More shaken by her reaction to his nearness than his threat, she nodded her head. He let go of her hands and backed off, taking away the thong and his soothing touch with it. But he remained behind her, and she felt his wary gaze piercing into her.
The rest of the short walk was the most interminable journey of Lily's life. They passed a long log building, where more people were gathered to watch her pass.
And always they chanted. At times monotonous, then rising to a sweet crescendo, only to return to monotony.
Finally they reached the cliffs. Lily dared a glance up, and saw windows and doorways carved into the stone. Crude wooden ladders and narrow ledges gave the people access to their homes.
White Hawk nudged her. "Climb."
"Are you taking me to my cell?" Lily asked as she put a foot on the bottom rung.
He waited until she'd climbed several rungs, then he moved to follow. When they were many feet above the ground, he answered, "If you're asking if you'll be locked up, no. The desert is a much more unforgiving jail than we could ever devise."
She didn't doubt him. If she'd found this place inhospitable as a werewolf, her mortal shell would find it abhorrent. Deadly.
But she glanced down at him anyway, startled to see they were already about three stories above the ground. The height made her momentarily dizzy. She paused, clinging to the polished rung, and squeaked, "How much farther?"
"The next plateau."
"Umm, good." Reluctantly she released one rung, clutched another, then another. Soon they reached the plateau and she scrambled off the ladder and waited for White Hawk to join her.
He led her along the walkway—which was much wider than it had appeared from the ground—until they reached the farthest door.
"These will be your quarters until you face the Tribunal."
"And then what?"
Hostility flashed in his eyes. “Can’t say."
"Won't, you mean."
"Whatever you choose to think."
She turned from him and went into the pueblo. A clay lantern hung from the ceiling and held several lit candles that flickered across the spacious room. Lily had expected a cave of sorts. Instead, she found the room quite pleasant, almost as comfortable as the den she'd shared with Jorje. A platform built of reeds and branches, and covered with several layers of sheepskin, occupied one end. A well-crafted table sat against the adjacent wall and held a brightly painted basin, a pitcher and a cup. Several cloths hung on a rail beneath it.
She heard White Hawk drop the backpack and then release the burdens on his back. A sleeping bag flew over her shoulder, landing on the platform. Glancing back, she saw him kneel to remove his few belongings from the pack.
"Take off your boots," he said, standing and walking toward the platform with the now-familiar packet and bottle in hand. "I'll tend that blister."
Lily almost groaned. He'd ignored, insulted, and humiliated her. Now he wanted to be her nursemaid again. Too tired to protest, she did as he asked. The blister was driving her crazy, and his voodoo medicine did seem to help.
When she lowered herself onto the bed, sinking into its incredible softness, she realized how deep her weariness ran. It almost seemed to take too much effort to bend over and remove her shoes. As if sensing her fatigue, White Hawk began unlacing the boot on the blistered leg.
"Star Dancer will call for you at dawn," he said, stripping down her sock. "Rest while you can."
Needing no encouragement, Lily fell back. As her overworked muscles sighed in relief, White Hawk removed the boot and sock from the other foot, then began massaging both her arches.
"White Hawk," she said drowsily, her eyelids feeling like weights. "Why are you being so nice? I know you hate me for what happened to your wife."
His hands stop moving, and she felt them flex ever so slightly. "You're weak from your injuries and the difficult journey," he finally said. "The Tribunal needs you healthy for the inquisition."
"Inquisition," she echoed softly. "Oh what a pleasant thought to carry into my dreams." Then as White Hawk's strong fingers stroked her aching feet, she fell fast asleep.
* * *
"Lady? Lady?"
The tentative feminine voice stirred Lily from her dreamless sleep. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she saw a young girl peering shyly at her.
"Yes?" Her parched throat made her voice raspy, and the girl didn't respond immediately, so Lily repeated herself.
"It's dawn time, lady. Star Dancer has sent for you."
Right on schedule, Lily thought, wondering how these people did it without clocks. She elbowed herself into a sitting position and a lightweight blanket fell to her waist.
