Blue Heron’s eyes glittered, her expression tightening into an enraged mask. “Five Fists, take this thing out and tie him in a square. I want him to die slowly, over a moon if you can—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Night Shadow Star finally found her voice. “He’s mine.”
“Blood and spit, why?”
“Piasa has a twisted sense of humor to go along with his cruel streak.”
“I need to hear more about that.”
She felt the beast curl inside her chest, prodding her to look again at the bodies.
“We both do. So far, however, Piasa hasn’t bothered to inform me just what his reasons are for saving this bit of filth.” Night Shadow Star’s grief-laden thoughts began to coalesce. “We’re distracting ourselves.” She pointed at the corpses. “Who did this? Why now?”
Blue Heron took a deep breath, raising her hands in agreement. “Yes, yes. But I have one last question.” She looked at Fire Cat. “What is your purpose in this, Red Wing?”
Again his eyes never wavered as he said, “While hanging in the square, I pledged my life, honor, and souls to serve Lady Night Shadow Star. I am the son of Matron Red Wing, maybe the last of my clan. My vow is inviolate, and once bound, I do not go back on my word.”
“Even though you hate us?”
“Even so, Clan Keeper.”
“And you are not part of a plot to commit these … atrocities?”
He smiled humorlessly. “Unfortunately, I am not.”
Night Shadow Star snapped, “Since you claim to serve me, whatever your blasphemous opinions concerning the Morning Star, you will keep them to yourself. That is my will. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “I understand.”
If nothing else, at least she could respect his honor.
She asked, “If you were going to act against us in this fashion, Red Wing, who would you contact in Cahokia? How would you proceed?”
He glanced at the bloody corpses, rubbed his jaw, and said, “I’d look for someone in the Four Winds Clan. Each of these ‘houses’ you’ve established to run a part of this giant city is still composed of greedy and ambitious lineages. Your”—he made a face—“Morning Star may have brought peace to the warring factions, but it is nothing more than a fragile patch over deep and festering resentments.”
“A name?” Blue Heron prodded.
He gave that odd, one-shouldered shrug. “Which houses have you humiliated the most?”
Blue Heron said nothing.
That could be any of them, Night Shadow Star thought as she glanced again at her father’s dead body, fought back the ache of grief, and rubbed the new welling of tears from her eyes. “For the moment, aunt, we’ve a bigger problem: the tonka’tzi is dead. The people have to be told something. If we admit assassination, the entire city might explode.”
“Dead in his bed,” Blue Heron agreed. “That’s all they need to know. And in the interim, Matron Wind can assume his place as tonka’tzi.”
For the first time the man standing in the rear of the room spoke. “Then you’d better act quickly. I counted seven of the tonka’tzi’s personal attendants out there. As soon as they walk out of that room, their jaws are going to be flapping. If there are any you can’t trust to keep their guzzle-traps shut, you need to remove them immediately. Otherwise, someone’s going to wag his tongue.”
“And it will spread like a wind-driven prairie fire,” Blue Heron agreed.
Night Shadow Star tightened a fist on her grief and forced herself to study the stranger. He was big, muscular, perhaps in his early thirties, with an oddly blocky face and strong jaw. He wore only a nondescript, smudged, and grease-stained shirt that hung to mid-thigh. His hair was pulled up in a simple bun and held in place by two wooden pins.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Blue Heron arched an eyebrow. “You ordered me to find him. I thought you wanted me to locate him for a reason.”
She frowned, trying to make sense. “I did?”
The man gave her a lecherous grin accompanied by an insolent wink. “I’m known as Seven Skull Shield.” He touched his forehead with just enough brevity to leave her unsure if it had been a measure of respect, or an insult.
Seven Skull Shield? He’s this despicable person?
“It was just words,” she whispered.
“What words?” Blue Heron asked. “Heard where?”
“Piasa told me. I was talking to you at the stickball grounds.”
“He speaks to you?”
Images of pain and terror spun around her memory like a whirlwind. She felt Piasa’s shadow stir within her. In that instant, she was back in the Underworld, living it again. The horror, the pain and terror …