People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past) (44 page)

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

BOOK: People of the Raven (North America's Forgotten Past)
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Dropping her knife into her pouch, she wiped at the welling blood until it dripped from her fingers. Then, with a dramatic gesture, she flicked blood into the fire, where it sizzled and hissed.
“With the blood of my body, I seal that oath!” One by one, she glared at them. “I am here because I am
tired
of tribute and raiding. The old ways serve none of us anymore—neither the Raven People nor the North Wind People. The Council is led by the insane. Wolf Tails stalk the North Wind families while North Wind war parties sack Raven villages. And all the while the world grows warmer and the sea levels rise. Mud chokes the beaches and kills the fish.” She might have been a trapped cougar the way she looked at them. “Our world is changing. I, for one, am ready to change it more.”
“Then why do you plead for Ecan?” Bluegrass demanded. “That’s just like the North Wind, forever protecting their own!”
Shouts rose in support.
Evening Star, heedless of the blood dripping down her arm, walked and stood face-to-face with Bluegrass. “Chief, I have as much claim on Ecan as anyone in this room. I’m not the only one here who witnessed the Starwatcher burn my village, kill my mother, boil my husband’s intestines while he screamed, and had to hear my daughter killed. I
know
what he does to women, because he kept me for almost two moons!
She was nose to nose now as her voice dropped. “Unfortunately, I have to be more than just a woman crying for revenge. I have to consider
more than just my grief, and rage. I have to be a
leader
. Do you understand?”
“Of course.” Bluegrass didn’t sound so sure of himself.
“Then you know that to
lead
, you have to think beyond yourself. Beyond this moment when we all cry for revenge! Sometimes you have to make bargains you don’t like in order to serve the better interests of your people. Isn’t that right, Bluegrass?”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Then you can understand why I gave Tsauz my oath that I would try to save his father in return for his help in destroying the North Wind Council.”
The only sound in the lodge was the crackle and hiss of the fire as Evening Star met each chief’s eyes. “We have the chance to break the Council and change the way we live. We can only do this if we act together. Sometimes you have to give up a little to receive a lot.” She returned to Rain Bear’s side.
“Hear, hear!” Black Mountain cried.
Rain Bear rose to his feet. “We must attack together, all of us pooling our warriors and resources, or we will fail.”
Goldenrod got up and stood shoulder to shoulder with Rain Bear. “I agree! My warriors will join Rain Bear! Who will fight with us?”
Over a dozen chiefs rose to their feet calling in assent.
Bluegrass slapped his war chief on the shoulder, turned his back to Rain Bear, and headed for the lodge flap. Four others followed him out into the cold morning wind.
Evening Star folded her arms and waited until they’d gone. “Forgive me,” she murmured miserably. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Black Mountain gave her a narrow-eyed stare. “Bah! Without you, Bluegrass would have taken half of them out with him.” He shot her a grin before he stood to speak with two other chiefs.
Rain Bear glanced at Brush Wasp. He had the unhappiest face Rain Bear had ever seen: a face from which all hope of peace had fled. Etched in every line, resolution battled with despair. He remained seated as the others slowly filtered out into the morning.
Rain Bear called, “I thank you all for coming. Please, go home now and discuss this. The next time we meet, it will be a war council.”
As people began to file out, Goldenrod said, “Evening Star is right. Sometimes you give up a little to get a lot more.” The tone in his voice wasn’t pleasant.
“What do you mean? Only five refused to join us. That’s better than I’d hoped for.”
“They didn’t refuse to join us, Rain Bear. They set themselves up against us. We’re going to have to dispatch half our forces to guard our backs while the other half attacks the North Wind People. I’m not sure where the greater threat will lie. In front of us … or behind us.”
“They need some time to think. They may yet join us, once they understand the stakes.”
Goldenrod wasn’t convinced. “I pray you’re right.”
Black Mountain gestured to Goldenrod, who touched Rain Bear’s shoulder in a show of support and followed Black Mountain outside.
