skull grinned down from up by the center pole.

  “Who is this woman?” Green Stick demanded, stepping forward. “What’s this all about? Why would our lady trust you, of all people?”

  “As to Willow Blossom, she’s a friend of mine. She’s going to stay here for a while because it’s safe.” Seven Skull Shield spread his hands wide. “Listen, Night Shadow Star caught me by as much surprise as she did the rest of you. So, here’s the thing: I don’t want to get in your way. Do what you normally do. Cook and all that. Keep the fire going, get wood, water.”

  “And what are you doing?”

  “I have my own affairs to attend to.” He made a face, glancing out the
door. “She really thinks they’ll let me in to give Morning Star her message?”

  And will it put me in special danger when I do it?

  That sent a shiver up his back. He’d never enjoyed Four Winds politics. Especially since he was more or less expendable in the eyes of the various two-footed serpents who struggled for supremacy among the privileged elite. After all, what was one shiftless and clanless thief compared to lords, chiefs, matrons, and war leaders?

  “You mean that?” Willow Blossom asked. “You’re really going up there? Face to face with the living god?”

  “I’ve been there before. Granted, it was with the Keeper.” Still, it left him feeling unusually wary.

  “I thought that was a lie to impress me.”

  “Oh, he lies all right,” Clay String muttered where he was trying to shoo Farts away from the food bowls. Long threads of drool were spindling off the dog’s jowls. “Just not about the impossible things. You should have seen him passing himself off as a noble when our lady had to marry that despicable Itza.”

  “Didn’t think she needed to marry another pile of walking vomit like Spotted Wrist.”

  “He’s a great man,” Winter Leaf shot back from where she was folding some of the blankets that Blood Talon had tossed about in his search.

  “Explain what’s so great about him?” Seven Skull Shield asked as he paced along the walls, looking at stacks of boxes, jars, and overstuffed baskets. “Compared to Fire Cat, he’s a bit of walking puke. All this, these are the Red Wing’s winnings from the chunkey court, and Night Shadow Star gave away the rest of it. Only the Morning Star has more wealth in the whole world.”

  “And Night Shadow Star leaves the most notorious thief in Cahokia in charge of it?” Green Stick wondered. “How does that work?”

  A very good question, and one Seven Skull Shield was asking himself.

  Fifteen

  Snow fell in thick sheets. At times Fire Cat could barely see farther than he could have thrown a rock. And then a shift in the wind would leave a hole, as if parting a veil in the dancing and falling flakes. At those times he could see clear across the Father Water to where gangs of men and women slipped and slid their way down the path from Evening Star Town to pile basket after basket of corn into the waiting Trade canoes.