People of the Morning Star(39)
“Oh, I believe.” But, just what, exactly, she wasn’t about to tell her niece. “So, the Water Panther himself told you Cut String was going to kill the Morning Star? Did he say why?”
“No. Only that if he succeeded, the resulting struggle would tear the world apart.” Her voice sounded hollow. “We dance with death, Aunt. A wondrous Power has filled Cahokia, but what frightens the Piasa is that it might burn out of control, unpredictable, and dangerous. Not just to us, but to the Spirit World as well.”
“And Piasa specifically chose you to deal with this?”
“Chose?” Bitter laughter exploded from her lips. “I was lucky to escape with what little I did. It cost me to come back, cost me … everything.” Her voice faded, expression falling.
“You’re not talking sense.” Blue Heron waved up toward the palace. “And why are those accursed Red Wings still alive up there? Because their kin were tasty?”
“When you dance in blood, Aunt, the ground gets slippery. You can no longer leap in exaltation, because when you do, your feet fly right out from under you. When you fall, you land in gore.”
“You’ve gone from talking nonsense to riddles.”
“They are alive because they have to be.” Night Shadow Star studied her with eyes possessed of an unearthly gleam. “Piasa demanded your involvement. Only you can weave the pattern. He has orders for you: find the thief known as Seven Skull Shield.”
“Find a thief called Seven Skull Shield? I can find anyone. But if you’re talking about the two-legged scum I think you are, I’d rather run a couple of hot copper needles through that slippery weasel’s eyes than—”
“And … And then…” Night Shadow Star’s eyes had lost focus as she struggled over the words.
“Then … what?”
“And then there’s the Red Wing war chief.”
“Bah! I’m going to Rides-the-Lightning. Your souls are still loose, flying around like some—”
“Enough!” Night Shadow Star half crouched, eyes slitted like some dangerous panther’s. “And you will listen to me, Clan Keeper. A whirlwind is gathering. Before this is over, you’ll cry tears of blood. And the souls of all you love will be forfeit.”
At the tone of her voice, alien, empty, Blue Heron felt a cold premonition run through her. “Who are you?”
“I’m the sacrifice, Clan Keeper. The one who has lost everything I once had … and everything I might be. Look at me, and you see a dead woman.”
Blue Heron barely deigned a glance at her niece’s lithe body, bursting as it was with vitality. “You’re a lot healthier, and certainly a lot less ‘dead’ than I am. And you still serve the Morning Star.”
Her weird other-worldly eyes seemed to enlarge. “Not anymore, Clan Keeper.”
“I wouldn’t tell Morning Star that.”
The twist of her lips was faint, amused. “I’ve already told him.”
“And he let you live?”
“He can’t kill a body that’s already dead.”
“You’re scaring me, Niece.”
The stranger’s eyes living in Night Shadow Star’s face reflected slivers of sunlight. “Good. Because you’ll be living true terror soon enough.”
The Fly
Flies are drawn to corruption and rot. Which is why, I suppose, I am drawn to the Four Winds Clan. Flies are creatures of the air and sky, as are the four swirls of the Four Wind Clan’s favorite design.
Flies are also innocuous, they go where they will, buzzing here and there, and no one notices. The same with me. I stand now, arms crossed, one leg thrust forward as I chatter aimlessly with Smooth Pebble. The berdache sees nothing but a fly, a harmless being, buzzing just enough to irritate him as he clutches the ceramic pitcher I wagered him over the outcome of the stickball game. It’s a Casqui piece I picked up for almost nothing.
Like a fly, I was able to stand within hearing distance of Blue Heron, and stare my eyeballs out as I watched every move my beautiful Night Shadow Star made. I could revel in the sight of her, fantasize about that spring-taut body. As she raced past, I could smile gleefully at her gleaming black hair, watch the muscles in her thighs and calves. In my imagination my hands were full of her breasts, fingers sinking into the softness as her nipples hardened against my palms.
One day, my love, I will look down into your marvelous dark eyes, watch your pupils expand as my shaft drives into your warm depths. At that moment, I’ll feel every muscle in your marvelous body tense, hear the breath straining in your lungs, and my love for you will explode like a thousand stars into a coal-black sky.