Brush Wasp waited until the lodge was almost empty before rising and crossing the floor. He bowed to Rain Bear, then knelt in front of Evening Star. “Matron, I must speak with you.”
Evening Star frowned. “Yes?”
“I carry important news, Great Matron.”
“I am not a great matron.”
“Not yet. But you will be.”
She cautiously asked, “Who are you?”
Brush Wasp glanced around warily, then whispered, “I am Sand Wasp, war chief to Kaska, matron of Salmon Village.”
Rain Bear heard Evening Star gasp.
Sand Wasp continued, “She wishes you to know that the North Wind People will be leaving Fire Village by the dark of the moon in seven days.”
Evening Star studied him, as though searching for treachery. “Why would she tell me this?”
“Because her mother was murdered by Chief Cimmis’s assassins. She wants him dead. She believes you are her friend.” His gaze searched her face. “That’s true, isn’t it?”
“Tell my cousin that I love her as much today as ever.”
“I was sent to determine if you really were working with these people to attack Cimmis. After the things that were said here, I’m sure.” He glanced uneasily at Rain Bear. “Can you trust him?”
“I can.”
Sand Wasp held her gaze for several moments before he whispered, “Very well. Know this: If you can arrange for an attack on Cimmis, Matron Kaska promises her forces will be at your command.”
Evening Star’s shoulders tensed. Rain Bear waited anxiously for her response. Another fifty trained warriors …
Evening Star said, “What does Kaska think she may gain from this?”
“Cimmis’s death.”
“Others may be killed, as well. Perhaps Matron Astcat and the
Four Old Women. Does she hope to become the next great matron of the North Wind People?”
Sand Wasp was taken off guard by the accusation. “No. I mean, she does not! In fact, she suggested that perhaps
you
might ascend to that position.”
“I cannot accept her offer.”
Sand Wasp blinked in surprise. “Why? After seeing you face down that chief, I’m convinced you are more worthy than ever.”
“You heard what was said here today. Take it to her. Tell her Rain Bear’s intention is to break the North Wind People—not just Cimmis. If she agrees—”
“Wait.” Dogrib held out a hand to Rain Bear. “Great Chief, we can’t allow him to return to Fire Village. He may be an emissary from Matron Kaska, but he could just as easily be a spy for Cimmis.”
Sand Wasp’s mouth tightened. He carefully drew back his cape, allowing them to see his hands, then reached into his belt pouch. He pulled out a magnificent spear point pendant. “Matron Kaska sends you her mother’s pendant as a token of her loyalty.”
He handed it to Evening Star.
Evening Star’s fist closed around the precious gift. “Gispaw was a good friend,” she whispered, “and a great leader of our people.”
Dogrib stepped closer. “Cimmis may have ripped it from her corpse and sent it to you himself! We have no way of knowing if Kaska actually sent it.”
Sand Wasp gave Dogrib an evil look.
Rain Bear considered as he tried to read past Sand Wasp’s building anger. “I say we fill Sand Wasp’s pack with food and let him go.”
“What?” Dogrib asked. “Why?”
Rain Bear’s gaze remained locked with Sand Wasp’s, judging the set of the man’s jaw, the fire in his eyes. “Because even if Sand Wasp repeated every word he heard today, it wouldn’t change our plans. Nor would it change the Council’s. Cimmis already expects us to attack him on the trail to Wasp Village.”
Sand Wasp granted him a wary smile of respect. “You are right, Great Chief. He sent White Stone to us several days ago and laid out our defensive strategy.” He knelt on the floor, and his cape folded around his moccasins. “I will show you how he plans to defend against your attack.”
Dogrib exchanged a look with Rain Bear before he knelt beside Sand Wasp.
“These are the places Cimmis thinks the North Wind People will be vulnerable.” Sand Wasp made a dot in the dirt with his finger.
“Fire Mountain.” He drew the main trail down the mountain between Fire Village and Wasp Village. “Tomorrow, he will send war parties to begin securing narrow, confined, and dangerous sections along the trail. Scouts will sweep the country for hidden enemy warriors in an attempt to deny you the element of surprise.”
