As soon as one was full, it was paddled across the river where waiting warriors and laborers carried the baskets and sacks to shelter. The ash-stained sands of the canoe landing were now a slushy mess. People slopping back and forth.
“Who would have believed it?” Night Shadow Star asked from beneath a snow-encrusted hood.
“Word is that Clan Keeper Blue Heron herself is overseeing the operation,” Crazy Frog told her.
After the return of his litter, the noted gambler had insisted on accompanying them down to the canoe landing. The nondescript man wore a bark hat that kept his head and shoulders protected. A thick cloak hung from his shoulders for warmth.
“She’s no longer Keeper,” Fire Cat noted.
“Hard not to call her that.” Crazy Frog pulled his blanket tighter. “You really want to leave in this?”
“Sooner is better,” Night Shadow Star told him. “It’s just snow. And a late winter storm at that. It will be melted in a couple of days, and by then we’ll be past the confluence.”
“Cofitachequi’s a long way to travel. Lot of dangers, and not just the wild tribes. The river will try and do everything it can to kill you.”
The gambler reached into his bag, offering a small stone carving to Night Shadow Star. She lifted it, and Fire Cat saw it was in the shape of a fox. Carved from jasper, it had been finished by a master, the beast’s cunning expression artfully worked into the stone.
“You get in trouble on the Tenasee, Lady, you hunt down a Trader called The River Fox. There’s no one better when it comes to the Tenasee. He’s—”
“Winder?” Fire Cat interrupted in surprise. “But he’s the one behind all that Surveyors’ Bundle trouble that—”
“Who can blame a man for a little trouble?” Crazy Frog shrugged, and tilted his bark hat, which allowed a smattering of flakes to land on his shoulder. “That business with the Keeper and Seven Skull Shield last fall, that wasn’t personal. It was a hired job. Winder lives by the Power of Trade. If you give him that token, tell him it’s from me, he’ll get you to Cofitachequi if there’s any human way possible.”
Fire Cat was filling his lungs to object when Night Shadow Star cut him off, saying, “Your kindness is deeply appreciated. On many levels. If we find need, I shall be sure to hire him as a guide.”
“Lady,” Crazy Frog said with a slight bow.
She laid a hand on the gambler’s arm, adding, “I also know how you have served Fire Cat and me in the past. It will not be forgotten.” From her bag she extracted a shell gorget carved in the shape of an open square and depicting four overlaying sides.
This she handed to Crazy Frog, adding, “Should you find yourself in need, present this to either of my aunts. Both Wind and Blue Heron will recognize it and your claim. That gorget was a gift from my first husband. They will do what they can to assist you.”
Crazy Frog spared her a stunned look, bowed deeply, and touched his forehead in respect. “I am honored, Lady.”
Fire Cat shot the man a wary look. This, after all, was Crazy Frog. He had fingers in half of the dirty dealings on the canoe landing—not to mention that he almost lived in War Duck’s pocket, had been in the middle of last fall’s excitement over the Surveyors’ Bundle, and played all sides against the others. In that fiasco, a party of Quiz Quiz had stolen the sacred Bundle containing the Surveyors’ Society’s instruments, the ones they used to lay out angles, measure, and parcel land. People had died, and Cahokia had almost come apart at the seams.
The man had also—through his knowledge of chunkey—played a role in analyzing Fire Cat’s game so that he could win that vaunted match against Swirling Cloud.
Fire Cat sighed, grinned. What matter? Chances were slim that either he or Night Shadow Star would see Cahokia again.
“Now these Traders,” Crazy Frog said, leading them down to the waiting canoe. “They’re Yuchi. From Big Cane Town down on the Great Bend of the Tenasee. I know them. Good people.”
In the falling snow, the canoe, called Red Reed, didn’t look nearly as elegant as it had the last time they’d seen it. Snow clumped on the gunwales and seats, mounded on the packs and box they’d had delivered. But the four men and one woman stood waiting, hoods protecting their heads and shoulders from the thick white flakes.
