People of the River(108)

Crossing the room, her mother tugged the Stone Wolf from its niche, then strode back past Wanderer to kneel before her daughter. Lichen fought to suppress her tears while she gazed into her mother's stem face. Vole's eyes looked blacker than black, and the nostrils of her hooked nose had started to flare. . "See this. Lichen," her mother said as she held up the Wolf, but she seemed to be holding it up for Wanderer's benefit. "I braided a thong to put the Wolf on, just so you could wear it when you got home." She draped the thong over Lichen's head.

Threads of Power seeped out of the object, penetrating her chest. She barely heard her mother say, "The Wolf will help Lichen, Wanderer. You don't need ..." because the Wolf had started talking to her, soft and gentle, in the voice of a woman.

"Your mother doesn't realize that her little girl died crossing the Dark River in the Underworld. That Lichen's soul is living down with the waving weeds that grow on the bottom of the river. /, too, crossed a river once — and lost my soul."

Lichen swallowed. "Did Water Snake come to save you, too?"

"No." A soft laugh. "A Dreamer did — though he didn't know he was a Dreamer at the time. He saved me in just the way Wanderer is trying to save you — by taking care of your new soul so it doesn't hurt itself before it can grow strong."

"But what if my mother won't let me go live with Wanderer?"

"Know this. Lichen: Power works toward its own ends . . . even if it has to destroy entire ways of life to keep the Spiral in balance. No single life is sacred to Power. All life is sacred. Humans are no more important than Eagle. Eagle is no more important than a tiny rice-grass seed tumbling over the prairies in autumn. All things have their place on the Spiral. The path that lies before you will be very hard. Are you brave enough?"

"What do I have to do? I know I have to go talk to First Woman in her Cave, but—"

"Before that, you must go to a cave in this world. It will be dark, cold. But fire burns there. As it did on a mountain long ago when another Dreamer had to lose his soul, his family, that he might save the Spiral. Or perhaps . . . perhaps you might find blood there ..."

"Why me, Spirit? Why not somebody better? Wanderer—"

A laugh again, as gentle as a summer breeze through a field of sunflowers. "/ once asked that question. Perhaps every Dreamer does. Power takes great risks to find the best, the strongest. You are that Dreamer. "

"But I'm scared, Spirit. What if I can't do it? What if I'm never good enough to get to First Woman's Cave?"

Wanderer glanced at Vole, who had eased down to the floor on shaky legs, her eyes glazed, mouth ajar, as she watched her daughter. Lichen's gaze had gone unfocused: Dreaming, though wide awake. Moonlight spilled through the window, cradling her heart-shaped face and flowing into the folds of green fabric she wore.

When Lichen spoke again, her voice sounded miserable: "But what will happen to my mother? What will happen to Wanderer? I can't leave them! I don't want to be alone. Spirit! I'm scared."

Lichen let out a cry and fell forward, burying her face in the kinky fur of her buffalo robe. Wanderer and Vole lurched forward simultaneously, each reaching for the girl.

"What is it. Lichen?" Vole asked as she kissed her daughter's forehead. "Who were you talking to?"

"Mother, oh. Mother!"

Wanderer crept forward and touched Lichen's shoulder. His soul ached for her. "The Stone Wolf told you that you had to leave both of us? Your mother and me?"

Lichen sobbed, "Yes!"

"But why? What's—" Wanderer would never finish his second question.

War cries rose out of nowhere. The high-pitched shrills slipped up and down like someone playing a bone comb with a chokecherry stick. Through the window, he saw the first barrage of flaming arrows pierce the darkness. They sailed in glowing arcs into Redweed Village. Screams erupted around the plaza. Wanderer's breath caught in his throat.

He whirled and dove for the door, where he jerked the hanging aside to peer out. Moonglow cast the long shadows of warriors over the houses. As Wanderer watched, a shrieking warrior shot an arrow into the temple. The cattail roof crackled to life, sending wands of light to illuminate the outcrop. Houses burst into flame all around him; people scrambled out the doors to run.

The warriors yipped and fell on the old men, women, and children alike, bashing with their clubs, shooting arrows into frail old chests. Bodies tumbled to the bloody grass. One old man, his head bashed in, crawled spiderlike, trying to get away. Contorted faces flickered orange in the blazing glare.

An arrow arced down into the roof of Vole's house. Garlands of red sparks shot upward, spattering the black belly of the sky.