People of the Morning Star (57 page)

“Go!” Bead ordered the rest of his warriors. “Check the rooms in back. See if that nasty little dwarf is here.”

They just stared at him. He made a deprecating wave of the hand. “I’m getting ahead of myself, silly me.” Then he barked out a series of commands in the guttural tongue that Columella recognized as Caddo. The warriors sprang like foxes, searching the rear. Meanwhile her hands were tied behind her, and she was seated on the bench with her ankles bound to one of the support posts.

High Dance stood impotently, his hands hanging. Disbelief and amazement filled his face as two warriors escorted him over and shoved him down beside her.

Enraged and terrified, she watched Bead climb lazily onto her litter and seat himself insolently, one leg dangling off the side.

She just glared, sputtering, until she could say, “Tell me that there are no more of them. That the warriors I see here are all of his company.”

“All but one that I’ve seen,” High Dance croaked.

“Good. Then it’s just a matter of time before Brown Bear or one of his seconds checks on us.”

“Brown Bear’s dead.” He swallowed hard. “I … I…”

She felt her gut heave. “Rot take you,
say it
!”

“I dismissed the warriors.”

She closed her eyes, a terrible emptiness hollowing her gut.

Bead’s warriors were filing out of her bedroom, shaking their heads as they reported.

“Who
are
you?” she demanded of Bead, determined to be the Matron no matter what.

Bead gestured for a piece of cloth, and began scrubbing at his face. Brown, yellow, and black smeared on the fabric. Even before the familiar patterns were revealed, she gasped. “They said you were dead.”

Walking Smoke shot her a dismissive glance. “They’ve said a lot of things about me, cousin. Most of them, sad to say, are unfortunately true.”

She had almost formed a response when a litter was carried in the front door, across the mat floor, and placed in the rear of the room behind the dais.

As it passed, Columella blinked, recognizing Lace’s naked body where it lay lashed to the top. The woman looked as if she were in shock, her face pain-laced.

“But she’s … she’s
your sister
!”

Walking Smoke gave Lace a sleepy glance as he stood and stepped down from Columella’s dais. “Yes. More’s the pity.” He walked over and stared down at Columella, a blankness behind his eyes. “You … and she … can chew on that unpleasant fact while I go take a nap. It’s been a beast’s own night getting here, getting set up. Been awake for most of two days. I’m assuming your bed is comfortable enough for a good sleep?”

When she didn’t answer, he just chuckled, called an order to the Caddo warriors, and sauntered back through her door.

“What’s this about, High Dance?” she whispered miserably.

“I don’t know, sister. I really don’t.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Fifty-three

In the back of the Morning Star’s palace great room, Seven Skull Shield stood respectfully before one of the ornately carved benches. The poles had been artfully rendered as serpents by using the natural bends of the wood. Interlaced strips of hide had been woven across the frame and supported richly woven blankets and perfectly tanned hides. These either served to cushion someone’s seat, or covered a sleeper.

He wondered how many people were allowed to sleep in the Morning Star’s palace. He could see the slaves—including Fire Cat’s mother and two sisters—where they huddled on rugs in one corner. He suspected they weren’t allowed on the fancy bedding.

Fire Cat, standing beside him, glanced thankfully in their direction, obviously relieved to see them healthy and washed, and apparently not outwardly abused.

Must be agonizing to know that your once-exalted family is now someone’s property.
He glanced at the Red Wing, seeing the effort the man put into keeping his expression neutral.

Better to live like me.

He grinned to himself. The only responsibility he had was to keep his belly full, elude whatever pursuit was behind him, and avoid, at all costs, hanging in some lord’s square while his fellow rabble sliced and burned his body.

The Keeper, sitting to the left of the fire, had a hand to her breast as she slowly got her wind back. She’d insisted on making the climb herself. Not that Seven Skull Shield blamed her, he couldn’t imagine letting the porters carry
him
up that frightening stairway on some precariously bobbing litter.

