“The only thing we have for each other is burning hatred,” Fire Cat murmured. “I killed her husband, she killed my world.”
“Yes. It has become so very apparent.” The old man’s lips quivered, as if he were hiding something. “This most special hatred you and the lady share, along with your obligation to serve her, is somehow vital.”
“You’d think Power would have picked two people that didn’t despise each other when it went looking for such, in your words, vital allies.”
“Yes.” Rides-the-Lightning’s lips quivered again. “You would, wouldn’t you?” He seemed to be on the verge of some revelation, then he chuckled to himself.
“What?” Fire Cat watched Night Shadow Star swallow the last of the water he’d trickled into her mouth.
“I was wondering, musing absently about the ways we can delude ourselves. That is all. How long would you stay and continue attending to Lady Night Shadow Star if her souls don’t return? Sometimes bodies can live for years as soulless husks.”
“As long as her heart beats, and I can keep breath in her lungs, Soul Flier.” Fire Cat used a square of cloth to wipe away a bit of spittle that leaked from the corner of her mouth. “I gave my word.”
“And that is important to you?”
“I’m the last Red Wing. My honor is the only thing which remains mine.”
“That … and the part Power has chosen for you to play in this final confrontation.” The old man’s lips bent in a wry smile. “Yes, I see.”
“See what?”
“You heard Blue Heron’s thief when he came to summon Night Shadow Star to the Council House: Lady Lace is taken by the abomination.” He raised a withered and gnarly finger. “That is the term they are using in the Spirit world for this mad sorcerer. Abomination.”
Seeing Night Shadow Star swallow, Fire Cat began trickling water again. “Abomination? That’s the term we use … excuse me, the term we used when we talked about the Morning Star.”
Fire Cat pursed his lips, glanced at the blind soul flier, then asked, “Is this appropriate … or even right? This spreading practice of calling the souls of the dead back into the living? Doesn’t it reek of an arrogance to wrench the Morning Star out of the Sky World and insert him into a human body? Especially one as sordid and mean as Chunkey Boy was storied to be?”
“Sordid and mean? Strong words, Red Wing.”
“Rumors have long legs, elder. And on those legs they traveled often to Red Wing town. Once there, people spoke without fear of Four Winds Clan retaliation.”
“And perhaps without fear of bending the truth, as well?”
Fire Cat shook his head. “There were too many stories, for too long a time, clear up until Black Tail died and Chunkey Boy stepped into his place.” He paused, considering. “Although people did stop talking about Chunkey Boy’s abuses after that.”
“Perhaps a glimmering of the truth that Chunkey Boy’s souls were consumed? Hmm?” Rides-the-Lightning suggested mildly.
“Or that being known as a ‘living god’ no one ever denied him anything he wanted. He even exiled and murdered his brother as one of his first actions. They were such good friends, weren’t they? We heard the stories way up in our frozen north of how they went everywhere together, played chunkey and stickball, committed pranks and high jinks. The boys and Night Shadow Star were in one another’s constant company, no matter the improprieties of a high-born girl acting in such an unseemly manner. The jokes where that Chunkey Boy would have her installed in the men’s house, that she’d pass her monthly cycle there instead of in the women’s house.” He arched an eyebrow, only to realize that Rides-the-Lightning couldn’t see it, and added, “And the more vicious among the rumor mongers crowed that, as a ‘warrior’ the only blood a pampered high-born bitch like her would ever see would be on her menstrual rags.”
Rides-the-Lightning nodded, as if this was nothing new. “Those same fools might wish to clip their tongues. The three arrows she shot into Cut String’s back would have fit into the size of a cottonwood leaf.”
“Why did Chunkey Boy have his brother exiled and murdered? They were best friends, weren’t they? Inseparable, boon companions?”
“It was the Morning Star who ordered the exile. Not Chunkey Boy.” Rides-the-Lightning rubbed a callused hand over his face, rearranging the faded black patterns of tattoos where they hid among the wrinkles. “The living god is under no obligation to explain his orders. Warriors took the younger brother by surprise, escorted him to the canoe landing, and bore him downriver.”