White Mat, in his thirties, was the leader. Like all river Traders, the man had wide shoulders, muscular arms, and a dark-tanned face.
Shedding Bird, a year younger, had a slightly larger nose than his brother, and kept his hair longer. He grinned at Night Shadow Star in a shy sort of way.
Mixed Shell and Made Man hailed from the same village, both tough-looking, strapping, and sharing that squint-eyed expression that came from years on the water.
The woman, Made Man’s wife, was in her midtwenties; she had been named Half Root. She stood with a cocked hip and studied Night Shadow Star with a saucy air of disregard and superiority.
“These are very important people to me,” Crazy Frog told the Yuchi. “I would take it as a personal favor if you took special care of them.”
“We promised to get them as far as Big Cane Town at the bottom of the Mussel Shallows cataract,” White Mat replied. “Until then, we’ll treat them right.”
“A canoe’s no palace, Lady,” Half Root said, her skeptical gaze still on Night Shadow Star. “We can’t be stopping and camping all the time.”
“We’re aware,” Night Shadow Star told her, a slight smile to her lips. Then her eyes went vacant—a look that told Fire Cat that Piasa was whispering in her ear.
“We can make a fair distance today if we get on the river now,” Fire Cat said in an effort to distract them from Night Shadow Star’s vacant gaze. They’d see a lot of it, but later, once they were on the river. He dropped his weapons and chunkey gear inside the polished bald cypress hull.
To Crazy Frog, he offered his hand. “Thank you. If I run into any outstanding players, I’ll send them your way.”
“Watch your release,” Crazy Frog reminded. “You have a habit of rushing it. Let the stone kiss the ground.”
“I won’t forget.”
Fire Cat helped Night Shadow Star into the canoe, watched her wipe the snow from one of the central benches and seat herself.
Bending his back with the rest, Fire Cat helped shove the hull from the sand, watched as the Traders nimbly leaped into the canoe, grabbing up paddles.
Fire Cat slipped over the side, settling himself beside Night Shadow Star and reaching for one of the paddles.
“You going to help?” Mixed Shell asked, approving.
“We’ll get there faster,” Fire Cat told him. Then he took a look back as the canoe slid out into the current.
Through the falling snow, River Mounds City could barely be made out above the canoe landing—a ghostly outline of buildings that faded into encompassing white. The effect was almost magical.
The bustle around the expedition, an arrow-shot’s distance upstream from them, seemed surreal. Snow-clotted figures like ants in line, trudging to and from the canoes, transferring baskets of corn.
“Spotted Wrist is going to be furious,” Night Shadow Star observed. “He thinks he’s still got days.”
“They’ll have that expedition on the river by tomorrow,” Fire Cat decided. “Wind and Five Fists want them gone.”
“Can they catch us?” Night Shadow Star asked.
As if such a statement was an absurdity, White Mat laughed. “Lady, if that bunch can catch Red Reed, we’ll suck toads and river slime.”
“Red Reed? How did you come up with the name?”
“Ever flick a floating reed with your finger?” Made Man asked. “It almost squirts across the water. The difference is in the bow, sharp, like a knife. Lot of work goes into shaping a proper Trade canoe. This one was crafted down south by the Tunica for river work. Took us years to accumulate the Trade needed to obtain Red Reed.”
“Worth it, though. You’ll see,” Half Root told him from her position in the rear.
She was stroking just as vigorously as the rest of them.
Night Shadow Star was staring off into the snow, as if she could see some pattern in the falling sheets of white. Her mouth pinched, frown lines deepening in her forehead.
After a time, she said, “Nothing will be the same from here on. My master says he’s going to try and kill us now.”
“What? Who?” White Mat asked warily.
“Walking Smoke,” she said cryptically. “He’s going to try and use Power against us. He knows if we make it to Cofitachequi, everything he’s built will be destroyed.”
Sixteen
Turned out that getting into the Morning Star’s great mound complex wasn’t the hard part. Lady Night Shadow Star had given him free use of her palace and its assets. This included not only the finest of noble dress, warm robes, furs, and jewelry, but the ability to choose from a couple of Four Winds Clan staffs of office.