White Hawk must have covered her before he left, she thought, running her hands through her tangled hair and feeling somewhat like a calf being pampered for the kill. She glanced over at the girl, who looked terribly frightened.
"Couldn't your tribe spare a warrior?"
"I don't understand, lady."
"Never mind." Lily climbed off the platform. She still wore her dust-encrusted clothing and dirt streaked her arms and legs. She imagined her face didn't look much better.
She turned to the girl, who had her eyes firmly affixed to the floor, and asked, "Can I wash first?"
"Oh yes. That's why I'm here. To help you dress for the meeting."
"In a ceremonial robe I suppose."
The girl's brows knitted together, but she still didn't meet Lily's gaze. "Robe? No, lady. You may wear what you will."
Now that her mind was clearing, Lily realized the poor frightened child had nothing to do with her misery, and while she wasn't exactly being cruel, she wasn't being kind either. "My name's Lily," she said more gently. "What is yours?"
"I am Shala White Hawk, daughter of Tajaya and Tony," the child replied in a proud voice, bobbing her head.
Instantly Lily recognized her from the night before.
As the girl spoke, her dark hair bounced around her face, falling back to form a flawless chin-length cap, and though her face was still childishly round she had White Hawk's prominent cheekbones.
In her bobbing, Shala's eyes met Lily's for a fraction of a second. She quickly directed them back at the floor. This gave Lily just enough time to see their deep blue shade and the lapis-hued striations that made them seem like cracked glass.
The child has her mother's eyes, Lily thought, suddenly feeling a little sick.
"Does your father know you're here?" she asked, certain White Hawk would never want his daughter within miles of her.
Shala chanced another glance. "Star Dancer said I could come, lady."
"I see." Lily wanted to walk over and give the girl a pat, maybe a hug, but knew she'd only frighten her, so she simply added, "Lily, sweetheart, not lady. Call me Lily."
"Yes, Lily. Would you like me to pour water for washing? Later, after you meet with Star Dancer, we can go to the river for a real bath."
A nice way to tell me I'm filthy, Lily thought. The girl moved to the table and stood on her tiptoes to reach the pitcher. She solemnly filled the basin, then bent and took a small painted box from a shelf. Lily watched her precise movement, wondering how old she was. Six perhaps, eight at the most, and despite her trepidations she was poised and articulate beyond her years.
Now that the bowl was filled, Shala turned to her, holding out the box.
"Items for your cleansing." After Lily took the box the girl pointed to a large pot on the lower shelf. "That's for, well, other necessities. You may empty it each morning into the pit at the other end of the walkway."
During the entire explanation, Shala kept her head turned away, and Lily smiled wryly, knowing the reason.
"I can't enchant you with my eyes, Shala."
"Yes, la—Lily." But she kept her eyes averted nonetheless.
Supposing reassurances from a werewolf weren't really very reassuring, Lily opened the box. It held a small mirror, which she took out and put on the table, not wanting to see herself unt
il she'd washed. Underneath the mirror was a large-toothed comb and a rectangular bar wrapped in some kind of polished bark. With a small start, Lily noted the comb was plastic, and when she removed the bark she discovered a new bar of soap etched with the word Ivory.
Ivory soap? And there were also a toothbrush and a tube of Crest.
"I thought the Dawn People never left the canyon," she said as she bent to splash the wonderfully cool water on her face. "Where do you get these things?"
"Oh, some of our warriors, both men and women, go to the mechanical world. They bring back that which we can use."
Lily slanted a glance at her as she washed her face, and saw the child dare a quick return look "Have you ever uh, ever seen the Disney lands?"
"Disneyland. Yes, yes, Shala, I have."
"Are there truly monsters? And high, high rolling carts that fall down mountains very fast?" Her soft voice quickened and Lily could see excitement on her face.
"Yes, there are, but they're only make-believe. You're always safe. It's a fun place to visit."
