He vanished in a flash that left afterimages burning on the backs of her eyes. She had seen it, hadn’t she? A sort of lightning flash that blinded. A burning streak of brilliance that shot instantly into the image of the Morning Star drawn upon the stone wall.
The cavern once again pitched into stygian black.
“That was miraculous,” she whispered.
“What was?” Fire Cat asked, voice strained with anxiety.
“The Morning Star. Freed of the cocoon. The way he touched the heads of the corpses and liberated the body souls to enter the drawings.” She pointed with her free hand. “Did you see how he vanished back into the stone? Reanimated his image on the wall?”
Fire Cat’s long pause irritated her.
“Is that the choice he made? Rather than return to the world, to vanish back into the stone itself?” She fought sudden tears. “Then what was our purpose in coming here?”
The pause was awkward this time—and just long enough she was about to snap at him when he said, “Lady, with all respect, I haven’t seen anything since that last torch burned out. I’ve been following faithfully behind you. I trust that with your Power, you actually saw these threads of light and cocoon you talk about. But in this constant blackness, I couldn’t have seen the Morning Star if he were pressing against me.”
“But he was just…” She frowned and shook her head.
“Yes, Lady. I’m sure he was. Please. Drink the rest of the water. You will feel so much better.”
“You saw nothing?”
“No, Lady.”
“What does it matter,” she replied wearily. “Even if we haven’t saved the Morning Star, let us hope that we can still save ourselves.”
Fifty-eight
The chance had always existed that it could end like this. Winder stared around the Evening Star Town Plaza and the crowd that had assembled to stare at him and the Quiz Quiz prisoners. Word had passed that these were the barbarian warriors who had dared to kidnap Keeper Blue Heron. From the looks Winder and the Quiz Quiz were getting from the crowd, he had no doubt that if the guarding warriors turned their backs, things would get ugly in a hurry.
The Evening Star warriors had made no bones about the fact that Winder and his companions were bound for hideous death in the squares, so maybe the tender mercies of the mob might be a far better and faster—if just as brutal—fate.
That was the risk Winder had taken in his given profession—what justified the exorbitant Trade he asked in return for his services. Risky ventures demanded remarkable Trade in return. Winder had made both reputation and fortune by accepting that if anything went wrong, he would pay with his life in a most agonizing way.
Oddly, the risks had been growing fewer and less dangerous as his fame spread on the southern rivers—especially as a broker of communication between enemies and a negotiator for ransom and diplomacy between hostile parties. High chiefs knew that he was a spy, but also an honest agent for those whom he represented. As a known quantity, the risk of misunderstanding had been significantly ameliorated.
How ironic, then, that he should find himself in such dire straits, and not at the hands of some petty barbarian chief up a minor tributary of the Tenasee, but in Cahokia, the great city of his youth. Nor had the manner of his capture been through treachery at a feast, as he’d always imagined it would be. Instead, he’d been cunningly trapped—caught in the act of attacking one of the highest-ranking Four Winds Clan elders alive.
Was I so arrogant and proud that I missed the signs? Did I bait Power to believe that I was so assured of my invincibility and success that it had to bring me down in such a manner?
Winder chuckled to himself, amused at his hubris, as he tested the bonds that bound his wrists and feet. One of the most humiliating events of his life had been the walk back down the Avenue of the Sun, tied in line with the rest of the Quiz Quiz captives, looking for all the world like an incompetent fool. The worst part had been the jeers and catcalls from the spectators and passersby.
Winder had never feared death. Public humiliation, however, was beyond his tolerance.
“And I was brought down by good old Skull of all people?” Again, that had to be the hand of Power smacking him down. Nothing else could explain his old friend’s involvement in Winder’s complete destruction. The joke was that he had left Cahokia to avoid just such an end.
Now here he was.
I should never have come back here.
Most of the huddled Quiz Quiz stared at their bonds and just mumbled to themselves, blaming their disaster on the stolen War Medicine box. When the Surveyors’ Bundle and the War Medicine had been lost, they muttered, they should have left, allowing Sky Star to pay the price for their failure.
