People of the Moon(176)

“In the name of the gods, why?”

Ripple took a breath, slapping his hands to his sides. “In the name of the gods. That’s exactly why. It’s a battle, Bad Cast. You’re a hunter; you know that it’s one thing to bait a trap, but the game has to be reassured before it will walk into the kill pen. There are things going on that you don’t know … can’t know!”

Bad Cast’s expression pinched in the old familiar way. He nodded, shooting Ripple a submissive glance. “All right. I think I understand.”

Ironwood glanced back and forth; the warriors were muttering among themselves.

“What’s next, Dreamer?” Ironwood asked.

“Would you let the trap spring before you act?”

Ripple watched the conflict behind the man’s eye, could see his souls struggling, writhing with indecision. In the end, desperation won out. “Yes, Dreamer, I would.”

Ripple swallowed hard, hearing the man condemn himself to the path of the gods. “Then you must follow my orders.” He paused, aware that every warrior was listening. “Will your men follow you?”

Ripple was aware of cautious nods as the war chief said, “I’m sure they will,” with more authority than he felt. The old warrior’s single eye was rife with indecision.

“All is not lost,” Ripple said quietly. “As it was planned, you’d never have won. Now our victory is assured.”

“How?” Bad Cast demanded. “If the Dog’s Tooth is burning, Matron Larkspur found out about Whistle and White Eye! For all we know, they’re up there waiting for us!”

Ripple nodded, seeing the confusion in his friend’s eyes. “Oh, yes. The Flute Player has moved his pieces. He thinks he has won the game. Now we must wait. Be patient.”

“For what?” Ironwood demanded, his resolution beginning to fray.

“For Cold Bringing Woman and the katsinas to move theirs.” He stepped close to the old warrior, staring into his eye. “Will you trust me, War Chief? Trust Cold Bringing Woman’s vision? I promise, allies are coming from unusual directions.”

He could feel the tension, see the struggle as if it were smoke that rose from each man in the party.

“Yes,” Ironwood said angrily. “Tell me what you will have of me.”

“A place to wait.” Ripple turned to the surrounding warriors. “And a patience worthy of your greatness.”

“What are you doing?” Bad Cast demanded.

“Fulfilling a promise to a god,” Ripple said hollowly.





In the evening light, Bad Cast sat with Soft Cloth. They perched on the sandstone rim and looked out over the River of Stones. Juniper Ridge cast a deep blue shadow over the fertile fields in the floodplain below. Across from them, First Moon Mountain rose, the twin pillars touched with the last strokes of orange. Even as they watched, shadow slipped up the rock, as if their world were drowning in darkness.

In the north, the sky was black, yellow, and red, billows of smoke rising as the northern mountains continued to burn.

Bad Cast tightened his grip on Soft Cloth’s hand. “There they go.”

On the other side of the valley, in the dip below the blackened ruins of the Dog’s Tooth, the first white specks of Blue Racer’s Priests emerged onto the trail that would take them the rest of the way up to Pinnacle Great House. Like a slow snake the column of men emerged, winding its way upward.

“It can’t be that bad,” Soft Cloth said.

“How bad can it be?” Bad Cast was past reassurances. “I’ll tell you.” He pointed at Pinnacle Great House where it squatted on the peak. “Leather Hand will kill and eat Elder Rattler, White Eye, and the rest of the clan leaders. The war chiefs will be gutted and tossed over the cliff. We are back where we were when the First People came here. They’ll take many of the lineage elders off as slaves; the rest of us, well, we have to punished. Expect our harvest to be confiscated. All of it. Every last kernel.”

She shook her head. “They wouldn’t do that. If we starve to death, who will they find to farm this land next year?”

“Dust People,” he said quickly. “Yellow Soil People, people from the Green Mesas, refugees from the lowlands. The Blessed Sun can offer it to anyone he wishes.”

Soft Cloth frowned, a rebuttal rising.

“No,” Bad Cast said firmly. “You haven’t seen the things I have. You don’t understand.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Look at me, and listen very carefully. I want you to think about leaving this place.”

“What?”

“You, me, our baby, and any of our relatives that we can talk into it.”