Moon Hunt

by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

  “Spotted Wrist!” Fire Cat almost spat the words, his fists knotting, eyes narrowing to slits. Instinctively he rocked up on his toes, knees flexing.

  “Stand down, Red Wing,” she told him gently.

  Spotted Wrist had watched Fire Cat’s reaction as if it were high entertainment, and now raised his hands. “I come in peace, Lady. I seek only to pay my respects as an old friend, and to see if I can cage a cup of black drink and perhaps a bite or two of bread.”

  “We didn’t know you were coming,” she said weakly, off balance by the sudden pounding of her heart.

  “I wasn’t aware that I needed to send a messenger in advance. I would have thought word of my arrival would have long since been communicated to you.”

  “We’ve heard nothing. But then, with the new matron…”

  “Ah, yes. I heard that you didn’t even attend the choosing. Sounds like everything’s in a slow boil of chaos. My apologies for just appearing out of the day. I could come back another time if it would be more convenient.”

  She made herself smile, dragging up old memories of the times he had shared her hearth, told stories until late into the night, and how he’d consoled her after word arrived of Makes Three’s death. In many ways he almost had been more of a father, advisor, and confidant to her than Red Warrior had been. He remained the same man. That he’d taken Red Wing Town, destroyed the heretics, and pacified the north in the service of Cahokia and the Morning Star had been her earnest wish as well.

  “Yes, yes, do come in.” She reached out, taking his hand, smiling. “You are indeed welcome. Green Stick! Black drink and food for the war leader.”

  To Fire Cat she shot a pleading look. “He is my guest.”

  “Yes, Lady.” Fire Cat said it through clenched jaws as he stood aside.

  As she led Spotted Wrist inside, the war leader bent close, whispering, “Rather like having a rabid wolf on a leash, is he?”

  “He’s kept me alive, old friend.”

  She placed him at the fire and dropped down to take a seat beside him. Glancing back she was relieved to see that Fire Cat had remained at the door; he stood like a warrior at attention: head back, feet apart, hands clenched behind him, and his gaze on infinity.

  She could only imagine the thoughts torturing his souls.

  “So, I would hear it from your lips, Lady. What on earth possessed you to cut him down?”

  “Piasa.” She regarded Spotted Wrist thoughtfully, seeing the man she’d known for most of her life. Her father’s best friend. “And yes, the Water Panther took my souls. I am his creature. I serve him and the Underworld.”

  The intensity of his study bothered her. Then he said, “You are different. Changed. Harder, dangerous, and cutting. Not at all the broken young woman I left behind.”

  “I may come across as all of those things, but obsidian has those same qualities. However, if you bend it, or drop it, like me it will snap and shatter into splinters.”

  “Perhaps.” He gestured toward the door. “And the Red Wing? I sent him to you to torture to death after what he did to your first husband.”

  She paused, sniffed wryly. “Piasa ordered me to cut Fire Cat down from the square. Half dead as he was, he thought I was First Woman, appeared out of the rain and night to take his life soul to the Underworld. I hated the thought of cutting him down even more than I hated him. Barely restrained myself from killing him more than once. I came so close, and he begged me to do it.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Piasa ordered me not to. In the end he was right. The Red Wing has saved my life over and over. Saved the city he says he detests.” She smiled. “It’s an interesting relationship.”

  The lines around Spotted Wrist’s eyes tightened. “There are rumors. Does he serve you in the most intimate of ways?”

  “No. As if it were anyone’s business.”

  “It’s not. I was just curious.”

  “What would you care … even if he did?”

  “As you said, none of my business.” But she could tell he was secretly pleased. “So first you defeated Walking Smoke, then managed to destroy the Itza and the Natchez who accompanied him. Heard you married that Mayan lord. What was that like?”

  “A nightmare.” She shook her head. “But what about you? You are the hero of the north. You did what three previous war leaders could not. You took Red Wing Town without the loss of a single man. What was it like, pacifying the north?”

