People of the Earth (95 page)

 
          
 
"Supposed to?" He waved at a night
insect that hovered around his face. "The Black Point killed him?"

 
          
 
He could feel her stare. "No.
Someone—maybe the real witch—murdered him at the Gathering. Bashed his head
in."

 
          
 
"Murder? At the Gathering?"

 
          
 
Her shoulders sagged. "I don't know why
... or who. Some evil is loose, Bad Belly. People fled in the night, tainted by
the abomination. Maybe it broke the Power of the Earth People and led to the
coming of the Black Point. I don't know. But I haven't felt safe since."

 
          
 
Still Water swallowed hard. White Ash still
sat in the lodge talking to Sage Ghost. Someone is killing all the Dreamers.

 
          
 
Almost without his conscious volition, his
feet took him back to her side.

 
          
 
White Ash stepped out into the cool evening.
In the distance, a pack of wolves howled to greet the night. She took a deep
breath of the dry air and savored the pungency of the desert. Behind her, the
sounds of camp—dogs whining, a baby crying, carefree voices, the clacking of
manos
on
metates
—soothed her. How
long had it been since she'd heard laughter? How long since gentle voices
murmured in the night?

 
          
 
Her arrival with Still Water had changed the
Black Point. Was I too young to realize that I changed the White Clay, tool She
thought back to the night Sage Ghost had brought her to the White Clay camp on
the Bug River. She'd been too frightened to realize much of anything except her
fear. And then she hadn't come as a Dreamer with a prophecy of doom.

 
          
 
In her soul she could feel the blackness to
the north. Two nights hence, she would face Brave Man. A sickening dread-mixed
with the pleasure of being back in a camp of the Sun People—tainted the joy of
seeing Sage Ghost, of finding Wind Runner alive. Still Water seemed hesitantly
happy to be with his sister again. Did Power play some subtle trick on them?
Give them a last glimpse of the people they would be fighting for?

 
          
 
Or had Power done this to give her another
grip on this world of illusion, another reason to come back to it besides her
love for Still
Watert
She filled her lungs, willing
peace into her soul.

 
          
 
Gingerly she tested the boundary of the One,
seeking to keep the subtle feathery touch at a distance. Even as she stood, she
could feel the Wolf Bundle's seeking Power pulling at her. And if I reach out,
touch it, will I be lost? Singing Stones' dying expression haunted her.

 
          
 
I wish you had found someone stronger, Wolf
Dreamer. Wasn't there a Fire Dancer out there somewhere? She closed her eyes.
Failure loomed so close—just over the northern horizon.

 
          
 
"White Ash?" a woman asked in the
tongue of the Earth People.

 
          
 
She turned. "Yes?"

 
          
 
The woman walked closer—hesitant and insecure,
like a whipped puppy. "Are you White Ash from Three Forks?"

 
          
 
White Ash sighed wearily. "That was a
long time ago. I was her . . . once."

 
          
 
The woman exhaled with desperate relief,
reaching out to her with trembling hands. "I am Basket. Your cousin. Thank
the kind Spirits I've found you." The woman rushed forward and took White
Ash's hand. "After all these years, there's hope yet."

 
          
 
White Ash squinted to study her features in
the light of the fires. Yes, she remembered. "You've aged."

           
 
"So have you," Basket cried.
"Look at you! A woman. And so beautiful. Oh, thank the Spirits, I've found
you! Speak for me, White Ash. Plead for me. You're my cousin. Save me!"

 
          
 
"Save you? From what?"

 
          
 
Basket exploded in a sigh, running a hand
through her tangled hair. "Terrible things have happened. An evil is loose
on the land. Witching rotted our people. Green Fire warned— yes, she warned—but
no one listened. Then your mother, she argued that the danger lurked within.
Green Fire was witched . . . witched by the evil one. Then . . . then my baby.
Did you see it? That terrible fire that burned the stars. Black Hand did it. We
know that now. Then he tried to trick us at the Gathering, made a mockery of
our clan. We—"

 
          
 
"That is past," White Ash told her.
"A new way is here now.''

 
          
 
"Sun People?" Basket took a step
closer, hands clasped before her. "They're . . . part of the evil."

 
          
 
"Evil? No. They're not evil. Why do you
think that?"

 
          
 
Basket's gaze darted around fearfully.
"Evil fills them. They killed
Owlclover
,
Starwort, and my father, Shadblow. I was taken, forced by that despicable Snail
Shell!"

 
          
 
"That's not witchery. It's the way of
desperate people."

