People of the Lakes(13)

‘ ‘ is illusion. But you will have to die before you understand.” A pause. “You will miss the feast.”

Only after the Dead had been cared for could the mourners relax and turn their thoughts to the living and their concerns.

Warm houses and anxious families awaited their return—and, of course, the news of the ceremonials. After all, winter was the time of talk around cheery fires, and of socializing. Lapidary work on celts, adzes, atlatl weights, and pipes continued as the people waited for the Planting Moon. Weavers created their works of art. Hunters stalked the uplands, seeking to snare the whitetailed deer, or to ambush turkey or grouse, entangling them with bolas—five thongs tied together at the top and weighted with stones on the ends.

People journeyed to the City of the Dead for other reasons, too. Many came to ask their ancestors for advice, or to plead for help from the Spirit World. Others asked for courage and victory in war, or for the ability to heal the sick and the injured.

The love-smitten young often came seeking success in marriage or seduction. Sometimes a person might ask the aid of the an42 Kathleen O’Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear cestors when something was lost, hoping that while they slept, the location would be revealed to them in a dream. Visions of the future might be granted—or warnings of coming trouble.

“Is that all you ask? I will Trade a feast for Power.”

‘ ‘? A feast for Power? You’d make a poor Trader, Green Spider. And if you will do as I ask, you’ll make a Trade such as you never bargained for. A clever Trader would beware.”

Green Spider couldn’t help but glance down at the Traders’ camp that sat just up from the canoe landing. Humans were the same everywhere. Traders and artisans displayed their wares whenever opportunity presented. At solstice, rare goods were exchanged: fine textiles woven from carefully prepared fibers, brightly colored dyes, sharks’ teeth and conch shell from the southern seas, effigy pipes from the great earthworks of the Serpent chiefs, copper and silver from the country north of the Fresh Water Seas, delicacies such as maple syrup from the far northeast—even obsidian from a mythical land far to the west where the grizzly bears lived.

“Any Trader worth his calling would do what I’m willing to do.”

Many Colored Crow answered with silence.

Solstice ceremonials accomplished many things for the living, as well as for the Dead. Young men met young women, and they smiled at each other. Old women watched the young with appraising eyes, ever alert for new alliances with different kin groups. Negotiations over territory, squabbles, and other frictions were settled. Competitions were held and gambled over.

And, of course, after the Dead had been feted, the living feasted and laughed, and celebrated.

Green Spider hovered in the chilly air, watching the sun rise over the platform mound to the southeast. Members of the Blood Clan danced their greeting, peering back occasionally, searching in vain for the withered Elder who normally Sang the blessing and called benedictions down upon them.

“Poor Green Spider,” the voice twirled out of the dawn.

‘ ‘ brother refused to answer your call. You shall not be forsaken.

After all, I, too, was once as human as you, and just as anxious to experience Power. I know how your soul seeks.”

Green Spider had heard the old admonition that no one wanted to be a Dreamer. The desperate crying in his soul belied it. “I want Power to call the storms and to help my people. I have this craving … to find the reason of things. To know everything in its place/’

“To know? Oh, Green Spider, I promise, I shall show you everything. Look down there, just above the canoe landing. Do you see that house?”

“A great warrior lives there. A horrible and brooding man.”

‘ ‘, Green Spider. I will allow you one of the gifts of Power. You will be able to see into his soul.”

At the edge of the bluff, overlooking the precipice leading down to the marshy floodplain, a low mound had been raised to guard one of the canoe landings. Before it stood a single oblong house. Protruding from the four center posts, wooden effigies of Crow, Rattlesnake, Snapping Turtle, and Vulture glared out to the four cardinal directions. On the south side of the big house, two tall posts thrust upward. The wood had been intricately carved to mimic the zigzags of lightning. Faces of the ancestors stared outward, as did the Spirit Animals of War: Eagle, Rattlesnake, Snapping Turtle, and Bobcat. To the top of each pole, a human skull—dyed soot black—had been fixed, the jawbones attached with sinew. The empty orbits stared out over the entrance to the City of the Dead, mindful of the Power and fame of the house’s owner.