  “Taking the town wasn’t that difficult. Getting three thousand men to travel that far that fast? That was the challenge. We had to outrun word of our coming. And, to be honest, Power was on our side. If we’d had to fight it out like my predecessors did, it would have been a much bloodier affair, and the north would still be in flames.”

  “But you took the town without a fight.’

  “We were up and over the walls before they had a clue. The men were killed in their beds, the women and children rounded up and enslaved.” He pointed a finger. “That, more than anything, made the forest tribes amenable to negotiating a peace. The Red Wing Clan had this reputation for ferocity and invincibility. That we could crush them so gave the barbarian tribes pause. I acted immediately, dealing with them one chief at a time. Since then it’s just been a matter of keeping a lid on the pot, so to speak. Letting them get used to the idea that we’re not going to hunt them down and murder them in their sleep unless they break the peace.”

  “Are you back for good?”

  “I am.” He took the cup of black drink that Green Stick handed him, offering it to the four directions, to sky, and to earth before sipping. “And I’d like to spend more time with you, if you wouldn’t mind.” He squinted into the rear. “Is that Sun Wing back by your door?”

  “She seems to do better here. Curious, but when she’s at peace, the Tortoise Bundle is as well.” She took her own cup. “You’ve heard about that?”

  “Word of your activities and achievements runs up and down the river faster than the migrating flocks of birds. I figured I’d find you installed as the Four Winds Clan matron. You were headed that way before your husband…” He didn’t finish, but glanced suggestively toward Fire Cat.

  “I cannot serve a Sky Clan when my Power comes from the Underworld.” She, too, glanced at where Fire Cat remained at stiff attention. She’d seen him like this before, when she’d had to marry the Itza. “This is hard on him. Having you here.”

  Again that intent stare. “Lady, do you know what he did to your husband?”

  She shook her head wistfully and dropped her voice below Fire Cat’s hearing. “No. I heard enough of the stories from the survivors to guess how it went for him. But I value it that Fire Cat lied to me when he said Makes Three died well.”

  “You shouldn’t use your husband’s name. It can have—”

  “I’ve seen Makes Three’s souls in the Underworld, old friend. Having walked among the dead, I have latitude others don’t.”

  “Then what of the here and now? I do hope that your Red Wing doesn’t hold a grudge. Or would I be wise to appoint a full-time guard to accompany me?”

  She laughed at that. “Fire Cat does hold a grudge. But if I ask him to swear on his honor to keep you safe, he will die before he’ll break his word to me. The one thing more important to him than life is his honor.”

  “Are you so sure of that?”

  “I am.”

  “How?”

  “I am alive, Spotted Wrist.” She arched a challenging eyebrow and sipped her black drink. “But for his impeccable honor, I would be long dead.”

  Spotted Wrist was watching Fire Cat through sloe-dark eyes, incalculable thoughts churning down in his souls. “What are your plans now, Lady?”

  “To live a day at a time—to try and seek peace for my souls and find a way to balance the needs of Power. I no longer take such things for granted. Not after all that has happened to me.”

  “I could help with that.”

  She gave him a wry smile.
“You always counseled me toward patience, enjoined me to behave better when I was a wild girl running with my rowdy brothers. A couple of times, you covered for some of my worst behavior when you shouldn’t have. You were the friend I needed when Makes Three was killed, and led an army north to avenge him. Partly, I think, for me.”

  “A lot for you.”

  “All right, a lot for me. How are you going to help me now? Place yourself between Piasa and the Tortoise Bundle? Dance the delicate Dance that separates me from the Morning Star? Offer yourself as my shield against the vicissitudes of Cahokia’s cutthroat politics and clan scheming?”

  “I would,” he said softly. “You are not the only one who has changed. I have, too. My lineage is descended from Red Night. Should some unforeseen woe befall Wolverine, I would be the logical choice for high chief of North Star House. White Phlox—despite being Wolverine’s brother—could not succeed to the high chair if I, the Hero of the North, asked for it. After my meeting with the Morning Star this morning, I think I can ask for anything in Cahokia and be granted it.”

  “You have done him a remarkable service. Well he should.”

