Bone Walker: Book III of the Anasazi Mysteries (25 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Bone Walker: Book III of the Anasazi Mysteries
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“I say this prophet offered them some foul bargain. A trick no doubt, manufactured for the moment, but Stone Ghost took it in the hope that he could save the Katsinas’ People from our wrath.” The voice belonged to an old man; it was deep and frail.
Browser stilled his breathing to hear better. Catkin had clutched her war club so tightly her hand shook.
“Their false gods are dying, and they are desperate to save them by any means necessary,” the old man finished.
“Why would Browser care?” Rain Crow asked. “He only joined the Katsinas’ People because his demented wife did. You heard the stories about her, didn’t you? That she was a monster? Browser killed her himself to save his lover, Catkin.”
Catkin stiffened, and Browser placed a restraining hand on her forearm. Beneath her cool skin, hardened muscles rippled.
“I don’t understand this,” Blue Corn returned. “What could the Fire Dogs have offered either Browser or Stone Ghost that would have turned them against us? The Fire Dogs have been our enemies since the beginning of time. Browser made his reputation from the daring raids he carried out against them. Why would he side with them?”
“His nerve is broken,” the old man said. “It happens. As Rain Crow said, he had to kill his own wife in the service of false gods. Perhaps that was when his blood turned to water.”
Browser shifted uncomfortably. Is that what people thought of him? That he was a coward?
“I disagree. The man I saw stand between the Fire Dogs and my warriors had more than water for blood, Elder,” Rain Crow said.
“It makes no difference,” the old man stated firmly. “He and his Fire Dog friends shall die in Straight Path Canyon tomorrow.”
“You’re sure we have them boxed?” Blue Corn asked.
“Every high point is guarded. They cannot pass without our scouts seeing them. After that, it is only a matter of hunting them down.”
“I left half my forces to guard the Katsinas’ People. I hope we—”
“They will be docile,” the old man said. “Cloudblower is a peacemaker.”
“Yes,” Blue Corn said. “That is how she’s keeping the katsina heresy alive. Not only is she
kokwimu,
a sacred man-woman, but her knowledge of Healing has elevated her status among many of the clans. She goes everywhere to Heal, even to her enemies. People who would normally think ill of the katsinas think highly of Cloudblower.”
Fabric rustled, and the old man said, “Then she must never leave Flowing Waters Town. My people will deal with her when the time comes. No one will know.”
Browser’s heart thudded in his chest. He had to get Cloudblower out of there!
“No one will know, except you, me, and Rain Crow,” Blue Corn answered suspiciously.
“You have nothing to fear from my Flute Player warriors,” the old man said. “We save our venom for the false believers.”
“Just make sure where you inject it,” Rain Crow warned. “If the stories are correct, and First People do still walk the land, you may wish to save as much of your venom as you can for them.”
“The White Moccasins are a myth conjured by the Katsinas’ People to frighten us,” the old man said.
“What of the wealth they say they found in Two Hearts’s cave? All that turquoise? The copper beads? The shell?” Blue Corn asked. “Did the Katsinas’ People just conjure that up as well?”
“So they found some graves and robbed them.”
“I would not discount the stories,” Blue Corn answered. “It would explain a great many things that have happened over the past few sun cycles. Elder, you and I both know that your warriors did not destroy Aspen village. I sent scouts to check the veracity of the claims. They climbed into the kiva—and saw the bodies. Your men didn’t do that.”
“No. But that’s not to say the Katsinas’ People didn’t destroy Aspen village. It is just as logical to suggest that Matron Eagle Hunter and her people threw out the katsinas. Flame Carrier couldn’t allow that to happen, not with people turning back to the Flute Player and the Blue God, so Flame Carrier and her warriors attacked Aspen village. They were greeted as friends, and turned on their hosts. Perhaps Matron Flame Carrier was killed in the fighting. Perhaps that’s where Browser received his wounds. Perhaps this whole story of the burned kiva at Longtail village is the desperate work of the Katsinas’ People trying to keep the last of their ‘believers’ from returning to the old gods.”