He tapped the dirt. “But he still expects you to reach the trail with enough warriors to pose a threat. His best spear throwers will encircle the North Wind People like a great wall as they travel.”
Dogrib smoothed a hand over his jaw. “How many warriors does he have at his disposal?”
“He has ten tens of his own and another ten tens from nearby North Wind villages, but five tens of those belong to Matron Kaska.”
Dogrib’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Rain Bear. “We may be able to glean ten tens of warriors from the camps here, but I suspect it will be more like eight tens, and many of those will be inexperienced youths. We will be badly outnumbered.”
“Yes,” Rain Bear said quietly, “but there will be a few hands of time where Cimmis’s forces are split three ways. That is when we must attack—before they can reunite around the North Wind People.”
“That will be tricky.” Dogrib tapped the map on the ground. “If we’re not
very
careful, we will end up with enemy warriors in front of us—and behind us.”
Sand Wasp rose to his feet. “Matron Evening Star, if you have no further need of me, I will leave you to your plans. It will take me two days to get home. Matron Kaska will send a messenger with her answer.”
“Go, Sand Wasp. I pray the Star People watch over you.”
He bowed to her and left.
“Seven days,” she said, and gave Rain Bear a heartrending look.
“We don’t have much time.” He smiled encouragement to her. “But first, let’s attend to that arm. We can’t have the next great matron bleed to death from an oath.”
W
ord had arrived long before Pitch’s party could make its way up the trails. Ecan watched his son’s messenger as he was borne on a litter up the trail from Salmon Village.
Sunset’s soft amber gleam flooded Fire Mountain, turning the men who carried Pitch’s litter into wavering shadows. People crowded the trail, calling greetings, shouting questions.
Ecan smoothed his hair. In preparation, he had pulled it away from his face and twisted it into a bun at the rear of his head. The style gave his chiseled features a stark look that he liked.
He shielded his eyes. No less than six warriors bore the litter. Pitch had one arm in a sling, and it left him off balance. Though he gripped the side poles with his good hand, he bounced every time the warriors’ feet struck the ground. The party had been traveling for two days to reach Fire Village.
Ecan straightened his long white cape and headed for the gate. As he marched down the trail, Cimmis stepped out of a group of warriors. His blue cape flapped around his tall body.
When Cimmis caught Ecan’s eye, he broke away from the warriors and strode toward him. Two guards, Hunter and Deer Killer, followed. Cimmis had his square jaw clamped, and his windblown hair and beard made a snarled gray halo around his face.
“The matron and I will meet with the messenger in the Council Lodge, Starwatcher. We will send for you when we are finished.”
“But, my Chief,” Ecan said in surprise, “my son sent the messenger. He may—”
“I am aware of who sent the messenger. If Singer Pitch does carry a message for you from your son, I will make certain you have the opportunity to speak with him
after
the matron and I do.”
“But that’s foolish! I may be able to understand things that no one else can.”
Hearing the unbridled anger, Cimmis gave him a narrow-eyed glare, then swept past him and headed toward the Council Lodge. Hunter and Deer Killer stood uneasily to either side. Wind Scorpion leaned on a nearby lodge, his dark eyes missing nothing.
Sharply, Ecan asked, “What are your duties, warriors?”
“The chief ordered us to bring the messenger to him, Starwatcher,” Hunter said, squaring his shoulders. “Then he wishes us to stand guard at the entry to make certain they are not disturbed.”
“I see.”
Deer Killer gave Ecan a half-panicked glance, then fixed his gaze on the gate. He’d coiled his black braids over his ears and secured them with rabbit-bone pins. It made him look like a big-eared bat.
“How’s your stomach these days?” Ecan asked slyly.
Deer Killer swallowed hard, placing a hand to it as if it were tender.
The guards standing on either side of the entry shouted the arrival of the messenger.
Ecan said, “I want you to bring the messenger to me immediately after Matron Astcat is finished with him. Do you understand?”
