Entering the gate, she found the courtyard crowded. Everyone had dressed in his or her best. The priests and conjurors were decked out in the symbols of their offices. Clan representatives wore white, red, and black tunics that denoted their affiliation, each sporting the clan totem to which they were subject. The matrons among them wore colorful capes, beaded or quill-worked, furred, or feathered. These draped the women’s shoulders, protection against the evening chill. Off to the side stood the engineers; each bore the symbolic stick-and-string, emblematic of their ability to survey.
In the center of the courtyard the giant, lightning-scarred, red-cedar pole jutted into the sky like a mighty lance. Blue Heron remembered the day it had been raised. A young woman—token of their respect for Old-Woman-Who-Never-Dies—had been sacrificed and buried at the base, a physical representation of First Woman who lived in her cave beneath the World Tree. The entire length of the pole bore carved images depicting scenes from Morning Star’s storied life in the Beginning Times. At the bottom—facing east and carved in relief—was the figure of Old-Woman-Who-Never-Dies’ daughter Corn Mother. She lay on her back, legs pulled up and spread as she gave birth to Morning Star. On the west was the depiction of her thoughtlessly tossing away her afterbirth. The Morning Star’s twin brother, known as The Wild One, was depicted crawling out from the discarded tissue.
For some reason, White Finger stood before it, an amused smile on his blue-painted face.
Successive scenes depicting stories of the Hero Twins battling Spirit Creatures wound their way up the pole. In one they played chunkey against the giants who had killed their father, and won the giants’ heads. At the very top had been carved Morning Star—fitted with eagle wings—as he looked toward the eastern sky. The sacred mace of office was clutched in his right hand, his father’s severed head in the left. Burn scars from lightning only added to the pole’s immense Power.
Behind it stood Morning Star’s tall palace with its steeply pitched roof; it rose like a huge sky-splitting wedge. Atop the high center pole were affixed carved statues of Eagle looking to the east and west.
Nobles representing the various Houses of the Four Winds Clan crowded the small plaza. Representatives from the different nations were present, each dressed in the manner of his people. And there, too—at the Morning Star’s invitation—were the clan leaders from the ever-influential Earth People clans.
She nodded to Matron Red Temple of the Fish Clan and endured the fawning smile from her brother, the obsequious Thin Otter. Like all of the Earth People clans, they remained matrilineal, all possessions being passed through the female line.
“You are looking well,” a smooth voice announced from behind her, and she turned as Chief Right Hand, of the Deer Clan, touched his forehead respectfully. “A bit warm today, don’t you think? The heat should germinate the seeds, and if we can just get a little rain…?”
She shot him a smile, having never quite known what to do with Right Hand. Deer Clan had always been a supportive ally of the Four Winds Clan. Or perhaps “reliable” would be a better word to describe the handsome chief and his sister. Blue Heron looked around, asking, “And where is the Matron Corn Seed?”
“Slightly discomfited, Clan Keeper. A stomach ailment. Nothing that won’t pass.”
She studied his handsome face, oddly aware of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The man had once been a crafty chunkey player, and no doubt remained faster on his feet than the strands of gray at his temples would indicate. Like so many, he, too, had once been interested in Night Shadow Star. “Please give the Matron my fondest wishes for a speedy recovery. If, however, she is not better in the next day, send word and I will have my personal healer attend to her.”
The scar that marred his firm chin bent as he smiled. “I will communicate both your kind words and your generous offer, Clan Keeper.”
She held his eyes for a moment longer, wondering how, after all the men she’d been through, she’d managed to miss at least a flirtation with Right Hand.
“Good to see you, Clan Keeper.” Matron Soft Bread of the Hawk Clan stepped forward, touching her forehead. “Have you, by any chance, heard word of the attack on the heretics up north?”
“Not yet, good Matron. Let’s see, your son commands a squadron under Spotted Wrist, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, Clan Keeper. And given the history up there…” The white-haired woman barely stifled an uneasy smile. That she would tread so close to offending Blue Heron was but a sign of the tension that had run through the Earth People clans since the army left for the north. The move had been audacious, Spotted Wrist leaving a full moon before spring equinox in hopes of achieving surprise for his attack on Red Wing town.