But I couldn’t let it end at that. No, I had to push it. My fault. All my fault.
And Skull’s, of course.
Even as he thought it, he saw Skull come ambling down the long staircase that led up to Evening Star House’s high palace on the plaza’s northern side. His old friend’s blocky face looked thoughtful, maybe even sad. Even the ugly brindle dog that padded at Skull’s heels looked dejected.
Winder watched his old friend walk up, nod to the squadron first in charge of the guarding warriors, and then settle himself on the packed clay just beyond Winder’s reach. Skull pulled up his knees, clasping his arms around them as he studied Winder.
“I was just thinking about you,” Winder began. “About the old days. About how Power must be laughing, using you to bring me down. Odd, isn’t it? Remember the time I distracted that Panther Clan bunch? They’d caught you stealing a pot of corn from their storage pit. As I recall, they were going to beat you to death and leave your corpse hung from the guardian post out front as a deterrent for anyone who might have similar ideas regarding their oh-so-precious corn.”
Skull smiled. “Wasn’t the only time. Remember when that bunch of bigger boys at the canoe landing took our blankets? Then we took them back when they weren’t looking?”
Winder nodded. “Wasn’t particularly bright of us, going back to the same old abandoned building for the night. They almost beat us back there.”
“And you told them you’d taken the blankets back by yourself. That I wasn’t even part of it. I never forgot that.”
“Didn’t do much good.” Winder shrugged. “They still smacked us both around. Took weeks for the bruises to heal.
“Without blankets we had to sleep in the corner of that old house huddled together like field mice. Just you and me. In the middle of the winter. Couldn’t get a good night’s sleep.”
Skull’s features turned amiable. “Every time I’d drift off, you’d shiver so hard I’d be wide awake with my eyeballs vibrating.”
“Me? You were the one shivering. Wasn’t much more to you than skin and thin bones. I at least had a little fat around my belly to keep me warm.”
“Blessed little, if I recall.” Skull reached out to pet the dog when it dropped beside him and exhaled with a huff. “Seems to me I remember a permanent hollow running from your ribs down to your navel in those days.”
“Always hungry, weren’t we?” Winder shook his head. “Remember the year we got away with that roasted goose on the winter solstice? Stole it right off the fire.”
“Had to toss it back and forth between us as we ran. It was too hot to hold for more than a heartbeat without blistering our fingers.”
“The thing spent more time in the air than when it was alive and flying.”
“But neither one of us dropped it,” Skull reminded with a pointed finger. “It was too rotted precious for that. And it was mostly cooled to the touch by the time we got to that sheltered niche between the warehouses.”
“I think that was the finest meal of my life,” Winder said wistfully. “That whole goose! I can still taste the grease dribbling down around my tongue. Smell that steaming fragrance. Remember how it chewed as I pulled the meat from the bone.”
“No high chief ate better than we did
that day. You were grinning so hard I thought your mouth would get stuck like that, and you’d go through life looking like an idiot.”
“Never! Look like an idiot? I left that sort of thing to you.”
Skull chuckled. “I suppose you did.” A pause. “A long time ago.”
“A very long time ago.” Winder’s gut went bittersweet. “I suppose, if I had to meet this end, it is fitting that it’s you who brought me to it rather than some stranger. Facing one’s death is something best done at the hands of friends. They, at least, know you for who you are. With strangers it can be so callous, a matter of simple business. Not only have they no clue as to who you are, they could not care less.”
“Never thought of it that way.’
“Skull? I would ask you for something, though. I don’t want you to come after they hang me in the square.”
Skull’s gaze hardened, almost turning brittle.
At his silence, Winder added, “I don’t want you to see me like that. Remember me instead as that boy you shared the solstice goose with. Remember the smiles we had that day, and the grease that ran down our chins. Or how we took care of each other.” His jaws clenched, and he added, “Better than brothers, eh?”