  He fixed his clever eyes on hers. “Yes, we have been friends for so long, and yes, I have sought to guide and befriend you when others would not. I stood by while you wept in defeat, laughed at your pranks, and watched your heart bleed with grief. But that was when you were a girl.”

  “And what am I now?”

  “A woman. Perhaps the only one worthy of the Hero of the North. I didn’t just come for the food and drink, or to catch up on the last year. I thought I would ascertain your situation and plans before I asked the Morning Star for permission to marry you.”

  Night Shadow Star’s heart skipped; she closed her mouth lest she look foolish. “But, I…”

  By the door, Fire Cat had gone so rigid he looked like his back would snap, his face a mask of agony.

  “You needn’t answer immediately.” Spotted Wrist smiled. “Now, let’s relax and talk gossip. I have so much to catch up on.”

  She could only stare.

  Twenty-nine

  Sometimes dogs weren’t very smart. To Seven Skull Shield’s way of thinking, it was a trait the four-footed, tail-wagging beasts shared with most people. Take that very moment: Seven Skull Shield sat cross-legged before the crackling central fire in Columella’s mound-top palace in Evening Star Town. A rich, greasy stew bubbled in the big, gray, corrugated pot set down deep in the coals. Tendrils of steam carried the stew’s savory odor throughout the building.

  Farts, ears pricked, eyes intent, crouched on his belly several paces away, his body literally quivering from excitement and expectation as he eyed Seven Skull Shield’s bowl. Twin filaments of drool leaked from his jowls.

  All that anticipation, and for what? A chance to gorge himself on the stew. And sure, it was made from a stock of mashed corn, little barley, maygrass seeds, wild plums, and squash, but the majority of the meat was … well, dog. As Seven Skull Shield constantly reminded his four-footed friend, dog was a common food in Cahokia. The carcasses of no less than three suckling pups had been tossed in to finish the recipe.

  And there was Farts, apparently heedless of the fact that he was desperate to commit the foul act of cannibalism.

  “Perhaps he hasn’t a clue,” Flat Stone Pipe noted where he sat to Seven Skull Shield’s right, his own bowl in hand. He scooped out mouths full with a bison-horn spoon that he clutched in his small hand. And he could apparently read Seven Skull Shield’s thoughts.

  “I could tell by your expression, thief.” The dwarf had an eyebrow lifted, his dark eyes knowing and amused. “Would you recognize the smell of human meat if you walked up and found it roasting on a spit?”

  “Now, that, little man, I cannot tell. Seems to me that I might figure it out from the size and shape of the steaks.”

  “And if it were in chunks? Just floating in the broth? Perhaps sweetened with other spices and foods?”

  “Now there I don’t know.” Seven Skull Shield gestured with his bowl. “But I think I’ll see to it that Farts gets a couple of dried fish afterwards, since he’s not getting so much as a lick of this.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a dog’s cleaned up the remains of his fellows, especially given as common as—”

  “I have certain standards, little friend. Low as they may be.”

  Columella had been watching from the side of the room. She sat perched on one of the benches and helped her daughter Onion Flower as she worked on a fabric skirt. Now she called, “Did you come to eat, thief, or look for Blue Heron?”

  “Are you absolutely sure she’s missing?” Seven Skull Shield asked. “Sometimes that woman catches wind of something and, being the Keeper and all, takes off to deal with it.”

  “She’s no longer the Keeper,” Columella told him. “The new matron, Rising Flame, dismissed her.”

  Seven Skull Shield frowned in disbelief.

  “Said Blue Heron didn’t show enough respect.” Flat Stone Pipe scooped up another spoonful of stew.

  “Dripping pus and stinking blood,” Seven Skull Shield growled, “what kind of nonsense is that? So … who’s Keeper now?”

  “Don’t know,” Flat Stone Pipe admitted. “My spies will send a runner the instant any choice is made.”

  “I told her,” Columella said as she shifted the orange-dyed fabric so that Onion Flower could run a whipstitch along two edges. “Made no bones about it that she was as good as a walking target.”

  “So where did it happen? Who grabbed her?”