"Oh, I knew it!" Shala clapped her hands to her chest. "And are there big longhouses where people watch moving images that tell stories? And carts that move without horses or donkeys?"
Lily nodded. "How did you learn of these things?"
"We small ones hear the warriors talking." Shala dipped down, snagged a cloth from beneath the table, and gave it to Lily.
The cloth was soft and absorbent against Lily's sunburned skin, even more so than the expensive towels she'd used most of her life. When her face was dry, she placed it back on the table, then began washing her arms.
"Was it a long walk from the top of the canyon?" Shala asked.
"Very long."
"Too long for a little girl, I bet. And are the Disney lands far away?"
"Very far," Lily answered gravely, bending over to tend to her grimy legs. "Especially if you're walking."
"Maybe Papa will take me there. I'd so much like to see it before we return to Quakahla."
Lily lifted her head questioningly. "What is Quakahla?"
"When the nights grow longer and the dark moon rises, The People will pass over into—"
"Shala!"
They both jerked their heads toward the door, where a scowling Black Hawk was holding back the drape.
Today he wore cutoffs and a Jerry Garcia T-shirt. It figured he'd be a Deadhead, Lily thought irritably.
"I didn't think he'd like you being here," she whispered to the wide-eyed child.
White Hawk scowled at Lily, but his face softened as he looked at his daughter.
"What are you doing here?" he asked gently. "Star Dancer said I could come."
"She did, did she?"
"She asked me to wake the lady and bring her to the longhouse."
"A very fine job you've done of it too, but I'll take over from here. You may go now. Your friends are waiting."
"Yes, Papa." Shala looked disappointed, but she went out the door as asked.
When she was gone, White Hawk dropped the curtain and stepped into the pueblo.
"Stay away from her, Lily."
Lily indolently returned to drying her legs, then peeled off the adhesive bandage, only mildly surprised to find the blister had completely healed. She glanced up at White Hawk, but felt in no mood to thank him. "Do you think I'll eat her? If you recall, I rarely indulge in meat these days."
"That doesn't change what you did to her mother. If she becomes fond of you . . . “ Lily could feel him suppress a shudder. "It would break her heart should she ever find out."
"Oh that." Tossing the towel back onto the table, Lily turned toward the backpack. "Well, don't you worry, White Hawk. It's unlikely she'd ever grow fond of a monster such as me, isn't it?"
A quizzical expression crossed his face. As usual his thoughts were guarded and Lily couldn't read the source of his emotion, but he radiated far less animosity. Probably from lack of energy, she concluded. It had been a long hike for him too.
"Hurry," he said brusquely. "Star Dancer is waiting." When Lily didn't move, he added, "Now."
She gave him a pointed stare, but got no reaction.
"Do you mind?" She glanced at the door. "I have to change clothes."
White Hawk backed out of the door and pulled the curtain shut. Going to the high windows, Lily stretched up and drew the coverings closed, then dropped her clothes and washed the remainder of her body.
She took her time, running the comb through her dirty tangled locks and longing for the bath in the river Shala had mentioned. Outside, she could hear White Hawk's moccasins making soft rapid taps on the walkway.
Let him wait, she thought, moving to the backpack. She opened it and rummaged through the contents. After slipping into underwear, she pulled out a filmy Armani blouse and almost smiled. One day in this environment would leave it sweat-stained and tattered beyond repair.
"What's taking so long?" White Hawk called.
Lily didn't answer. Not caring what the weather would do to it, she put on the blouse, then chose a pair of raw silk shorts that wouldn't hold up much better. If she was about to face her judge, she would damn well look her best.
Chapter Nine
Coffee? Although Lily didn't know exactly what she'd expected, this woman definitely wasn't it. Her tall, regal, and ageless bearing wasn't surprising, nor was the loosely braided black hair that fell to her waist. What came as a shock was the gray T-shirt with a large fiery orange basketball and the words Go Suns that somehow blended naturally with her ankle-length broomstick skirt.
The coffee, which Lily accepted appreciatively, also came as a shock.
"How do you like it?"
