Seven Skull Shield actually admired the way Blue Heron had taken control, ordered the wounded and dying to be carried up to the palace, and set about alerting not only the Morning Star and his guard, but Matron Wind. Runners had been sent to warn the other Houses; Healers had been summoned to attend to the wounded and dying.
Another runner had been dispatched to the Four Winds Men’s House, and an alarm had been raised that called out the local squadron by means of a thumping drum. By the time the warriors had been assembled and trotted to Night Shadow Star’s the attackers were long gone.
All that, and in a pouring rain to boot! Seven Skull Shield arched an eyebrow in tribute to the Clan Keeper as dawn burned pink behind thin patches in the somber gray overcast. Twisted tufts of cloud continued to scud across the sky to the east.
But as impressive as Blue Heron’s organization had been—and despite the crisscrossing messengers and squads of warriors who’d been splashing around in the lightning-riven night—several things remained problematic: Two porters, three guards, and Field Green were dead; two other porters were dying, and two were seriously wounded; no one had any idea of who the attackers were; and most terrifying, Night Shadow Star and the Red Wing were nowhere to be found—alive or dead.
Seven Skull Shield hunched and pulled his cape more tightly around his shoulders. He’d braced his back on the plaster wall, knees pulled up to support his elbows. When he sniffed the damp, smoke-filled air, the scent of wet earth, trodden grass, and the sullen taint of too much humanity filled his nostrils. The comings and goings of warriors had tracked a slick coating of mud up the stairs, past the guardian posts, and onto the matting as though some huge slug had left its glistening trail.
“Tell the Morning Star that we can only assume they have been taken,” Blue Heron was saying to the latest messenger, one of Dead Bird’s slaves. “It is light now, and we have enough warriors scouring every nook and cranny around the palaces, temples, and shrines, that someone would have found the bodies.”
“Yes, Clan Keeper.” The man dropped to one knee, first lowering his forehead to the ground, then following it up with a touch of fingers to the smudge the muddy mat left above his eyes. With that he was on his feet, pounding away.
Not for a hand’s time had Blue Heron had so much as a moment to herself. Now she sighed, massaged her face with tired fingers, and turned her attention to one of the attacker’s arrows they’d collected.
“No markings.” Seven Skull Shield forestalled her remark. “I’ve looked them over to exhaustion. They are too perfect. The shafts are absolutely identical; the stone war points are as similar as twins and chipped out of bluff-milky chert. It’s that stuff that comes from the gully quarries in the bluffs a hard day’s run to the south. Even the turkey-feather fletching is cut just so. My guess, Keeper, is that they’re from one of the arrow maker’s workshops in River Mound City.”
She arched her eyebrows, sighed, and nodded. “Could you find the maker?”
“I can.” He gave her a humorless grin. “But as good as the attackers have been up until now, I suspect they weren’t clumsy enough to introduce themselves and ask, ‘Will these arrows be right for shooting down the lady Night Shadow Star’s people?’”
Blue Heron gave him a shadowy smile. “No, I suppose not. But wait a moment.” She turned, calling back through the doorway, “Smooth Pebble? Is breakfast ready? If so have Notched Cane bring a plate to Seven Skull Shield.”
“Coming, my lady.”
Blue Heron rolled her neck as if it were cramped, her face drawn into a grimace. She added, “You might as well go on a full stomach. Save you stealing breakfast from some poor innocent soul who’s struggling to get by.”
Seven Skull Shield spread his hands defenselessly. “Keeper, I swear, I never steal from the innocent.” He accented the gesture with a wolfish grin. “It’s the arrogant, crafty, and rudely overbearing ones I can’t pass by.”
She actually laughed at that as yet another runner came pounding his way down the sloppy avenue from the Four Winds Clan House. The young man leaped his way up the stairs, bowed deeply before the guardian posts, and dropped to his knees just beyond the veranda.
“Come,” Blue Heron called, nodding acknowledgment as the youth touched his forehead. “What news?”
“Tonka’tzi Matron Wind wishes to inform you that by the time the sun is two hands high we should have three squadrons called up for the search for Lady Night Shadow Star.” He withdrew a folded section of hide from his breechcloth, handing it to Blue Heron. “Those are the respective areas Matron Wind has detailed each squadron to search.”