While Green Stick, Winter Leaf, and Clay String wailed at the impropriety of it, Seven Skull Shield was able to dress himself like a noble, paint his face, and brandish a staff of office like it was a grass flail.
The hard part was leaving Farts behind. He and the dog had shared some of the most outlandish adventures.
“This time, you stay behind, my friend,” he told the panting and drooling dog. Bending down on one knee, he mussed the canine’s floppy ears, only to wince at the fetid breath issuing from the beast’s mouth.
Farts watched him with his odd blue-and-brown eyes, the big tail slashing back and forth, knocking a water jar from one of the benches to spill on the matting.
“You don’t mean to leave that … that thing here?” Winter Leaf asked shrilly.
“Well, if he goes along, I’m not making it past the guards at the bottom of the stairs, right? What Four Winds noble do you know who goes everywhere with a big Spirit dog like this one? So, keep him here. Keep him out of trouble. Willow Blossom, you know Farts, don’t let him out.”
“What if he has to go?” she asked. “You saw how much water he drank.”
“That was my cooking water,” Winter Leaf told him through gritted teeth.
“Well, don’t leave it just sitting unattended on the floor like that.”
“I have to throw what’s left out now.”
“Oh, come on. You’re going to boil it, right? Surely a little dog spit doesn’t affect the taste.”
Winter Leaf had her fists clenched at her sides, her body literally shaking. “This is impossible! What did we ever do to the lady to deserve this?”
“Must have been something good,” Seven Skull Shield told her as he climbed to his feet. “She wouldn’t turn a place like this over to just any old thief. She wanted someone outstanding.”
He stepped to the door, setting it aside, and waved for Farts to stay. “I mean it, don’t let him out.”
And with that, Seven Skull Shield set the door back in place behind him.
He peered out through the falling snow. Cahokia was oddly silent, the only sound the soft shishing patter of flakes as they landed on the accumulation.
Seven Skull Shield plodded across the yard, nodded to the snow-capped guardian statues. For once neither Piasa nor Horned Serpent looked very dangerous, their heads mounded in soft white caps of snow. Made them almost look cuddly.
The stairs leading down to the avenue were treacherous. He picked his way one step at a time, feeling the first chill as it ate into the gaps in his clothing. The fine scarlet shirt he’d found in a box was too small.
“That was her first husband’s!” Green Stick had cried in dismay. “You can’t wear that!”
The garment was the only appropriate raiment that came close to fitting. As if Makes Three would care. He’d been dead for years now, his soul disposed of in the Underworld by Fire Cat before Spotted Wrist’s army had paid Red Wing Town a reprisal visit.
At the base of the stairs, Seven Skull Shield slopped his way through the wet snow to the Avenue of the Sun, then along the Great Mound’s base to the snow-cold guards and miserable porters. The latter stood, stamped, batted the snow from their soaked clothing, and shivered as they awaited their masters.
“I bear a message from the Lady Night Shadow Star for the Morning Star,” Seven Skull Shield announced with a flourish and lifted his staff as if it were an invincible weapon.
“Go on,” the guard told him. “Watch out for the steps, had one bad fall already tonight. Bear Clan chief from down south. Got lucky, just broke his leg.”
Seven Skull Shield tested each step, climbing carefully. At the Council House Gate he repeated his claim, was admitted to the Council House courtyard. The climb up the Great Staircase to the Morning Star’s rarefied domain actually unnerved him as wind pasted snow against his clothing and sought to topple him off the slippery and snow-packed wooden steps.
At Morning Star’s palisade gate, the guard, snow-caked and shivering, took one look at the staff and waved him through.
Here and there people huddled in the high courtyard. Snow stuck to one side of the World Tree pole, its top lost in the dark and swirling flakes.
Before entering the palace, Seven Skull Shield hesitated at the great double doors. Little tufts of snow clung to the deeply engraved image of Morning Star.
