Throughout the day, runners had come bearing news about the fire. At first it had blown southward, forming a long and sinuous front. Reports came in of walls of flame that literally blasted down the mountain valleys. High winds carried burning ash and glowing cinders that lit more fires in advance of the flames. By the time the wall of fire caught up, they’d been fanned into conflagrations of their own.
One runner reported the fate of a colleague. He had observed the man fleeing down a mountain trail on the next ridge. A fleet runner, the fire had proved faster, engulfing him and even a small band of panicked elk. The runner had never seen fire move so fast; he’d sprinted from the area, powered by a panic of his own.
“Will it stop?” Blue Racer asked.
“It should,” Water Bow replied with a certainty he didn’t feel. “This cold will help. The fire will slow, burrowing deep into dry wood. Perhaps by morning the winds will cease. If they do, the valley will protect First Moon Mountain. We have water on two sides, and exposed shale on the other.”
“I cast the auspices four times atop Spider Woman’s Butte. In none of the auguries did I see this. From the alignment of the Star People as well as the casting of the bones, Sister Moon’s homecoming should have met with fair weather.” Blue Racer puffed his irritation.
Water Bow could see the condensed breath. “This feels more like snow than anything.”
“How would you tell?” Blue Racer asked. He indicated the blowing ash that slowly spiraled out of the darkening night sky. “As it is, Sister Moon will rise between the pillars this night, but no one will see her. Not with a murky black sky like this. Even sunset has been cloaked.”
“Will you conduct the welcoming ceremonies?”
Blue Racer shrugged. “I haven’t decided. If we can’t see Sister Moon, she surely can’t see us. What’s the point of welcoming her if she remains ignorant of our greetings?”
Water Bow wasn’t sure how to reply to that. He glanced down the slope, where the Eagle’s Fist was just barely visible. Beyond that, people crowded the slopes. Most were Made People, relatives of the ridge inhabitants whom the warriors had allowed to pass Guest House. As the temperature dropped, their numbers had declined in favor of warm fires in accommodating pit houses.
“Blazes,” Burning Smoke muttered as he climbed up from below. He squinted into the wind and wrapped his cloak around his body against the bitter cold. “You’d think this was winter solstice instead of equinox.”
“I’ve been hearing that all day,” Blue Racer said caustically.
“We having a ceremony?” Burning Smoke asked.
For a long moment, Blue Racer considered, then shook his head. “I’m not sure if we should or not. I hate having to wait. The Blessed Sun has expressed his strongest interest that we ensure the ceremonies are a success.”
“That’s assuming we’re not battling fires on the slope below us tomorrow night.” He looked down at the thick forest on the northern slope. Gods, if that caught, it would roast anyone on the summit like a rabbit on a stick.
Burning Smoke wiped a hand over his face, smudging the soot that had accumulated there.
Hands, faces, clothes—ash and soot coated everything. Water Bow’s once snowy white robes would have to be sent down and thoroughly washed in the rivers, assuming the waters ever ran clean again. Just that af ternoon Matron Larkspur had poured a cup from a freshly obtained water jar, only to find the water dark with ash. For the next while they would be drinking from the storage jars.
The war chief turned his attention to the stone pillars. In the faint light, they loomed as mere shadows in the thick haze. “As the night darkens, I’m not sure your Priests will be able to see each other. It’s going to be black as pitch. And with this wind, torches will blow out. If we light bonfires, the gusts will blow the fire sideways.”
Blue Racer hugged himself for warmth. “Nevertheless we shall Dance tonight. But the last thing I want is for one of my people to be blown over the cliff, or to fall just because he couldn’t see in this miserable gloom.”
Burning Smoke jerked a curt nod. “Very well, I’ll alert the guards.” He turned, stocky frame disappearing as he descended the ladder.
“Time for a hot drink,” Blue Racer said. “I’d better warm my heart as often as I can these days. If it keeps up like this, the gods alone know how soon the Blessed Sun is going to want to cut it out.”
Water Bow nodded, thankful to escape the cold. How could the fire keep burning when it felt ever more like freezing? “The gods pity those poor guards on a night like this.”