People of the Fire(15)

Without the Traders, blue stones couldn't come from the far south. Olivella, dentalium, and oyster shells from the western ocean wouldn't be traded for special beads. Beautiful tool stones of chert and obsidian, elk ivories, dried delicacies like buffalo tongue or finely crafted robes could not leave his own area for that of the River Peoples in the east.

But the Traders did more than bring goods a people couldn't find where they lived. They carried news of the land and animals. The Traders brought information about wars and different bands of people. Although Blood Bear had never been there, he knew of the oceans to the west and south from the Traders' tales. He'd never met a member of the Thunder People in the far south, but he knew they shaved the sides of their heads, scalp locks hanging far down their backs in a single braid. The Father Fish People, he'd been told, lived many tens of days of journey to the southeast and ate mostly fish because they didn't have buffalo. He'd learned of many people through the stories of the Traders.

Three Rattles hunched his back, slipping out of the tump-line, letting the heavy pack slide to the ground while the dogs came up to nose Blood Bear's own animal. At the first growl, he cuffed his beast, ordering it away.

"Been a long journey," Three Rattles told him, pointing far to the south. ''Not good down there. Been a lot of raiding. Buffalo aren't doing good. Most of the people are camped along the rivers—mostly running mud now. Then there's places south of Moon River where the dirt blows so bad you can't see. I crossed places where sand drifts across the earth like snow in the winter. Nothing growing there. Nothing to eat. Got to carry rations. Each time I go, the dunes get bigger." He paused. "What's news here?"

Blood Bear shrugged. "The same. The People want rain."

Three Rattles looked Blood Bear up and down. "You been out by yourself." The unspoken question remained.

Blood Bear bridled and forced himself to sigh. "I won't go back until I find something."

"You're Blood Bear."

"I'm Blood Bear. I didn't know my fame had spread."

Three Rattles laughed, squatting down on his haunches. "Got some special stuff here. Dried fish from the south ocean. Not much left, only a taste or two. Share?" He reached up with some brownish-looking flaky stuff.

Blood Bear took the small piece offered and bit into it. He couldn't quite decide if he liked the curiously oily taste. The fish had been too long in the pack; a slightly rancid aftertaste remained in his mouth.

"Not buffalo," said the Trader, " but still food."

Blood Bear squatted. "You wouldn't have heard of a woman traveling south, would you? Among the Red Hand she was known as Clear Water. She left my people eight summers ago with a berdache."

Three Rattles nodded. "I heard. You've been looking that long?"

Blood Bear stared out over the baked flats. Only the greasewood looked green. Casually, he lifted a shoulder.

"No, I've heard nothing of a woman from the Red Hand. Me, I've been up and down. I like going along the mountains clear south to the wet lands. I go south for a year. Then I go north for a year to spend time with the White Crane and see my relatives. After the winter, the voice calls and I go south. In the four trips I've made, I never heard of this woman. That still leaves a lot of places to look, east and west and north."

"She had something that belonged to the Red Hand."

"The Wolf Bundle."

Blood Bear's heart skipped. "Then you know."

"I know. I know something else, too. You may not have had to go so far in your searches. Last spring I camped with a Short Buffalo People band where Moon River and Sand River join into one. I heard jokes about a berdache who eats grass. That was last spring, so I don't know how far to trust the strength of those stories. You know, information, like sinew, gets old and cracks and falls apart with age."

Blood Bear frowned into the distance. "Two Smokes used to collect grasses. He'd chew them sometimes, but mostly he put them in his pack."

"This could be him. The berdache they laughed about picked grasses. They said he had a sacred bundle with him. The other thing I remember is that he limped. Buffalo ran over his leg or something."

"Remember the band he was with?" Blood Bear's heart seemed to boom like a pot drum at Blessing. He stru to keep himself still, fighting the urge to fidget and rock on his heels.

"Heavy Beaver's. They normally range on Moon River. Raid the Red Hand every so often. But then I guess you raid back."

"We haven't raided much in the last few years. The spirit of the . . . Well, we just haven't raided." But if this berdache was Two Smokes, that would change.

"You know, that's why the Red Hand and the White Crane split so long ago. It was a fight over the Wolf Bundle. I don't know all about it, but it's old. Very old. We still have legends about it."