Did he really want to do this? He could just turn around, head back to the warmth and safety of Night Shadow Star’s palace. Bury himself in Willow Blossom’s soft and welcoming body. Then, in the morning, he could wander the short distance up the avenue to Blue Heron’s palace and ask her what to do.
Nerves weren’t one of his normal responses. He’d sneaked into countless palaces, stolen from some of the most dangerous people in Cahokia, and brazenly courted disaster since he was a snot-nosed kid. But this was different. Sure, he’d been seated across from the living god a time or two, but always in the company of Blue Heron or at the invitation of Night Shadow Star.
This time he’d be going in alone. Literally into the god’s lair. Not as an observer, but as one of the players. Not to mention one who stood right out front. This time he wasn’t working from the shadows, nor was there a safe line of retreat. It was him, alone, in a world he didn’t really like, let alone fully understand.
What if they don’t like Night Shadow Star’s message? Wouldn’t be the first time it got taken out on the messenger.
If only she hadn’t trusted him.
Seven Skull Shield made a face, hated the roiling in his stomach—full as it was with Night Shadow Star’s food—and with a sigh, pushed open the door and slipped into the warmth.
He took a moment, caught his bearings.
Lots of nobles, of course. Many seated, sharing food from large wooden platters. The women were perfectly dressed, hair done, pale shell necklaces at their throats, and faces painted. The same with the men.
Just this side of the fire sat Matron Rising Flame, her hands gesturing as she discussed something with Spotted Wrist. Some of the other nobles were people Seven Skull Shield could only place by their clan insignia. Warriors stood in ranks along each wall, watching the proceedings with bored eyes.
Across the fire, Morning Star reclined on his litter while a pretty young woman dressed in fine fabrics, her hair piled high and pinned, plucked meat from a turkey thigh and plopped it into his mouth.
And here came Five Fists. The lop-jawed old warrior pinned Seven Skull Shield with hard eyes as he crossed the intricately woven matting. He stopped before Seven Skull Shield and fixed on the staff.
“I know you.” The old warrior grinned; crooked as his jaw was, it didn’t come off as friendly. “Tow rope. That thief we were sent after. Blue Heron’s … what? Spy? Confidant?” A pause. “Thieves aren’t welcome here. Bad choice if you were thinking of lifting wealth from anyone, let alone the living god. And you’d better have a most convincing explanation for why you are carrying Makes Three’s staff.”
“Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. Lady Night Shadow Star sent me with a message for the
Morning Star. The staff was to get me past the guards.”
“What message?”
“She said to tell Morning Star that she’s chosen her own way to deal with the problem in the east. One way or another. And that Morning Star would understand. So, if you’ll just go tell—”
“What problem?”
“She didn’t tell me. She had that spooky look like she gets when Piasa is talking to her.”
“Why didn’t she come to tell the living god herself?”
“She’s gone.”
“Where?”
“Didn’t tell me. So there, you know. I’ve done my duty. That being the case, I’ll be more than happy to leave your high and exalted company and remove any temptation you might have to—”
“War Leader?” Morning Star’s voice carried across the room, silencing the conversations. “Who comes?”
Seven Skull Shield made a face as he felt that knot in his stomach begin to turn runny.
Five Fists answered, “The thief, Seven Skull Shield, Lord. He comes bearing a message from Lady Night Shadow Star.”
“Bring him forward.” Morning Star had now fixed his hard, black eyes on Seven Skull Shield.
The fleeting thought ran through Seven Skull Shield’s souls that he could charge, smash Five Fists off his feet, pivot, and sprint like a terrified fox for the gate and stairway. Maybe leap onto the mound’s slope, hope he could slide down on the thick wet snow and not kill himself when he hit the bottom.
But even as he did, two warriors were closing in from either side to act as an escort when Five Fists led the way forward. All eyes in the palace were fixed on him. He felt like an orphan fawn being led to slaughter before the solstice feast—and the hungry diners were watching his every move in anticipation.
Five Fists stopped before the great fire, stepped to the side, and, when Seven Skull Shield hesitated, the warriors behind propelled him forward.
Star Path--People of Cahokia Page 9