"With cream?" she replied hopefully.
Star Dancer turned to a metal stove where a small clay pot wafted a rich coffee aroma, and nodded to a small jar. "Will powdered do?"
Despite her apprehension, Lily laughed. Star Dancer looked at her with twinkling eyes. "I said something funny?"
"All those years. . . .Well, I assumed your tribe survived off the land." Lily shook her head in bemusement. "Ivory Soap, Crest, toothbrushes, and plastic combs . . . coffee and Creamora? I almost feel I'm home."
The High Shaman smiled.
"It's our weakness. We've grown attached to the comforts of the mechanical world. Fortunately many of our brave ones are willing to venture out to bring them back." Star Dancer's grin widened. "Although at times I think they don't find it much of a hardship."
Lily relaxed under the wattage of Star Dancer's smile. She'd entered the longhouse expecting judgment. But from the moment she'd met those eyes that were much the shade of White Hawk's, she knew they were different. Unlike her captor, this woman's eyes radiated only kindness.
Star Dancer came forward, holding two brightly painted cups, and handed one to Lily, then turned to a cupboard beside the stove. In a moment she gave Lily a spoon, lovingly crafted from silver. "For the creamer."
As Lily spooned the powder into her steaming coffee, she said, "White Hawk wasn't happy that Shala came to get me."
"He has implied as much." Star Dancer stepped onto a dais at the end of the building and lowered herself to a sheepskin rug, sitting cross-legged. She gestured to a nearby stool. "You may sit there if you wish."
"The rug is fine." Lily found herself unable to emulate the woman's graceful descending movements, but she finally made herself comfortable and took a sip of coffee.
"The child has much curiosity about you," Star Dancer said, as though their conversation hadn't been interrupted. "She is wise well beyond her winters and has a destiny as a shaman. White Hawk knows he must respect her free will."
Lily nodded sagely as if she actually understood the philosophy behind the woman's words. "A lovely girl.”
"Delightful. As is this delicious brew." Star Dancer sipped her own coffee, swallowed, and then made a noise of appreciation. "Now ask me what you will, Lily. You must have many questions."
Astounded by the directness, Li
ly laughed again. "Many? Oh, yes, many questions. I don't even know where to begin."
"Begin with what's at the forefront of your mind."
"What will you do with me?"
"Yes, yes, that's good. You will face the Tribunal, Lily, to answer for your crimes against The People."
The reply wasn't unexpected. Hadn't White Hawk already told her that? Yet, though she'd never known a quarry's fear before, she felt it now and recognized it for exactly what it was.
"That's all you wish to know?" Star Dancer asked gently when Lily remained silent.
To deal with her panic, she assumed the businesslike tone she might have once used with an attorney. "Am I to be executed?"
Star Dancer took another sip of coffee, swallowing appreciatively. Finally she answered.
"Most likely you won't survive."
"Are you saying I could?"
"Only if you meet the Tribunal with an open heart, Lily. Acknowledge and own up to the evil and pride in your deeds — the evil and pride that is in all of us. By doing this you will prevail. Denial. Blaming others. These will bring your downfall."
At a loss for words, Lily took another sip of coffee. Star Dancer patted her knee. "I've offered prayers in your behalf to the Great Spirit."
Lily's eyes widened. “Your people don't want me dead?"
"Some do. But all is as it should be and they will come to understand that. Finish your coffee now, Lily, then you may go. You're free to roam the village. Eat when you're hungry, go where you like, talk to whomever you wish. But don't be surprised if most do not reply."
She wouldn't be surprised at all. They wouldn't even look at her. As she quietly sipped her coffee, Star Dancer rose and went to a long simple table in the middle of the platform, where she lit a slim stick and placed it upright in a block of day. In a few minutes, a sweet, pleasing fragrance filled the longhouse.
When she'd drained the cup, Lily put it on the floor and got up too, in no hurry to leave but well aware the audience had ended. As she passed Star Dancer, the woman gave her a gentle smile, but didn't speak.
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