People of the River(36)

"Locust," Badgertail called. "We'll enter the outer palisade through the west gate." He motioned with his head to the left, indicating that they should take the narrow path that led around the base of the westernmost chamei mound. Here the houses and storage buildings gave way to open space.

Locust veered away from the houses of the Conmionbom to skirt the small plaza before the chamei mound, but a hooting mob followed them. A few rocks flew into their procession, and the warriors shouted threats, but Nightshade paid no attention. Her nose had picked up the sickly sweet odor of the dead. In the big house on the mound, the Starbom kept the bodies of important people while they {wepared them for burial by dressing them in fine clothing, painting their faces in scarlet pigments, and rubbing their flesh with a precious mixmre of sacred cedar bark and hickory oil. On the hottest days of sunmier, the stench became overwhelming, forcing people to drape their sleeves over their noses as ±ey passed. Old Marmot used to tell her that Mother Earth found the odor of death pleasing and that Nightshade, as an adopted member of the Starbom, should, too. But she could never manage it. She recalled mnning more than once out of the chamei house to vcMmt.

"Badgertail, who died?"

He shrugged, his gaze combing the mob. "Tharon will tell you."

Nightshade sucked in a deep breath when the great palisade appeared before them, tall, white, made of upright logs daubed with clay before fire-hardening. The walls towered twenty-five hands high and guarded the ceremonial centers and the houses of the Sunbom, Starbom, and other elite. Warriors manned the shooting platforms. Behind them, the tops of several mounds thmst up squarely against the purpling sky. Her gaze fixed on the tallest mound and its giant temple that seemed to slice Father Sky's belly. The building even dwarfed the high Spirit Pole, made of the tallest tree that had ever been found, and carved in the likeness of Bird-Man. Tharon would be waiting there, dressed in his finest clothing, wearing a magnificent headdress. Everything would be orchestrated for appearance and effect.

From this angle, the great temple glinmiered with a brazen glory. How well she remembered that huge building; it spread in a thousand-hand square and rose a hundred hands high, towering over everything and everyone. She could make out the carved effigies of Eagle, Deer, and Rattlesnake that perched atop the temple's high ridge pole. Even from here, she could see that they needed painting. The slate-blue gleam of dusk played like whips of fire in the copper amulets that adorned the monumental building's grass roof and walls. The Lakes People in the north exchanged nuggets of copper for chert hoe blades. Tharon's metal workers pounded the copper into thin sheets and turned them into jewelry and ornaments.

The huge mound and its stunning temple took a person's breath. All the Power in the world might have been here. For a single breath, she saw the temple through the eyes of the girl she had been twenty cycles ago, and it terrified her all over again. Oh, Bulrush, what's happened to me? My blood has gone as weak as an old woman's. I can't seem to face anything without you.

Nightshade squeezed her eyes closed to bolster her courage. When she opened them, she found Badgertail giving her a curious sideways glance. Did he know? Could he guess her anguish at walking this path as a captive for the second time in her life?

He hung his war club back on his belt and lifted a hand to signal the guards over the gate. While men scurried to obey, Badgertail took Nightshade's arm, leading her forward as his warriors regrouped into a crescent moon around them. The crowd pressed as close as it could, murmuring, standing on tiptoes to get a glimpse of the sacred space enclosed within the palisades—perhaps hoping to see the Sun Chief himself.

With a bang and a thump, the log gate slid back, revealing an L-shaped entry way. Badgertail clutched Jenos' head beneath his left arm as he pushed Nightshade through the entry, then waited while the warriors closed the gate. The beauty here eased something weary in his soul. Gardens encircled the bases of the mounds in pale-green fringes, while wreaths of smoke hovered near the sunmiits. The flickering glare from cook fires reflected on the smoke in ruddy patches.

Nightshade shook off Badgertail's restraining hand, and he met her eyes. They seemed to swirl and tug at a man, pulling him down into dark, frightening depths. When he couldn't bear it any longer, he let his gaze rise over the tangled mass of her still-damp hair and shift to the gatekeeper.

"Southwind, how is everything here?"

The short, stocky warrior gestured noncommittally. His clean warshirt hung to his knees and sported the face of a fox on the chest. "As well as can be expected after the events of last week. People have been staying inside for the most part, afraid to come out."