Skull looked away, lips pursed as he petted his dog. “If it had been anyone but Blue Heron…” He made a face. “Why didn’t you leave that day when I asked you to?”
“Too much at stake.” Winder gestured with his bound hands. “It was always the longest odds that paid the best. I had a reputation to maintain. You get a taste for that life, for being a big man, an important personage, especially after where you and I came from. Those who do not dare, never eat solstice goose. Nor, if they are great men, do they become even greater men.”
“Beating Blue Heron like you did…” Skull gestured futility and looked away.
“I didn’t know she was your friend. Nor was that my doing. I stopped the Quiz Quiz who was kicking her to death. Tell her that I’m sorry.”
“Won’t make any difference.” Skull worked his strong fingers, watching the tendons flex. “But for that I might have been able to work something out. Maybe just a banishment, arguing that you were only hired. That you didn’t have a choice.”
Winder laughed. “But I did, Skull. And you know it. I gambled that I could save it all, get the War Medicine back and get away with the Quiz Quiz. Instead, well, Power had other interests.”
“Hey!” Flat Stone Pipe shouted from the palace staircase. “Thief! They want you inside.”
“Be right there,” Skull called, rising to his feet. To Winder, he said, “I give you my word, old friend. I won’t come to see you hanging in the square. After what you’ve done, they’ll make sure it will be long and painful. I don’t think I could stand that.” He hesitated, whispering, “Better than brothers.”
“Good. And Skull, if you’d remember anything about me, do it anytime you eat roast goose, all right?”
Skull’s face was working in that old familiar way that it did when he was fighting with himself. Instead of words, he just gave a quick nod of the head, and then strode off for the stairs, where the dwarf waited.
It was the dog that paused, looked back over its shoulders, and fixed the odd blue and brown eyes on Winder. The beast seemed to be considering, judging Winder’s soul.
“Take care of him, dog.”
The beast cocked its ears, then with a parting glance, raced after the burly thief as he started up the stairs.
“Farewell, old friend,” Winder whispered softly.
Fifty-nine
People stood frozen, gaping and wide-eyed, as they stared at Tonka’tzi Wind where she perched imperiously on the Morning Star’s high dais with its panther-hide covering. The shocked quiet was that of the tomb.
She had to seize the moment now. Before they could react. Or think.
“I am Tonka’tzi Wind, and I will have order.” She pointed to the appalled old lop-jawed warrior. “War Leader Five Fists. You will enforce order. The first person who acts out of turn will be removed from this room. If they protest, you will use your war club to break his or her jaw. Am I understood?”
Five Fists expression was incredulous as he pushed his way clear of the stunned crowd, shouting, “Yes, Tonka’tzi!”
“Are my orders clear?” she demanded, shooting her gaze from face to face.
Around the room, heads bobbed uncertainly.
“But sitting on the Morning Star’s chair?” Lord East Water cried. “That’s sacrilege!”
“War Leader Five Fists”—she pointed—“remove that man.”
“Yes, Tonka’tzi.”
And quick as a snap—at Five Fists’ nod—two of his warriors took East Water by the arms and hustled him to the doors before pitching him out. Idly Wind wondered what Rising Flame would say when she learned her father had been so summarily expelled.
“Now,” she said, leaning forward. “We teeter on the knife’s sharp edge of disaster.”
Green Chunkey stepped forward, doing her the courtesy of touching his chin. “With respect, Tonka’tzi, the Morning Star is dying. Whatever happened with Lady Night Shadow Star and her journey to the Underworld, it was obviously a failure. Just before your arrival I was in there, saw his body. Even Rides-the-Lightning has given up hope.”
Wolverine stepped up to the man’s side, touching his chin and saying, “Tonka’tzi, it is past time to fortify the Morning Star’s palace. My squadron is positioning itself to take control of the situation here as we speak.”
