People of the Moon(147)

Fir Brush nodded, then smiled at Crow Woman, saying, “Welcome to First Moon Valley.”

In First People tongue, Crow Woman replied, “I hope locusts eat your crops down to stems.” Then she smiled politely.

At that, Wrapped Wrist leaned forward, hugging Fir Brush to his breast, eyes closed, a smile on his face. She returned his ardor, clasping him awkwardly as she tried to encompass those broad shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Fir Brush whispered. “I’ve been sick with worry.” She backed away, staring into Wrapped Wrist’s eyes. “How’s Ripple? I’ve heard … well, terrible things. He’s alive, isn’t he? Does he need me? I can have Slipped Bark packed, ready to go. We could meet you along the trail.”

“He’s fine. Fine.” Wrapped Wrist made a face. “Gods, how do I explain? He’s not Ripple anymore.”

Fir Brush tensed, expression hardening. “Because of what they did to him? His hand, his mouth?” She winced. “I heard they cut him. Took his …”

“He’s healing. As to whether it will ever work, who’s to say?”

“Who cares for him? The Mountain Witch?”

“She’s with Spots.”

“Is he injured, too?”

“No, she’s traveling with him.”

Fir Brush’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“How should I know? I was running messages when she took him. Bad Cast says that he Dreamed her, or she Dreamed him, or some such thing.”

Crow Woman arched an eyebrow. How long had it been since she’d seen people act so normally? The scene touched something she’d thought long dead inside her.

Fir Branch shook her head. “This Dream thing will pass. When’s he coming home?”

“I don’t know.” The mood faded, turning serious again. “He may be in Ironwood’s camp for a time.”

“The war chief?” Fir Brush’s eyes widened again. “You’ve seen him?”

Crow Woman couldn’t help but smile at the young woman’s awe.

“He’s … well, impressive,” Wrapped Wrist said. “Scary when you first see him, scarred, and his one remaining eye cuts through you like a knife. Then you watch him with his wife, or children, and he’s just like anyone else. But sad. Maybe the saddest man I’ve ever known.”

“And Night Sun, you’ve seen her?”

“Yes.”

“What’s she like?”

“A stunning woman,” Wrapped Wrist answered. “I think she’s the greatest lady I have ever seen. She walks with perfect grace, and when she looks at you, a deep serenity lies behind her eyes.”

Fir Brush sat back, an expression of amazement on her face. “And Ripple’s in the middle of this? Our Ripple? I just can’t believe it!”

The walls vibrated again, another face poking into the smoke hole. “Wrapped Wrist? Is that you?”

He looked up. “Yellow Petal?”

Another young woman, this one scarred, thickset, but self-possessed, came climbing down the ladder, followed in turn by Soft Cloth with baby at breast. They both beamed, smiles as if for Wrapped Wrist alone.

Gods, what did he do? Collect young women like a flower drew butterflies?

She sighed; her stomach was empty and her bladder full. She had never had the chance to share a normal woman’s society. Had never had female friends like these. Watching them was like observing some strange and distant people. The inside of the pit house looked like a potter’s circle.

It was going to be a long day.





From where he lay in the willows, Spots watched the long procession wind out of Dusk House. Like a huge multicolor millipede, it marched down from the first terrace onto the floodplain. At the front strode a thin figure in bright blue robes. He bore a tall walking stick, his eyes thoughtfully on the ground. Behind him came a double line of Priests, dressed in white, their long hair hanging down past the middle of their backs. Then came the warriors, ranks of them wearing red war shirts, their weapons packed in bundles on their backs, most bearing round wicker shields that made them look like bulbous figurines. Four parallel ranks of Made People marched in turn, and finally, at the end, came the slaves with their backs bent under full burden baskets. Warriors trotted along their flanks, calling orders, raising yucca-leaf scourges to swat at any who would tarry.

At the ford, the party waded across and took the eastern trail Spots and Nightshade had come down. East? And he knew: It had to be Blue Racer and his party. They were on their way to First Moon Valley to prepare for the Moon Ceremony.

Spots propped his chin on his right fist and scratched a mosquito bite with his left.