People of the River(95)

Redhaw shook her head violently, while Sandbar's wrinkled mouth pursed. Checkerberry didn't even seem to have heard the argument; she gazed fixedly at the toe of her sandal.

Green Ash's heart went out to her aunt. It wasn't Checkerberry's fault. Her soul seemed to hover half in her body and half out, as though it thirsted to leave, to travel down the Dark River and fmd her family again. It made Green Ash frantic. She loved her aunt, but she didn't know what to do to ease Checkerberry's distress. And I'm not sure she's wrong. Perhaps Nightshade is to blame for some of our problems. Not all, but . . .

"So you want to join Petaga?" Redhaw asked, glaring at Tickseed.

"It will have to be a unanimous decision by the clans,"

Tickseed replied cautiously. "Tharon will have to accept anything we decide here tonight—as long as we all agree to the same decision. What warrior—even Badgertail—will leave on a battle-walk if his clan tells him not to? Where will Tharon find men and women willing to empty our storage buildings if we tell our people not to? Nowhere! That's where. Our people owe their km before they owe the Sunbom."

"That's true," Sandbar muttered, waving a withered hand. "We know our power here. Go on with what you were going to say."

Tickseed steepled her fingers, choosing her words carefully. "I think we should consider all of the alternatives. The Sun Chief did not consult us last cycle before he decided to attack our sister villages—where we have kinl Remember, elders? For generations, we've been marrying our men off to those very villages! Now we're killing them! Yes, think back to the old days ... to the great and wise Keran. Keran would have asked us before he even thought about ordering an attack. Gizis would have talked it over with us after he'd thought about it. Today our men—our sons—are dead from arrows made at Cahokia." Tickseed paused. "I think we've seen the beginning of something unbearable."

Sandbar fingered her lumpy nose in thought. "Yes. I think Tickseed is right. We should watch and consider. Let us wait to see what happens between Badgertail and Petaga. Then, if—"

"Traitors!" Redhaw snarled. She stood up on tottering legs. The galena beads on her dress shimmered in the firehght as she lifted a fist high over her head. "The Deer Bone Rattle Clan will be no part of plotting against the Sun Chief! I have spoken!"

She tramped away into the night, the six delegates of her clan following behind.

"Wait!" Primrose shouted as he leaped to his feet to run after them. "Wait, please! No one here is suggesting treason. Come back! Redhaw!"

Green Ash stole a glance at Nettle. He had closed his eyes in agony.





Twenty


Wanderer stretched out on his side and gazed across the room at Lichen. He had been dehberately waking himself every few fingers of time to make certain that she was all right. When she had first crawled under her blankets, she'd been afraid that the monsters of the Underworld might rise up from the darkness and capture her soul.

Hot wind seeped through the window, rocking and spinning the eagle-feather prayer fans Wanderer had hung with such care over her bed. Lichen lay curled securely beneath them, her body illuminated in a shaft of starlight.

The Power symbols on the walls observed in silence, pensive, uncertain about Lichen now. She had gone far beyond their expectations. Wanderer could sense the awe of the Spirals, and he knew how they felt.

The starlight had tipped Lichen's long lashes in silver and flowed into the twists of braid that fell over her bare shoulder.

Oh, how he loved that child. He had always wondered what it would be like to be her father, not just her friend. But he'd never conceived of this joy. Every time she gave him one of those wry, reproachful looks that said. Wanderer, you're not serious, are you? his soul soared. When her brows drew together and she listened to him as breathlessly as if he knew more than Earthmaker—well. Wanderer didn't know what to do. It left an uncomfortable tickle at the base of his throat. How did parents handle that? Such unwavering trust made him feel as though he carried a frail pot in his trembling hands, a vessel that he dare not break. Lichen demanded more of Wanderer's soul than he'd ever had to give to anyone or anything . . . except to Power.

It frightened him.

The call of Power eddied at the edges of his soul, reminding him that he had been neglecting his own Dreaming.

I haven't forgotten you. It's just that she needs me more right now.

Great Deer's hooves twinkled through the window. The Ogre perched upside down on his nose, his feet in thin air. Wanderer smiled. How did the Ogres do that—^tilt themselves into such awkward positions? He would have to see if he could manage it sometime. His thoughts drifted, contemplating all of the rocky places where he might be able to string the necessary ropes.