“Please try to think, Kestrel. Perhaps I’m wrong about Cloud Girl. Maybe there’s something you know, or do, that ties you to Power. It could be as simple as weaving nets or—”
She leaned toward him and put an urgent hand on his wrist. “I paint! The only times I feel Power moving through me, Sunchaser, are when I’m painting or dyeing. It must be that!”
His eyes rested on the thin fingers so cool and comforting on his wrist. Tomorrow he would try Dreaming again. He must, or his soul would shrivel to dust and blow away in the next gust of wind. Mammoth Above needed him to Dream, and he needed to Dream for her. He could sense her presence all around him, watching, supporting, trying to help him, though desperation clouded her hopes.
He wiped his sweating palm on his pant leg before he reached over to grip Kestrel’s hand. “Will you paint for me, Kestrel? I think I need you to very much.”
“It would give me great pleasure, but…” She squeezed his hand gently, and her brow furrowed. “Sunchaser, please tell me what you’re thinking about Cloud Girl. A few days ago, you said you thought you knew why we’d been drawn together. I didn’t ask you to explain at the time … I was too frightened to. What did you mean?”
He moved his fingers over the smooth, tanned skin of her hand, “Do your people in the marsh country know of the Steals Light People?”
“No. Who are they?”
“Special messengers of Above-Old-Man. They live on the roof of the world, the highest mountain peaks. The Power of Above-Old-Man enters our world through the hands of the Steals Light People. We—that is, my clan, the Steals Light Clan—keep small figurines of each of the Steals Light People in our home lodges to serve as portals for the real people’s Power. That way, the Steals Light People can speak to us, direct us, help us when we are sick or in trouble. But sometimes,” he said, stroking the top of her hand tenderly, “sometimes the People ride lightning bolts down from the roof of the world and walk among humans without anyone’s knowledge. They can even choose to enter a woman’s womb and be born again.”
Kestrel’s full lips parted as if to speak. Then she closed them, pondering. “You think she… that my little girl …”
“I don’t know,” he answered the unfinished question. “But she might be.”
“What would that mean?”
“It would mean that I’ve been given a very great gift.” He smiled sardonically. “And one that I haven’t the slightest idea of how to appreciate.”
Oxbalm studied the charcoal lines through narrowed eyes. They wove in and around, crossed over each other, backtracked. Some of them even shot outward from the body of the maze and tied themselves in intricate knots. Horror throbbed in his breast. All morning long, the Thunderbeings had been restless, angry. They crowded the skies, rumbling and throwing bolts of lightning about within the clouds. The scent of snow rode the breeze. Oxbalm had never liked Catchstraw, but he’d never thought the man capable of this. Especially not when they needed Sunchaser so badly.
Oxbalm started to rise, and Horseweed and Balsam took his arms, supporting him as he struggled to his feet. He patted their backs absently and studied the top of the hill where the village sat. He had asked Catchstraw to help Sumac design the lodge paintings—to keep him busy while Oxbalm investigated Horseweed’s whispered accusations. Not that he had doubted his grandson. He hadn’t. But such things required delicacy, corroboration and great courage.
A few red star bursts and two wavy blue lines decorated the exterior of the lodges… but little else had been done. Had Sumac been designing the paintings herself, the lodges would have been finished by now, and beautifully.
Oxbalm let out a shuddering breath. “We must say nothing about this. Not to anyone. Not yet. Do you both understand?”
Balsam nodded and bit his lip.
Horseweed shivered, rubbing his arms with nervous hands. “Yes, Grandfather. But how long can we wait before we take action? We can’t let this go on.”
Oxbalm gazed up into that boyish face with the dark eyes and saw a man looking back, a deeply worried man. “No. We can’t. But remember, he has followers. And they all know that I don’t like him. We must wait for an opening before we accuse him. Witchcraft is very dangerous, frightening. A rash action, or one too soon, could bring terrible disaster down on us.”
“How long, Grandfather? How long can Sunchaser wait?”
Oxbalm shook his head. “Only Mammoth Above knows the answer to that question. We must pray that Sunchaser has been able to fend off this monstrous attack.”