“You will not,” Green Chunkey said bitterly. “Once your people have control … No, I absolutely refuse. You will not—”
“Silence,” Wind barked, pointing hard at both of them. To her relief, they obeyed. “If anyone moves on this palace, that crowd out there will take matters into their own hands.”
“With respect”—Wolverine barely hid his annoyance—“that squadron out there is just back from Red Wing Town. My best veterans. The idea of a crowd of unarmed, undisciplined dirt farmers standing against the authority of any Four Winds squadron, let alone mine—”
“That mass of humanity out there doesn’t give a louse’s leg about your authority,” Wind rebutted harshly. “Set them off and they’ll crush your warriors through their very weight. They are out there—ten thousand strong—out of concern for their god. That is their only concern: whether the Morning Star lives or dies. They could not care less about any show of strength. In fact, all it would take is a warrior shoving the wrong person, and like a spark from a fire, their passion will burn so free and hot it will consume us all. Until only ruin is left.”
Wolverine said, “I don’t think you understand—”
“Do you understand the meaning behind irresistible, relentless, mindless, and invincible? If we do something to set them off, they will come as a flood!”
“Tonka’tzi.” Slender Fox took a position beside her brother. “Whether the Morning Star lives or dies, we have to make a change. The Morning Star House allowed the assassin to ply her poisons. They put us into this situation. I know you are biased toward them, are one of them, but as tonka’tzi you now must serve all of Cahokia.”
Slender Fox turned, facing the rest of the room. “So consider this: My brother, Sliding Ice, is preparing himself, cleansing his body and purifying his souls. He is ready—the moment the Morning Star dies—to offer his body as a new home to the Spirit hero of the Beginning Times. There is your answer to the dilemma. A rapid resurrection of the Morning Star. A new home for the living god. We need not even wait until a tomb is built for Chunkey Boy’s body.”
“And why should it be a North Star House body?” Green Chunkey demanded. “You and Wolverine assume too much!”
Shouts broke out, Wind bellowing, “Silence!”
This time, to her surprise, it took Five Fists pitching into them with the handle of his war club to bring order.
And he’d no sooner done so than a messenger bearing a staff of office was passed through by the guard at
the door. Working his way through the press to the fire, he blinked, confused at the sight of Wind on the high dais. Then, as if pulling himself together, he knelt before Green Chunkey to announce, “High Chief, it is my honor to report that our two squadrons have arrived at the Great Plaza. Squadron First Split Snake reports resistance from the crowd. They refuse to give way to allow our warriors to proceed to the palace. The squadron first asks your permission to move them, High Chief.”
“Move them,” Green Chunkey said sourly as he glared at Wolverine.
“No!” Wind barked, fear pumping with each beat of her heart. “Do that, and we’ll all die!”
“Tonka’tzi,” Green Chunkey told her, “I will not leave my squadrons to the south while Wolverine holds this ground.” He looked around. “North Star House essentially holds us all as hostage. Consider, Lords: All he needs to do is issue an order, and we are his prisoners. He will hold us while Sliding Ice offers his body to become host of the living god! North Star House will have taken all of Cahokia!”
“You piece of fat shit,” Slender Fox told him as she thrust a finger into his face. “While you’ve lived on the wealth of southern colonies, we’ve been holding the north, battling the Red Wing and their forest barbarians! While you’ve prospered, we’ve paid the price in dead relatives and war. And what has it earned us? Strength, you overstuffed cutworm. And now North Star House claims its reward.”
Green Chunkey ducked awkwardly around her finger, gesturing to his messenger, as he said, “Order my squadrons forward. No matter what the cost!”
“No!” Wind thundered again. “Five Fists, stop that man!”
The lop-jawed warrior made a gesture, and one of his warriors—pale-faced and scared—laid a hand on the messenger’s arm.
“You sure you want to do this?” Green Chunkey asked, cunning eyes on Wind. “Let him go, or by Piasa’s balls, there’s no stepping back from this.”
“High Chief,” Five Fists said reasonably, “it is the tonka’tzi’s order for the moment. And she is the tonka’tzi.”
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