Tonka’tzi
Wind also had seated herself on the west side of the great crackling fire in the center of the room. She had a huge copper headpiece tied into her gray hair and wore a rich-purple dress dotted with elk ivories. He figured that he could just about Trade that dress for an entire town in the southeast.

Night Shadow Star, in contrast, stood beside her aunt, arms crossed. A tan apron was suspended from a wide leather belt. Woven from the finest hemp, the piece hung below her knees in front and back. The sheer fabric swayed delicately as it caught the draft. She had thrown a cape of colorful parakeet feathers back over her shoulders, and her arms were crossed under her perfectly proportioned breasts. Instead of a head piece, she wore her hair loose, spilling down over the feathered cape to just above her belt. Her expression seemed distant, worried.

Seven Skull Shield let his gaze trace up and down her muscular legs, around the curve of her butt, and across her flat belly. He could imagine nuzzling between the full swell of her breasts …

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re nothing more than a rude, snuffling dog?” Fire Cat almost spat from the side of his mouth.

“You talking to me?”

“Keep some respect in your eyes when looking at Night Shadow Star, or I’ll pop them out of your head like hazelnuts from the shell. I won’t have a drooling wretch like you stripping her clothes off, even if it is only in your imagination.”

Seven Skull Shield chuckled. “And you’ll do this how?”

“When I deal with you, it won’t be in a shit-filled, dead-end passage.”

“Now I’m shivering with fear.” He bent his head closer. “What did they do? Slice open your sack and take your balls while you were hanging out there in the rain? I swear that woman might be any man’s Spirit Dream, to have been put together like that.”

He paused, seeing the anger flashing behind Fire Cat’s eyes. “Ah, but wait. You’d know all about her charms, wouldn’t you? Sitting there day by day, ‘guarding’ her from assassins and who knows what else.”

“That’s it,” Fire Cat hissed with finality. “You’re a dead man.”

Seven Skull Shield grinned, returning to his prior stance. “Thought you hated her.”

“Who, or how, I hate, is none of your concern, thief. From what I hear, though, I shouldn’t be surprised. The rumor is that you’d be satisfied to stick that tow rope of yours into anything moving, and if not, the closest charnel house will provide something equally satisfactory.”

He felt a cold chill run through him, eyes slitting. “You and me, Red Wing. Just as soon as opportunity permits.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. And in the meantime, keep your shit-slathered eyes off my lady.”

His lady?

At that moment the Morning Star walked out from his room in the back. As usual, he was resplendent. An immaculate white apron was hanging down between his knees. On it, embroidery depicted the Cahokian sun symbol in black thread. A falcon-feather cape hung from his shoulders. The magnificent headdress depicted
Hunga Ahuito,
with his two heads, perched on high.

With a gesture of his hand, Morning Star excused the recorders and advisors, waiting until they had filed out of the room, taking the servants and slaves with them.

Only when they were finally alone, the moaning of the wind in the thatch and the crackling of the fire the only sounds, did he mount his dais and seat himself in the high chair. His head remained fixed, eyes staring into the distance.

So, is he Chunkey Boy playing at being a god? Or is he really the Morning Star?

Seven Skull Shield cocked his head, studying the young man in the dazzling costume. He tried to see the jealous Chunkey Boy, his face twisted in rage as he beat a rival’s hand to pulp. Somehow that image didn’t conjure when compared to the ostentatious figure before him.

“What have you come to report?” Morning Star asked.

“The Piasa sends his greetings, Lord,” Night Shadow Star stated coldly as she stepped forward. “My souls have just returned from the Underworld. Piasa, Horned Serpent, and Snapping Turtle wish you to know that they are aligned with you against the threat that now seeks to destroy Cahokia and unhinge our world.”

“Why would they send me this message?” He barely flicked his eyes in Night Shadow Star’s direction.

