"The one dancing closest to the fire?"
"That's him. His name is Two Blue Moons. He's the oldest son of the Cut Hair People's chief, Fat Dog. He came to me. He offered himself to the new Dreamer. I have a great deal of faith in him. When he leads a war party, his very presence drives our young men to seek to outdo him. Rarely does he let them. But the important thing is the daring, the cunning in warfare that such behavior develops."
"Is that all, though?" Seven Suns leaned forward, gesturing with his hand. "Life must have more to it than war and the ability to demoralize enemies."
"Must it?" Heavy Beaver lifted an eyebrow. "Look around you.. Once we were in rags, starving, always moving and dying, trying to find fewer and fewer buffalo."
"We had some good years. Rain came. The herds began to grow, the calf crop—"
"And now the rains might fail again." Heavy Beaver yawned, letting his soul sway to the beat of the drum and the rising keen of the Singers. Where was his mother's voice? There, hanging just at the edge of consciousness. t4 And if it does, Seven Suns, we'll not stay bound by the old agreement to hunt only the lands drained by the Moon River. Indeed, we can hunt south to the Sand River, to the Big River in the north. We can hunt where the game are, and no one will stop us. No, we hunt more than buffalo. We hunt people. If we can't find buffalo to kill for hides, we'll take them from those who do."
"And if others become—"
"They won't. They can't." Mother won't let them. She takes care of us y you doddering old fool! You knew her. You should have recognized her talents then.
Seven Suns shook his head slowly. "You sound very sure of yourself, Heavy Beaver.''
The Spirit Dreamer smiled and waved a hand. "I am. I've Dreamed the new way . . . and it's as the spirits told me. It's a new age, a new kind of life. We've cleaned the pollution from the People."
"And what comes next?"
"To purify others as well. I don't intend on letting the Cut Hair, or the Fire Buffalo, or the White Crane ever challenge us again. Their power must be broken, enough of their women taken to ensure marriage and economic ties with our bands." A flush of certainty, like the rising of the morning sun, warmed him. That was the way. He could almost feel it in the very air.
"And the Red Hand? How do you plan to tame the wild men of the mountains?''
Heavy Beaver chuckled to himself. "Oh, they'll fall. For the moment, the only advantage they have is that they know the country up there. They can ambush us at will. The keis to plan ahead. When we have enough supplies laid in, and enough warriors trained for it, we'll go up there and root them all out."
Seven Suns frowned, sucking at his lower lip. "There are some of my elders who—"
"Forget them. This isn't an age for the old men and old women to spout stories about First Man or the Hero 1 Here, in this new world, we're making a new way. I'm the legend of the new world, Seven Suns. My mother had this vision. She foresaw this future. She had Power running in her veins like blood. I'm just living it for her."
The image he'd conjured possessed him. In his reverie, the pot drum reflected the beat of her heart. She had become the People. He cocked his head, listening again to the chant, seeking her words. They hovered at the edge of his understanding. If only he could break that last barrier and comprehend.
“What is it?" Seven Suns asked.
Heavy Beaver ignored him, lost, trying to unravel the secret of his mother's words.
"The water has ceased to run in Monster Bone Springs. As my Power weakens, so does that of the world. Even the sagebrush is wasting. Can't you do something?" The Wolf Bundle called up into the spinning golden haze, its plea sending shivers along the silver silken way of the Spirals.
Wolf Dreamer's voice came hazily from the Spirals. "We have reached our limits for the moment. We must wait, hope. "
"And watch a world die?"
Chapter 16
Hungry Bull helped Two Smokes down a steep place, looking around the new shelter. The old berdache led them down a twisting trail as a gentle dusting of snow settled about them, whitening shoulders, heads, and packs. A scattering of juniper mixed with limber pine along the drainages while the south-facing slopes had a gray look from bitterbrush, currants, and serviceberry. Deer tracks had stippled the trail they walked.
Across from them, the opposite side of the canyon looked cool and somber as the conical tips of fir rose dark green above snarled black timber. At the crest, however, broad meadows appeared to stretch up into the grayish haze of falling snowflakes and cloud.
"Elk winter up there," Two Smokes said, gesturing toward the high meadows. "Good place to hunt in the deep cold."