Blue Heron cried, “But that’s crazy! Walking Smoke? You’re telling me he’s the one who conspired with Right Hand to kill the Morning Star? By Horned Serpent’s shining scales, why? Surely not because Chunkey Boy surrendered his body to Morning Star. It was done willingly. And what would poor Lace have to do with the story? Why butcher her husband that way? Why abduct her? Why would he try to kill you, Night Shadow Star? You’re his sister!”
Night Shadow Star raised a muscular brown arm, hand out to stop her aunt. “Clan Keeper, a foul and black wind blows through his souls. He sees this world with different eyes than the rest us. Disembodied Spirit voices whisper and guide him, and he listens to them as declarations of truth. Under their sway, he remakes the world as the poisoned voices would have it.” She paused. “Do you understand? He is convinced he is the Wild One, the chaotic twin. He truly believes that the Wild One’s Power is his. And he is about to unleash it.”
“Unleash it how?” Tonka’tzi Wind asked. “We’re hunting him! It’s only a matter of time before we find him, run him down, and kill him for the diseased beast he is!”
“Where is Sun Wing?” Night Shadow Star asked softly, as if changing the conversation.
“She was sent a summons to be here like the rest of us,” Tonka’tzi Wind replied, looking around. “How should I know? Perhaps she’s distracted by her husband again?”
“She’s gone to her brother,” the Morning Star interjected, eyes fixed on the distance.
“Gone to him?” Blue Heron asked, cocking her head. “To Walking Smoke? Why?”
“Because he has offered her all of Cahokia if she will serve him.”
“That’s insane!”
“It is all insane,” Night Shadow Star said in a low voice. “The twisting of senses and thoughts by the winds and storms of perverted Power. Black and deceiving voices from other worlds whisper among our souls like stroking fingers. We are warped and bent, molded into the tools of a dark and destructive Power. Then we are made to serve. All the while our lost and frightened selves wish for nothing more than peace. To be left alone to nurse our fear and hide from the prying eyes of those who do not understand … and cannot conceive.”
At her words, a shiver ran down Seven Skull Shield’s back. Pus and blood, the woman sounded absolutely possessed.
“And you think Lord Walking Smoke is deceived by this evil Power that blows through him?” Tonka’tzi asked.
“I know it, aunt.” Night Shadow Star’s haunted gaze seemed to bore right through the Tonka’tzi.
“How?” Blue Heron barked. “Did he tell you? Have you seen him? Heard from him?”
She shook her head absently. “I know because, but for Piasa’s Power filling me, whispering to me, I would be the same lost and wretched being my brother has become.”
Spooked as he was, Seven Skull Shield caught the stiffening of Morning Star’s shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes as he watched Night Shadow Star. He certainly believed it.
Blue Heron seemed to shake herself. “Getting back to the problem, Walking Smoke has violated the Morning Star’s banishment. He has returned with Tula warriors to murder his own family, and has been playing us for fools.” She snapped her fingers, expressing irritation. “No wonder he’s been so successful. He knows us, knows Cahokia. He could have walked among us at will, his face painted, wearing rags. He could blend in with the crowd, hidden right before our eyes, and we’d never have known.”
“But why?” Tonka’tzi Wind demanded. “What did we ever do to him except treat him as the heir to the Four Winds Clan? We covered for that boy, cleaned up after his crimes, gave him everything he ever wanted.”
“Like his brother before him, he discovered he wanted even more than you, or anyone, could give,” Night Shadow Star snapped, a harsh anger in her tone. She was looking hard at the Morning Star. “Chunkey Boy and Walking Smoke? My brothers shared everything. What one had, the other couldn’t stand to be without. They were Four Winds, of the Morning Star House, sons of the Tonka’tzi and the legendary Black Tail. They lived above the laws of Power and men.”
She sniffed derisively, her hot glare on Morning Star. “It could not have happened! Not to me. The images were spun of something whispered by malignant voices—a fantasy nightmare promoting discord. A nightmare that repeated itself over and over. It woke me shivering from the deepest sleep. I blamed myself, felt ashamed that such vile and sordid images could inhabit my dream soul. I had convinced myself that I was somehow perverted, that my souls bore some pollution that led me to even dream such a disgusting and revolting event. I might have even continued to keep it at bay, but for my brother’s return. It provided the opening Piasa and Horned Serpent needed to pull back the midnight I’d draped around my souls and memory.”