Browser’s grip tightened on his war club, every muscle in his body charged. He had half risen when Catkin pulled him down into the shadows.
Blue Corn’s disdainful voice returned. “I am no fool, Horned Ram. I sent warriors to Longtail village, too. The tower kiva and the rest of the town was burned to the ground.”
Catkin’s grip on his arm turned brutal; she pointed.
He followed her finger to the dark shapes that emerged from the far doorway, their hands clutching weapons.
Blue Corn’s next words caught him off guard when she said, “My people tell me that Browser’s story is correct. The bodies at Aspen village were headless, and the meat had been stripped from the bones.” She made a tsking sound. “No, say what you will about Browser. Rain Crow and I know him. No matter what he believes—and I’m still not sure that he really believes in the katsinas—Browser wouldn’t defile the dead. He’s a man of honor.”
“Bah!” the old man spat. “What is this? One would almost believe you were on this Browser’s side! Are you forgetting that his people murdered your young warrior, White Spark, the night they slipped away like cowardly dogs?”
Browser stared at Catkin and she shook her head in confusion. A warrior was killed the night they left?
“We’re not forgetting anything,” Rain Crow answered. “I intend to find Browser, and his Mogollon allies, and when I do, I will kill them. But we must deal with one problem at a time. After that, if the White Moccasins are really out there, I shall deal with them, too.”
“Good,” the old man growled with satisfaction. “Now, come, let us eat. This stew looks good and smells even better. In a half-hand of time, the moon will rise and we can walk to the canyon rim. If they’re camped down there, we should be able to spot their
fires. Who knows? By sunrise, we may have killed them all.”
Browser glanced around, seeing the warriors who had begun to gather in the plaza. They had huddled together on the south side, talking among themselves. Waiting.
Browser took Catkin’s hand and eased slowly onto the kiva roof. Sticking close to the wall, he snaked his way across and then scuttled along the base of the wall.
The only thing in their favor was that the Flute Player warriors considered themselves the hunters. Betting his life on that fact, Browser quietly lifted Catkin to the abutment, and followed her over the wall into the night beyond.
 
 
“DOESN’T THAT HURT?” Stone Ghost asked.
Bone Walker pounded her chest with her fist again, as if to show him that it didn’t, and rolled onto her back on the old willow-twig mat.
Stone Ghost leaned against the wall. Through the gap in the roof he could see Evening People gleaming. The scents of night, of cold stone and earth, blew around him, fanning the red coals in his warming bowl.
Bone Walker drew up her knees, crossed her legs, and started kicking one foot.
Stone Ghost said, “The Evening People are beautiful, aren’t they?”
She looked up and seemed to be trying to decide. “Do they have breath-heart souls?”
Stone Ghost’s bushy white brows lowered. “That’s a good question. They don’t have human bodies any longer, so I don’t think they need breath-heart souls to keep their lungs working and their hearts beating.”
“Maybe they have Spirit hearts that need to beat.”
“Yes, that’s possible.”
Bone Walker pounded her chest again, hard.
Stone Ghost winced. “I think I heard your ribs crack.”
She tipped her head back to see him, and tangled black hair spread around her. “My breath-heart soul hurts. Like it’s turning to rock.”
“Is that why you keep hitting yourself? To make it stop hurting?”
She nodded and looked back at the Evening People again. They twinkled like frost crystals strewn across a soft buffalo robe.
He said, “Well, child, the soul is the place where the heart suffers. I’m not surprised you hurt.”
Stone Ghost studied the little girl, wondering what had happened that made her hurt so much inside. Was it just the beatings her grandfather had given her for running away, or something more?
Bone Walker blinked at the Evening People.
“Would you like to hear a story about a heart?”