“Because they do not wish the conflict between the Sky World and the Underworld to burn free among humans. In the Beginning Times,
Hunga Ahuito
separated the Powers of the three worlds for a reason. Should the barriers between the worlds be broken, Power from one called into the other, chaos would result. While the lords of the Underworld distrust you and the Powers of the Sky World, we face a mutual threat.”

“Have you determined the nature of this threat? Identified the individuals behind it?”

“I have,” she said crisply. “The one you banished, Lord Walking Smoke, has returned to Cahokia.”

Seven Skull Shield and Fire Cat both straightened, as did the rest of the room.
Tonka’tzi
Wind gasped. The Keeper bit off a curse.

The Morning Star, however, just seemed to smile, as if it were no news at all. A glint seemed to harden behind his narrowing eyes. “You say he’s back? Stirring mayhem, brewing trouble? But to what end?”

Night Shadow Star, her arms still crossed, brazenly walked into the sacred space between him and the fire, and stood hip-shot before him. The pose was defiant, and to Seven Skull Shield’s mind, incredibly provocative.

Her voice rang out. “He comes to destroy you, among other things. Not that that comes as any surprise after the assassinations. He comes to avenge himself on the Four Winds Clan.”

“He
is
Four Winds Clan,”
Tonka’tzi
Wind cried. “He’s my nephew!”

“He
killed
his father, your brother, and has tried to kill the rest of us.” Night Shadow Star barely shifted, only turning her head far enough to glance at her aunt. “He believes himself to be the Wild One. The reincarnation of Thrown Away Boy, the discarded twin who crawled out of Corn Woman’s afterbirth and, adventuring with his brother, went to war with his father and family.”

Blue Heron cried, “But that’s crazy! Walking Smoke? You’re telling me he’s the one who conspired with Right Hand to
kill
the Morning Star? By Horned Serpent’s shining scales, why? Surely not because Chunkey Boy surrendered his body to Morning Star. It was done willingly. And what would poor Lace have to do with the story? Why butcher her husband that way? Why abduct her? Why would he try to kill you, Night Shadow Star? You’re
his sister
!”

Night Shadow Star raised a muscular brown arm, hand out to stop her aunt. “Clan Keeper, a foul and black wind blows through his souls. He sees this world with different eyes than the rest us. Disembodied Spirit voices whisper and guide him, and he listens to them as declarations of truth. Under their sway, he remakes the world as the poisoned voices would have it.” She paused. “Do you understand? He is convinced he
is
the Wild One, the chaotic twin. He truly believes that the Wild One’s Power is his. And he is about to unleash it.”

“Unleash it how?”
Tonka’tzi
Wind asked. “We’re
hunting
him! It’s only a matter of time before we find him, run him down, and kill him for the diseased beast he is!”

“Where is Sun Wing?” Night Shadow Star asked softly, as if changing the conversation.

“She was sent a summons to be here like the rest of us,”
Tonka’tzi
Wind replied, looking around. “How should I know? Perhaps she’s distracted by her husband again?”

“She’s gone to her brother,” the Morning Star interjected, eyes fixed on the distance.

“Gone to him?” Blue Heron asked, cocking her head. “To Walking Smoke? Why?”

“Because he has offered her all of Cahokia if she will serve him.”

“That’s insane!”

“It is all insane,” Night Shadow Star said in a low voice. “The twisting of senses and thoughts by the winds and storms of perverted Power. Black and deceiving voices from other worlds whisper among our souls like stroking fingers. We are warped and bent, molded into the tools of a dark and destructive Power. Then we are made to serve. All the while our lost and frightened selves wish for nothing more than peace. To be left alone to nurse our fear and hide from the prying eyes of those who do not understand … and cannot conceive.”

At her words, a shiver ran down Seven Skull Shield’s back. Pus and blood, the woman sounded absolutely possessed.

“And you think Lord Walking Smoke is deceived by this evil Power that blows through him?”
Tonka’tzi
asked.