 
          
 
Basket's suspicious eyes reflected the
flickering fire. "They call on evil Powers—like this bird they say makes
thunder. They had an old man who claimed to talk to the Spirits of the dead. He
tried to work his evil on the children. On the children* Oh, he was cunning,
laughing with them, charming them the way a snake does a bird, as he told them
stories. All the while, his evil wrapped around them, soaking into their
souls." She leaned close, frightened. "White Ash, they worship the
Camp of the
Deadl
And not only that, but—"

 
          
 
White Ash laid her hands on Basket's
shoulders, surprised by the woman's trembling. "Basket, the old ways are
gone. We must all learn a new way. The Spiral has shifted. A new Power has
come."

 
          
 
Basket hissed, "But the stories have been
running among the captives all day, saying that a strange and Powerful woman
has come to do something with Power. When I heard that it was you, my soul
leaped. Maybe you could free us, let us go back. You're the rightful leader of
Three Forks! You could lead us in the fight to drive these Spirit-possessed Sun
People from our lands."

 
          
 
White Ash shook her head.

 
          
 
Basket's face pinched. "Things would be
the way they were. We could Sing for the souls of our dead—replace them in the
womb of the earth." Her eyes went glassy. "We could live like we
always did."

 
          
 
White Ash frowned. How could Basket think the
world hadn't changed? Drive out the Sun People? White Ash took her cousin's
hands, asking, "What happened to you?"

 
          
 
"Terrible," Basket cried. "I
watched my husband murdered before my eyes. They wouldn't take your mother,
Owl-clover, or my mother, Starwort. Too old, they said." She wrung her
hands, sniffling with tears. "Then this evil-possessed Snail Shell took me
to his lodge. He . . . he . . ." She shivered. "Too terrible. I
cried, I pleaded, but he stripped me. Took me like a . . ." She bit her
hand.

 
          
 
"Sun People live differently than Earth
People. Basket, go back to Snail Shell's lodge. I met him today. He seems like
a brave and kind warrior.''

 
          
 
"What?" Basket's voice reflected
horror.

 
          
 
"The world has changed," White Ash
told her. "There is no going back. You must—"

 
          
 
"Don't you care that they murdered your
mother?" Basket backed a step, hands to her mouth. "And your clan?
I'm your cousin. You can't ..." An eerie look came to her eyes.
"You're one of them, aren't you? The rumors were true. That's why they
never found your body. You've become one of them. I've blamed the wrong person.
You brought them here!"

 
          
 
White Ash shook her head. "I've come to
Dream the new way. The Spiral has . . ."

 
          
 
A choking sound issued from Basket's lungs.
Then she turned and fled, dogs barking as she darted between the lodges.

 
          
 
"Who was that?" Sage Ghost asked
from the darkness behind her.

           
 
"Basket. My cousin from Three
Forks," White Ash explained wearily.

 
          
 
"The crazy one," Sage Ghost
observed. "She's like a rabid badger. She almost foamed at the mouth when
Hot Fat came near. Tried to drive him away from the children, until the women
got her under control."

 
          
 
White Ash rubbed the back of her neck,
memories of the Three Forks camp haunting her. Why can't I find it in my soul
to mourn
Owlclover
f s death ? She was my mother.
Wolf Dreamer, what have you done to me?

 
          
 
Wind Runner picked his way around the
sagebrush as he approached the camp. The dogs caught his scent and began
barking and yipping. He shouted to silence them, and to alert any warrior to
his identity. Sober, and with a sodden heart, he made his way past the lodges.
People clustered around the flickering fires, conversing in low tones when they
should have been rolled in their robes. Tension filled the air, dense, hanging
like some sort of malevolent smoke.

 
          
 
He ducked into his lodge—and found the robes
he'd shared with
Aspen
empty. Despair gnawed at his gut. He crouched in the darkness and ran
gentle fingers over the bedding. The robes felt cold now; the warmth he and
Aspen
had shared beneath them had vanished like
fog on a hot day. He leaned down and inhaled, filling his nostrils with
Aspen
's faint odor. He stood and rubbed his hands
on his hunting shirt before slipping out into the night.

 
          
 
He found her seated at the fire before Black
Moon's lodge. She nodded thoughtfully as she listened to the clan leader speak.
Wind Runner stood quietly in the darkness, watching the way the fire lit the
lines of her soft face. She moved with a gentle grace, fragile, yet so very
strong.

 
          
 
He stepped into the red glow of the fire
across from her and Black Moon. The pungent odor of sage smoke hung low about
the fire pit. He squatted, elbows on his knees.

           
 
“You’re back," Black Moon greeted,
reservation in his tone. "We've needed to talk to you, to hear your
advice."