“Of course, Starwatcher.”
They fled with unaccustomed swiftness.
As the litter was lowered to the ground, Pitch jumped off and clutched his slung arm, as though in pain. He looked like a skinny boy. Nothing more. His thin face and hooked nose glistened with sweat. He wore a tattered elkhide cape. Ecan’s eyes narrowed. So this was Pitch? Rain Bear’s son-in-law?
Pitch spoke quietly to the guards. Hunter and Deer Killer escorted him up the trail to the Council Lodge, where he ducked beneath the door flap and disappeared. Hunter and Deer Killer took up positions outside.
Ecan gruffly folded his arms. Odd, he didn’t even remember Pitch, though he must have seen him in Rain Bear’s camp, which proved how much of an impression the youth had made. He stared at the Council Lodge for a time, then turned.
Dzoo stood behind him—perfectly still, as though not quite real.
“Greetings, witch.” He instinctively clenched his fists. Wind Scorpion had a slight smile on his lips, as if expecting something.
Her deep voice had a velvet quality. “Where is the matron?”
Ecan looked up the trail to her lodge. No guards waited to take her to the meeting. “She must already be in the Council Lodge.”
Which meant Cimmis had received advance warning from a scout. He had had time to both rouse his wife and escort her to the Council Lodge long before he’d sent runners to notify Ecan.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“Waiting,” she whispered, and tipped her chin toward the Council Lodge. “For that.”
Cimmis ducked under the door hanging and walked out into the plaza. He looked angry as he paced back and forth with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest. Finally, he stopped short, glancing this way and that until he picked out Wind Scorpion. He summoned the grizzled warrior with an angry gesture.
Ecan would have sworn that Wind Scorpion smiled ironically as he trotted toward the great chief. Smiled? When Cimmis looked as if all the fury on earth was building in that old battered body?
Ecan said, “Now, there’s a curious development.”
Dzoo’s voice was as musical as the wind. “The message Pitch carries is for Astcat alone, but I wasn’t sure if she would have the courage to dismiss her husband.”
He stared at her. “How do you know this?”
“Do you know what they’re discussing in there, Ecan?” Dzoo whispered, as though she didn’t wish anyone to overhear them. Her eyes seemed to have no pupils.
“No. Do you?”
She leaned forward to hiss, “They’re selling you. It’s like the summer solstice market. They’ll haggle over price for a short time, and then—”
He cut her off with a gesture and untied his cape laces, opening the front to the wind. He was sweating. “Do you really think I believe your threats?”
Her gaze drifted over Fire Village before she asked, “How is Mica?”
The change of subject left him floundering for an instant. “Dead. But he lasted a lot longer than I thought he would.”
Ecan boldly stepped to within a hand’s breadth of her, close enough to smell the earthy scent that clung to her hair. “What did you do to them, Dzoo? Some sort of poison? Some strange plant you brought from those buffalo hunters out on the plains?”
She softly laughed, “He’s taking them one by one—everyone who was near me. Hunter and Deer Killer will have to be next. Eventually he will have to eliminate White Stone and then … you.”
 
 
M
atron Astcat was seated on a log before the fire, her long seashell-covered leather cape spreading around her feet in firelit folds. A walking stick leaned against the log beside her. She wore her gray hair twisted into a bun on top of her head, which accentuated the gaunt lines of her wrinkled face.
“Matron Astcat, I bring a message from Tsauz, son of Starwatcher Ecan,” Pitch called formally as he knelt before her.
“Before you deliver the message”—she put a bony hand on his shoulder—“I want you to verify a rumor.”
“If I can, Great Matron.”
“Two hands of time ago, a Trader passed through here. He said there was a great uproar in your village because Ecan’s son had had a Spirit Dream. Is it true?”
“Yes, Great Matron.” Pitch nodded, eyes still downcast. “There is indeed an uproar. Our people—”
“I mean about the Spirit Dream. He really did fly on Thunderbird’s back?”
