As the warrior ran away, Evening Star kept her gaze on Tsauz. The boy was shaking. Sweat beaded his face and ran down his throat.
He had the kind of spun-silk courage that only the very young could possess: frail and shining, but somehow more powerful than a thunderstorm.
She reached across the fire, taking his hand from the cup he held. “It took remarkable courage to bargain with me, and even more courage to say the things you did. You must never mention to any of the North Wind People what you’ve just said.”
His stricken face looked ashen, his voice little more than a croak when he said, “I know, Cousin. Now I must live with the choice.”
“We all live with our choices,” Rides-the-Wind agreed.
She withdrew her hand and said, “I thank you, Cousin. I will do what I can to save your father. But do not expect miracles.”
“I think I must talk to Rides-the-Wind. Alone please.” Like a dutiful child, he rose to his feet.
Rides-the-Wind struggled up beside him. As he clasped Tsauz’s hand, Rides-the-Wind said, “If you need us, we’ll be awake for a time.”
She watched Rides-the-Wind lead the boy into his lodge.
After the door flap fell, Evening Star heard Tsauz say, “Please, I have to fly to the Above Worlds tonight, Rides-the-Wind. I must speak with Thunderbird. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
The old Soul Keeper was quiet for a moment; then he said, “Do you understand the importance of what you’re asking, Tsauz? What you do tonight may change your life forever. If you are not worthy, you may even be killed.”
“I understand, Elder.”
“Then come over here by the fire and rest while I send for Pitch.”
Wind Woman picked that moment to blast through the village, whipping the trees and churning up old leaves and sand. Several surprised warriors grabbed for their weapons, then laughed.
Evening Star closed her eyes.
She could barely stand to think of what lay ahead.
Forty-two
Rain Bear crouched just inside Rides-the-Wind’s door and chafed. He’d barely begun to give orders when Pitch had summoned him away from Dogrib’s council of warriors and led him to Rides-the-Wind’s. Pitch had insisted it was important. Now that he was here, he was just sitting, and receiving occasional measuring glances from the old Soul Keeper.
A storm was moving in. Icy air gusted against the lodge, rattling the baskets to his right and buffeting the two red ritual capes that hung on the peg just inside the door. Until recently, this had been a storage lodge. Hide bags still hung from the ceiling poles, filled with fragrant herbs: sagewort for sore throats, ground aster root for pinkeye, bluebell for fever and heart trouble. He shivered. To his left, Tsauz lay curled on his side, staring at nothing. The fire in the center of the lodge cast a flickering gleam over his young face.
Rain Bear whispered, “Are you all right, Tsauz?”
He nodded and whispered back, “What are they doing now?”
Rain Bear turned his attention to Rides-the-Wind and Pitch, who sat cross-legged in the rear of the lodge. Both wore long white shirts decorated with leather fringes. The cup of Cloud People blood sat on the hides between them. Four beautifully painted leather bags surrounded the cup. As Rides-the-Wind directed, Pitch picked up a bag and poured something into the cup; then Rides-the-Wind stirred it.
Rain Bear whispered, “They’re pouring things into the Cloud Person’s blood.”
“What things?” Tsauz’s blind eyes shimmered orange in the firelight. He had bathed a hand of time ago, and his black hair glistened.
“I can’t tell. I’m not sure I’d know even if I were down there and could smell them. They’re probably secret ingredients used only by very holy people.”
Impressed by the gravity of his voice, Tsauz nodded. “My father won’t even let me touch the bags that contain his Healing plants. He says their Spirits will fly up and kill me.”
A powerful gust of wind rocked the lodge, and the walls squealed and shuddered.
“That’s good, Pitch. Let’s start building the spiral ladder,” Rides-the-Wind said.
“What ladder?” Tsauz hissed. “The ladder to the sky?”
Rain Bear struggled to keep the impatience out of his voice. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Rides-the-Wind shot him a censoring glare, then got up and duck-walked across the lodge to reach for a coil of ropes. He handed them to Pitch and pointed to the lodge cord. “You remember how to tie them?”
Pitch smiled thoughtfully. “How could I forget? When I climbed Grandfather Vulture’s ladder, I thought I was going to fall off and die. I remember everything perfectly.”