People of the Earth (68 page)

 
          
 
"I know what it feels like to lose
someone you love." She reached up to flip her long hair over one shoulder.
"My mother died first. Then my father. Both of my brothers. Finally, my
husband—the man I loved more than life." She tipped back her head to stare
up at those stars bright enough to defeat the moonlight. "He's there,
somewhere—I hope."

 
          
 
"You hope?"

 
          
 
She nodded, moonlight spilling on her
heart-shaped face. "He married me five days before he went off to raid the
Broken Stones." She touched each of the fingers on one hand, as if
counting the days.

 
          
 
"He never came back." A wistful note
filled her voice. "For a long time I didn't know what had happened to him,
just that he'd been killed. One Man finally told me. He'd been
foolish—disobeyed the war leader and rushed out into the middle of the Broken
Stones." She shook her head. "He was young. Maybe he thought it was
more important that he make a name for himself. If his courage had sent the
Broken Stones running, he would have come back a great man.

 
          
 
"As it was ..." She hesitated.
"One Man and the others watched the Broken Stones butcher his body."
Her lips pinched as she stared at the stars. "That's why I hope he's there
. . . that his soul made it up to where Thunderbird could carry him to the Camp
of the Dead."

 
          
 
“I didn't know that." Wind Runner shifted
uncomfortably.

 
          
 
“You don't worry much about other
people."

 
          
 
He gave her a sharp glance. "I
don't?"

 
          
 
“No. But that's all right ... for a while.
What you lost is fresh in your memory. And you need time to heal the wounds in
your soul."

 
          
 
He snorted displeasure. “You seem to know a
lot about me.

 
          
 
“I do," she replied evenly. “I’ve spent a
lot of time watching you, wondering about you."

 
          
 
“I'd think you had better things to do."

 
          
 
She lifted one knee and propped her chin. “I
think a man— a White Clay warrior of your age—who could talk the Black Point
into coming this far south is worth considerable study. I want to know who you
are and what your leading us here means to my people. I've listened carefully.
The clan is trapped—and you offer a way out."

 
          
 
He looked back to the north. “Nothing will
stop the clans. The Sun People are moving like starved coyotes. It's better to
lead than to be snapping in the pack. The White Clay tried snapping back at the
pack." He pointed. “And there they are. Walk down there, if you wish. The
bones will speak to you."

 
          
 
“Not the same way they do to you."

 
          
 
He nodded. “You say that I don't think much
about people, but you're wrong." His voice went hollow. “I think about
them all the time. I think about the ones whose bones lie down there. I think
about my White Clay family. They, too, are dead—like yours. You have a
grandfather. I have an uncle—and yes, he's still my uncle. Adoption by the
Black Point doesn't change that. He and I have a bond deeper than
kinship."

 
          
 
She watched him with large, dark eyes as he
continued. “Then I saw the Hollow Flute, saw the haunted look in their eyes—and
knew it so well. I've seen that look too many times."

           
 
Aspen gazed thoughtfully at the sheltered cove
under the ridge. Starlight danced in the curved hollows. "I understand you
better now. You've been a driven man since you first came among us. The risks
you took bothered me. The Power of your speech in the council worried me. Were
you truly concerned about the Black Point? Or were you willing to destroy yourself
to lead us into disaster?" Her dark eyes burned into his. "Perhaps
you would do anything to avenge the attack the Black Point made on the White
Clay camp years ago. Maybe you blamed us for everything. People often have
strange reasons for doing what they do."

 
          
 
"Everything has changed. I don't know
exactly when it happened. Maybe it was the day the Black Point raided the White
Clay on the Fat Beaver. Maybe it was when I said good-bye to White Ash. Maybe
the clans are the cause of it, or Thunderbird, or the Sun. But the whole world
tipped sideways. That green fire in the sky was a sign. Things will never be as
they were before."

 
          
 
"No, they won't. You say that when we
cross those mountains, we will have to learn a new way of living. What does
that mean for the clan? What will become of us? Who will we be?"

 
          
 
"Whoever we make ourselves." He
closed his eyes and searched his soul, seeking White Ash. Her memory had driven
him to speak so strongly during the council. Could he admit that? And now? He
searched his soul for her presence—and found nothing.

 
          
 
Aspen
nodded to the dead camp under the ridge.
"I hear your ghosts, Wind Runner." She rose to stand before him.
"And I believe I have answered many of the questions I had about you. I'll
follow you. I think you will be a great leader."