Pitch nodded again. “Yes, Great Matron. Rides-the-Wind and I were both witnesses. As a Singer, I have no doubt. The Soul Keeper thinks Tsauz will be a very great Dreamer someday.”
She let her hand fall.
Pitch looked up.
She had kind, vulnerable blue eyes. “Then perhaps he is the Dreamer I am supposed to listen to.”
Pitch frowned, not sure what she meant.
She smoothed her hands over the cape that covered her knees. “What is the message?”
“Tsauz was told that our peoples are like Eagle and Raven with their taloned feet locked together in a death grip. So long as we fight this way, neither can fly.”
“An apt analogy,” she whispered absently, her blue eyes distant.
Pitch nerved himself. “Thunderbird told Tsauz that all we can do is spiral ever downward, no matter how hard we beat our wings. He said that even if one of us manages to kill the other, we shall still be
locked in the death grip.” He winced. “And, in the end, we shall spiral, exhausted, into the waves.”
“Neither an eagle nor a raven can swim,” she noted.
“No, Matron. In Tsauz’s vision, we are swallowed up by the sea. But it does not have to end that way. Tsauz was told a way to stop it.”
Her gray brows slanted down. “How?”
“You must make the most painful decision of your life.”
“What? Must I forgive my enemies? Surrender my position as matron? Deny my daughter her rightful succession?”
“You must take another husband.”
“Another husband?” Matron Astcat’s wrinkled mouth hung open in surprise. “Why?”
“Tsauz did not tell me why, Great Matron. Just who.”
Astcat straightened. Behind her, firelight fluttered over the bark walls in golden waves. “Who is this man I am supposed to marry?”
“Tsauz, Great Matron. You must marry Tsauz to end the war.”
A mixture of anger and disbelief creased her face. “Is this some joke? One of Ecan’s charades? I will not marry a ten-summers-old boy!”
Pitch bowed his head and stared at the floor. Tiny flakes of obsidian, the debris from stone toolmaking, had been pressed into the dirt and glittered around her moccasins. “Tsauz said that you do not have to divorce Cimmis; he will be content as a second husband, but Cimmis must step down as chief.”
“That’s
preposterous
!” she exploded, then consciously lowered her voice. “Force Cimmis to step down and install a boy in his place! Never!”
Pitch continued staring at the floor. “Tsauz also said to tell you that you must marry and announce him as chief quickly … or within days you will be crying over Cimmis’s dead body, and nothing will stop our peoples from destroying themselves.”
She picked up her walking stick and propped her hands on the polished knob. For a long time, she stabbed the stick at anything nearby: the hearthstones, the woodpile, the tripod holding the tea basket.
Finally, she gruffly asked, “You say the Soul Keeper, Rides-the-Wind, believes this Dream?”
Pitch nodded solemnly. “He does.”
Matron Astcat made an irritated sound. “Did he send a message to go along with the boy’s?”
“No, Great Matron.”
“No explanation at all?”
“No.”
“The old fool. I suppose he just expects me to do it.”
Pitch lifted his eyes. Wan evening light from the smoke hole slanted across her face and shimmered in the last red hairs that threaded her bun. They were the same color as Roe’s hair. This was his wife’s grandmother, yet they’d never met. He felt oddly as though it were his fault. Perhaps he should have made some attempt to run up the mountain to speak with her before his marriage to Roe. Roe would have hated the idea, but …
“Go now.” Matron Astcat took a deep breath and let it out slowly before adding, “Send my husband to me.”
 
 
E
can spun around when voices rose. A chastened-looking Pitch walked out of the Council Lodge to speak briefly with Cimmis, who immediately ducked back inside.
Hunter used his war club to gesture to Ecan. Pitch marched toward him with Hunter and Deer Killer on his heels.
When Pitch approached, Dzoo’s expression softened, as though she was glad to see him.
Ecan stepped deliberately in front of her. “He’s coming to speak with me. Back away.”
Dzoo only gave him a cold smile.
Pitch strode up and bowed respectfully to Ecan. “Greetings, Starwatcher. I bring a message from your son.”

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