  “My people have been asking around,” Flat Stone Pipe told him. “As best we can discern from those who saw her last, she walked away from the stickball game with two men. Some thought they were either river Traders or loggers, given the muscles in their shoulders and arms.”

  “River Traders?” Seven Skull Shield mused, a feeling of dread building in his gut.

  “One of the men may have had Panther Clan tattoos. The only other thing anyone remembered was that they were dressed well, which would argue against loggers.”

  “Any other word floating around?” Seven Skull Shield asked. “Like from someone who figured to take advantage of the Keeper’s dismissal? Maybe settle a grudge?”

  “That’s half of Cahokia, thief.” Columella inclined her head in a gesture that said he should know better.

  “What have you heard about the Quiz Quiz?” Seven Skull Shield looked back and forth between them.

  “Just what the Keeper … er, Blue Heron told me during her visit. That someone stole the man who stole the Surveyors’ Bundle. She was expecting quite a storm as the new matron tried to deal with it.”

  “Winder,” Seven Skull Shield said woodenly.

  “What’s a winder?” Flat Stone Pipe asked as he used walnut bread to sop up the last of his stew.

  “Not a what, a who.” Seven Skull Shield tipped his bowl up and drank the last of the dregs before he added, “Old friend of mine. A scoundrel like me. You’d like him, little man. When we were younger he took to the Trade. I ran into him out in front of the Surveyors’ Society House. He told me he was working for the Quiz Quiz. Looking for the war leader.”

  “If he got the war leader back, why would he be interested in harassing Blue Heron? Let alone kidnapping her?” Columella wondered. “The smart thing would have been to toss what was left of their war leader in a canoe and break their backs racing the current back to Quiz Quiz. Taking the Keeper—even if it’s for a payback—is like flicking a water moccasin on the nose. You’re going to regret it.”

  Seven Skull Shield felt a sudden queasy understanding down in his gut. He had a feeling he knew what the Quiz Quiz were looking for.

  But, did anyone else?

  Flat Stone Pipe served Columella as head spy for a reason: He didn’t miss much. Now the dwarf asked, “What are you thinking, thief? You know something?”

  “Something I heard,” Seven Skull Shield muttered. “Just a rumor. That they
lost more than their war leader that day when I ran him to ground.”

  “Lost what?”

  “Some sort of a box. Something they brought with them from Quiz Quiz.”

  Columella stared thoughtfully at the fabric in her lap. “Lots of boxes could have come with them. Why would they care about a box?”

  “Because of what was in it,” Flat Stone Pipe guessed, his intent gaze fixed on Seven Skull Shield. “What would you guess that was, thief?”

  “Trade? Maybe for a bribe?” From long practice, he kept his face blank. It had to be that accursed War Medicine.

  “Why would they stick their necks out—let alone poke the Cahokian wasps’ nest—over a box of Trade?” Columella added from the side. “Call it a loss and run.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t Trade.” Seven Skull Shield set the bowl to one side, using the opportunity to point a hard finger at Farts as a distraction. “You stay right there, dog. You’ll get yours later.”

  Farts answered with a tortured whine, as if he were starving and abused.

  “It’s something sacred,” Flat Stone Pipe said. “Some Power charm, possession of the ancestors, a sacred artifact—something they can’t leave behind.”

  “Why would they think Blue Heron would know where it was?” Columella asked.

  Seven Skull Shield told her, “They know it was Blue Heron who orchestrated the snatch when I found Sky Star. They’re going to figure that he had the box with him when I beat him up over in River Mounds City. That naturally I took the box to the Keeper. And now that they have the Keeper, they can Trade her for the box.”

  Flat Stone Pipe was watching him through narrowed eyes, which meant Seven Skull Shield had to be very, very careful. He kept his face as placid and calm as he could and truthfully said, “I can see what you’re thinking. When the Quiz Quiz and I went at it in that narrow passage he didn’t have any box with him. Just a long chipped-stone knife. It was just him, me, and Farts here. And by the time we were done, a whole pile of witnesses. Someone would have noticed a box.”

  “And you’re sure the Keeper didn’t send someone else after the box?” Flat Stone Pipe asked.