People of the Moon(144)
“That I do not know, Elder.”
White Eye rolled the stone eagle between his fingers. “Like you, perhaps he should arrive in the night. Bring me word, and I shall have places to secret his warriors. First Moon Valley is big, with a great many towns, villages, and houses. We can find places where the Blessed Sun’s warriors cannot weasel you out.”
Wrapped Wrist asked, “Do you believe we can do this, Elder? I mean, can we take Pinnacle Great House while the Blessed Sun holds it with his best warriors?”
The old man smiled wistfully. “What did Ripple say? Fire and ice? The key lies there.”
“But what does it mean?” Crow Woman asked, and glanced at Wrapped Wrist with a camaraderie that surprised him.
“We shall just have to wait to find out.” White Eye smiled. “And trust to these gods you seem hesitant to accept, Crow Woman. They have their own needs here.”
“So do our clans.” Wrapped Wrist stared thoughtfully at the fire. “I was there that night of the meeting when you decided to rescue Ripple. Some of our clan elders won’t want to participate.”
“No, I suppose not.” White Eye tilted his head back. “We will have to be very discreet.”
Crow Woman yawned, the warmth of the fire obviously playing upon her fatigue. She shook it off, adding, “What message do you wish me to take back to the war chief?”
White Eye said, “I will have an answer for you in the morning. Meanwhile, I must think.”
“I need to take a message to Soft Cloth.” Wrapped Wrist rose to his tired feet.
“Take Crow Woman with you,” White Eye ordered. “See if you can find her another dress to wear while she’s in the valley. That war shirt stands out like a burning brand in the dusk. Rest at Soft Cloth’s. I will send Fir Brush and Yellow Petal to see you. They have been wondering about their kin. Then return to me tomorrow night. Should anyone show interest in you, you are a husband and wife visiting from down valley.”
Wrapped Wrist knew he looked just as horrified as Crow Woman.
“Your lives may depend on it.” The old man’s voice snapped like a whip. “Act like it!”
It was only after they had climbed back out into the cool night that Crow Woman asked, “How could he know I wore a war shirt?”
Wrapped Wrist shivered, dreading her presence. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things he knows.”
“Act married? To you?”
“I think he’s still punishing me for leaving my buffalohide at his doorstep.”
She pointed her finger. “If you so much as touch me …”
“Go ahead and kill me. It’ll be a Blessing.”
Forty-two
MONSTERS
The stories about giant rattlesnakes, man-serpents, flying spiders, deer-antlered men, and all the other creatures of evil and darkness have filled my imagination from the beginning. I know them all: blood-sucking, meat-eating creatures that lurk in darkness, prowl the Underworlds, and hide in springs. They are tied to rivers, deep forests, and hidden places below the earth.
In Dreams I have battled them. While soul-flying, I have escaped their clutches or outwitted them while in search of the dead. I have enchanted some, lured and baited others, and even brought a few into my embrace.
I have little fear of monsters, demons, or evil Spirits. For the most part, they seek only to tear the heart from a person’s breast, or perhaps devour his soul. In any event, their strike is quick—usually without warning. An instant of excruciating pain, a heartbeat of terror, and then … Nothing. Blackness. Void.
While Dancing in Sister Datura’s arms I have looked into the darkness and seen the monsters staring back. The first time, so long ago, an abject fear almost paralyzed me. I survived by the barest chance of fate.
Knowledge is Power. As I came to understand the monsters, my fear ebbed and drained away like a muddy pond in a drought. Familiarity with their ways taught me to respect and understand them, as a hunter knows and avoids the great bears, cougars, and poisonous reptiles.
I have watched the unease grow in people’s eyes when I describe the monster beasts that inhabit the Spirit Worlds. I’ve seen them shiver in mindless terror at mention of a cannibal owl. For days after, they cannot sleep, their Dreams filled with images of huge monsters.
How can they be such fools? Those selfsame individuals who toss and turn in terror of a Spirit Beast will fawn over some soul-twisted chief who just pulled the intestines out of an infant in a futile attempt to scry the future. Tell people that a certain spring is inhabited by underwater witches, and they will flee in screaming panic. Mention a giant winged scorpion, and they will cower in their houses until they starve. But show them a great chief infected with evil and watch them flock to his side. They will compete to curry his favor, mindless of the demented gleam in his eyes as he turns his smiles upon them.