She sucked her lower lip for a time, then nodded.
Stone Ghost smiled, and said, “There was once a very powerful holy man, named Dune the Derelict. One day, a young man came to him and begged Dune to teach him how to be a great Singer, so that he could help his people. Dune eyed the young man suspiciously and said, ‘So, you want to be a great Singer, do you? Do you know how much work it takes?’ The young man assured him he was willing to study very hard. He told Dune he would do anything Dune asked him to. So Dune said, ‘Good. Let’s play hide-and-seek.’”
Stone Ghost clapped his hands together, and Bone Walker scrambled onto her stomach to watch him more closely, as though she feared he might leap upon her and gobble her up.
He whispered, “What the young man did not know was that Dune had a magical yucca hoop hidden behind
his back. Dune jumped through the yucca hoop and disappeared.”
Bone Walker stopped sucking her lip and stared at Stone Ghost. “What did the young man do?”
“Well, he tried to find Dune. He looked everywhere, under rocks, on top of cliffs, he crawled around on his belly searching the grains of sand, but he couldn’t find Dune anywhere.”
Bone Walker frowned. “What happened? Did he go home?”
“No. The young man finally fell on the ground, kicked his heels, and shouted, ‘This isn’t fair! I came here to learn to be holy, and you vanished without teaching me a thing!’”
Stone Ghost clapped his hands again, and Bone Walker jumped.
He said, “Right at that instant, Dune reappeared. The young man was astounded. He said, ‘Where were you? I looked everywhere for you!’
“Dune said, ‘I was hiding in your heart. If you don’t search your own heart first, what kind of a Singer will you be?’”
Bone Walker smiled, and it was like Father Sun breaking through black clouds. Her eyes glistened. “I like that story.”
“Do you know what the young man’s name was?”
“No, what?”
“His name was Buckthorn, but later on Dune gave him a new name. He called him Poor Singer.”
Bone Walker’s eyes widened. “Poor Singer! My great-great-grandfather was the son of the Blessed Cornsilk! I know many stories about Poor Singer, but I’ve never heard that one.”
“Well, now you have.”
Stone Ghost smiled, but blood had started to surge in his ears. He examined the triangular shape of her face, her full lips and midnight eyes.
She’s one of the
First People, and she knows it. Who would have risked telling her?
Bone Walker tugged at Stone Ghost’s turkey-feather cape. “Do you know more stories about the Blessed Poor Singer?”
“Oh, many more. Let me see. Did you know that Poor Singer carried a pebble under his tongue for several sun cycles? Have you heard that story?”
Bone Walker lifted herself on her elbows and propped her chin on her palms. “No. Why did he do that? Didn’t he get dirt in his mouth?”
“Well, probably. But he did it because Dune told him that if he didn’t stop waggling his tongue he’d never be able to hear the divine musician.”
Bone Walker cocked her head. “The what?”
“The divine musician. But let’s start at the beginning. Let me see …” Stone Ghost rubbed his wrinkled chin and pretended to be thinking as he asked, “By the way, who was the man you saw a few hours ago?”
“Man?” Bone Walker frowned.
“Yes, when my nephew came into the room, you said you saw someone who was lost and had big eyes.”
Bone Walker flattened herself on the floor and rested her chin on her hands. “That was an owl.”
“Oh,” Stone Ghost answered as though that made everything clear. “I see. Is Owl your Spirit Helper?”
Bone Walker thoughtfully poked at a hole in her blue sleeve. “He tries to help me.”
“Well, that’s good. Owls are very Powerful Spirit Helpers, child. Listen to him.”
Bone Walker appeared to be concentrating on a strange taste at the back of her throat.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Rocks have souls. Did it hurt when the pebble clacked on Poor Singer’s teeth?”
“Ah.” Stone Ghost lifted a finger. “You are already looking in your own heart to find answers. Good girl. Well, let me tell you the whole story. Are you ready?”

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