People of the River(185)

Lichen leaned over and sniffed at the wet scents of water and mud. Down in the creek, two turtles paddled along the shore, sneaking up on insects. "Wanderer, do you know what? When I was in the Underworld, I thought I could hear your voice. It sounded like the wind."

He smiled. "Oh, that's because I'd cut that hole in your head and I could talk directly to your soul. It's going to be interesting to see what kind of voices you hear now that you have two holes in the top of your head. I've never known anybody with two."

"Maybe that's why I keep hearing the com and squash talking to me."

Wanderer glanced at her, then lifted his gaze to the new sprouts of green that dotted the burned fields. "What are they saying?"

"They want to know when there will be more rain. I said it would come tonight."

"How do you know?"

"Thunderbird told me."

He nodded mildly. Since she had gotten Falcon's soul, Thunderbird talked to her all the time, his deep voice rumbling through her head.

Wanderer's eyes suddenly narrowed. Lichen turned to see what he was looking at. Coils of black smoke rose into the still air above Cahokia.

Wanderer said, "Kettle told me that people had been arriving for two days to watch the cremation. They've already started spinning legends about him. Wicked ones, I hope."

Lichen leaned her head back and stared up at the sky. As Father Sun sank lower on the horizon, crimson streaks shot into the hearts of the wisps of cloud, turning them into blazing spirals. They couldn't bury Tharon in the ground, because that would have offended Mother Earth, and they couldn't give him a platform burial, because Father Sun would have been outraged. Burning him was the only way to be rid of his polluted body.

"How long did First Woman say that humans could stay here. Lichen? Did she give you an idea?"

Lichen tilted her head reluctantly. "She didn't say . . . not for certain. Only that she would be watching us closely."

"Well," he sighed, "I hope Petaga runs what's left of the chiefdom better than Tharon did." Suddenly Wanderer skipped sideways, pointing. "What's that?"

Lichen turned her head, staring at the brush. "It's just a weasel hole, Wanderer."

Cold tendrils tightened in his chest. "I thought I saw him . . . sneaking up on me."

"Weasel would be silly if he bothered you, Wanderer. 1 have Prairie Falcon's soul."

A great weight seemed to lift from Wanderer's shoulders.

Lichen smiled and drew a perfect spiral into the ground with the toe of her sandal. "Wanderer? I think I have to stay here. To help Petaga. Can't you stay with me? Maybe for just a while. Until I get used to things."

He gave her a soft look that broke her heart and patted her shoulder. "I'll stay. For as long as Power will let me." Cautiously, he glanced back at the weasel hole and sighed.