He grinned to himself. “You do sleep better after I’ve worked my magic.”
“That’s only half of your magical qualities. For the moment I need your other talents. What word about Lady Lace?”
“Still missing.” He ripped off a piece of fish and popped it in his mouth. “I don’t understand,” he murmured as he chewed. “The Keeper and the Tonka’tzi are tight-mouthed. Something terrible happened that night in Lace’s palace. They wouldn’t have immediately burned it otherwise. And raining like it was? They ordered a lot of oil to be poured on the flames to ensure it burned to the ground. That was a cleansing, my love. An act to counter some terrible pollution like the old Tonka’tzi getting his throat cut.”
“So, do you think Lace is dead?”
“If they’d burned her remains along with her palace, they wouldn’t be searching so hard for a young pregnant woman. Warriors are everywhere poking around. And even more interesting, word is out among the less desirable elements. In this case, Crazy Frog, Black Swallow, and their kind. A man can become wealthy, no questions asked, if he provides the Four Winds Clan with information on Lace’s whereabouts.”
He smiled. “Clever, clever. That had to be the thief’s work. The Keeper, aloof as she is, would never have thought of it. No, Lace was definitely taken. Spirited away in the darkness and rain. But whether she remains alive or dead? That, I can’t say.”
“What about Night Shadow Star? Could she be behind this? Conveniently soul-flying while her agents commit havoc?”
Flat Stone Pipe wiped his greasy hands on his apron, then went about meticulously cleaning his fingers. “The presence of Rides-the-Lightning in her palace for so long, and his refusal to leave her side when one of his own kinsmen was sick, argues against that. I’d say she’s really soul-flying. I have heard that the Red Wing is guarding her.” He chuckled. “The fool has her whole household turned upside down and hating him. Clay String is livid. Apparently the Red Wing threatened him with violence if he didn’t straighten up and do his job.”
Columella finished her fish, washed it down with sassafras tea, and nodded. “That’s a good thing to keep in memory. The day may come when we can use Clay String against her.”
Flat Stone Pipe gave her a flinty squint. “I’m hearing stories. That thief the Keeper has taken up with? Apparently he ambushed a foreign warrior in some dead-end passage in River Mounds City. Few details accompany the story, but he captured the man alive and somehow got him to the Keeper’s.”
“And?”
Flat Stone Pipe shrugged his small shoulders and laid his empty plate to the side. “All I know is that the upland Deer Clan chief and matron—the ones called Right Hand and Corn Seed—were escorted by warriors to the Council House last night. My sources were ordered out of the building along with the other messengers and recorders, so I don’t know what was said. I do know, however, that Right Hand and Corn Seed’s bodies were carried out by some of Five Fists’ trusted warriors. Secretly, and long after everyone else had left.”
Columella leaned back on her bedding, eyes tracing the patterns on her beautiful cane wall, trying to fit the new pieces together.
“Lady?” a voice called from beyond her door. “The High Chief asks that you attend him. He has a visitor who needs to speak with you.”
She sighed, set her plate to the side, and stood. “Stay put. Depending upon what stupidity my brother has stirred up now, by the time I’ve dealt with it, I may need to call a recess, send the entire household out on errands, and have you ‘relieve’ my stress with your magic.”
He gave her a mock bow, touching his forehead with his small fingers.
She draped her cardinal-feathered cape over her shoulders, felt to ensure that her hair was fixed appropriately, and swept out into the palace great room with its decorations, smoking central fire, and wall hangings.
The first thing she noticed were the warriors, a solid line of them in the rear. Dressed in battle armor, they clutched weapons; their faces were without tattoos, their posture insolent.
Absolutely unacceptable, brother. What madness—let alone stupidity—convinced you to allow an armed force inside my palace?
Her household servants and slaves were seated uncomfortably on the wall benches to the right. And in the rear were High Dance’s boys, Fast Thrower and White Stem, and his daughter, Two Leaf. Her own son, Panther Call, his brother, Night Wolf, and her daughter, Onion Flower. The children clustered in a huddled knot. From their terrified expressions, they were anything but happy.