 
          
 
He gestured absently. "I don't want to be
a great leader, only to avoid the mistakes of the past."

 
          
 
She placed a light hand on his shoulder.
"That is why you will become a great leader."

 
          
 
For a long moment he looked into her eyes.
Then he said, "It won't be easy. I don't know what waits for us beyond the
Sideways
Mountains
. The Earth clans may have more Power than
we expect."

           
 
"Many among us have already started to
worry about that—and about you." She looked over her shoulder at the
silent valley. "Several people have come to ask my opinion of you. Now I
know what to tell them."

 
          
 
"Is that why you've been watching
me?"

 
          
 
"In part. It also served my purposes. The
warriors looking for a wife weren't as persistent when they thought I had eyes
only for you. I haven't found the right man yet. My husband . . . Well, I loved
him until my heart ached."

 
          
 
"You don't speak his name."

 
          
 
"Nor will I. That's a thing for my
soul."

 
          
 
He clasped his hands and leaned on his knees.
"I've heard the Traders say that among other peoples it's considered a
terrible thing to speak the name of the dead. They think it's bad luck, that it
will bring the ghost back to haunt them. Or sometimes they save the name and
give it to an infant who has proved his soul clings to his body. They say that
it's the soul of the dead person born again into a new life."

 
          
 
"In your heart do you believe you will
see White Ash again?"

 
          
 
He took a deep breath. "This afternoon,
when we made camp, the thought came to me that if I walked up here, stood where
I stood that night, maybe I'd know. Here, before you came, I was with her.
Reliving that last night." He stared up at the moon. "All I feel now
is . . . empty."

 
          
 
She tipped her chin to the twinkling blanket
of stars. "Had I known, I wouldn't have interrupted you. Forgive me."

 
          
 
He shrugged and got to his feet, taking one
last look into the sheltered valley. "It's all right. For me, at least,
the ghosts can rest easier. Perhaps tonight is an ending—and tomorrow will be
the birth of something new."

 
          
 
Still Water sat thoughtfully on their robe,
the Wolf Bundle cradled in his hand. They'd camped in a rock overhang barely
big enough to hold them and their small fire. The rain cascaded from the sodden
skies to batter itself on the rocks.

           
 
Lightning flashed, cracked, and boomed over
the
Wind
Basin
to the south.

 
          
 
White Ash watched him with pensive eyes. The
fire popped and she reached back to the packrat
midden
for another stick to drop on the coals. The Wolf Bundle sent shivers up and
down her spine. She could feel the Power. It pulled at her, drew her. She
longed to reach out and touch it—except that some caution deep in her soul
warned against it. The sensations increased when she closed her eyes, the Bundle's
pulsing Power playing around her Dreams, eternally there like tracks in
sun-baked mud.

 
          
 
Why does it call to me so? What makes me so
nervous and unsettled when Still Water has the Bundle out? What's its purpose?
Why did First Man tell me to seek it? Now I wish we d let Left Hand take it
with him.

 
          
 
Except she could see Still Water's
preoccupation with the Wolf People's sacred object.

 
          
 
"You have a sad look in your eyes,"
she told him.

 
          
 
He tried to smile, but it died on his lips.
"I was thinking about Left Hand—and the debt I owe him. How funny. Part of
my soul went into the making of that necklace." He gazed out into the
dreary rain. "That necklace was very special to me. Power plays tricks on
us. I thought it was a puzzle—you know, how could a fish's teeth turn to stone?
And I treasured it because Left Hand gave it to me in friendship—even though he
knew I could give him nothing in return at the time."

 
          
 
"Bad Belly, don't. It's not your fault.
Guilt—"

 
          
 
"No, not guilt." He turned sad eyes
on her. "Power did what it did, not me. No, it's the necklace that bothers
me. When a person cherishes something, and works on it, a part of his soul goes
into it." He gave a perplexed grunt, fixing his attention on the Wolf
Bundle again. "I could almost believe I had to give it up to get the Wolf
Bundle—and you."

 
          
 
Still Water continued to turn the Wolf Bundle
in his hand.

 
          
 
"Maybe you did. If that's all Power costs
you, you'll be a very lucky man." She glanced out at the gray clouds. They
packed around the overhang in misty streamers that sifted through the limber
pine and juniper. Tiny balls of hail pattered on the water-darkened rocks
beyond the drip line. She shivered and puffed a breath that condensed and
vanished in the cold, wet air.