People of the Thunder(102)

“People didn’t talk much,” Trader added. “At least not when I was around. But I did hear enough to know that while they missed Bear Tooth as war chief, not many missed him as a man.”

“And your mother?” Old White asked. “What happened to her?”

“Childbirth. After my brother and I were born, the bleeding didn’t stop. The story is that we were both large, the birth difficult. I came first, my brother sometime later.”

“Did you ever hear what the fight was about? The one where Flying Hawk killed his brother?”

“A buffalo.” Trader looked up as they slowed before the gate. A yawning warrior stood there, almost weaving on his feet.

“A buffalo?”

“Buffalo are rare in this country. They were both hunting, so the story goes, and both shot it at the same time. By the time the animal died, they had shot their quivers empty. Somehow they got into it over who had actually killed the buffalo. It turned to blows, and as they were rolling around on the ground, Flying Hawk picked up a handy rock and brained his brother. He has punished himself ever since.”

“The passions people can get themselves into.” They nodded at the guard, reaching back to pull Two Petals after them. She was staring at empty space over the warrior’s head, whispering about the fireflies.

Since it was too early in the year for fireflies, and since the guard—who didn’t speak Trade Tongue—didn’t know what she was saying, it was easier to simply pull her away than explain why she wasn’t a witch.

“I’m starting to have a passion of my own: Smoke Shield. Who is he?” Trader racked his brain. “I have gone through all of the cousins I can think of. Obviously he took a man’s name that I don’t recognize. Is he someone from one of the outlying towns? A boy I never met, or only heard of and have forgotten after all these years?”

“Close,” Two Petals whispered, turning her intense eyes on him. Her lips had parted in anticipation. “The truth Dances around like wind-whipped leaves.”

Old White shot her an irritated look. “I’ve asked around . . . subtle questions.” Then he said softly, “Trader, I think he’s your brother.”

Trader gave him a hard look. “If that’s a joke, it’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

Trader felt his heart skip. “Gods, you’re serious?”

“Don’t do anything rash. Think this through before you go pounding off to kill him again.”

Trader blinked, refusing to believe. “I hit him hard, Seeker. Crushed the side of his face. He wasn’t moving, not even breathing. His eyes were fixed.”

“Or so you thought.”

“What do you mean, thought! I was there!”

“You told me it was the middle of the night. How well could you see? The man known as Smoke Shield is Flying Hawk’s nephew. He hovered near death for four days after his brother hit him with a war club and fled into the night.” Old White pointed a hard finger. “You have been punishing yourself for years for something you didn’t do.”

Trader stared, his souls reeling. But when he glanced at Two Petals, he could see the truth of it in her eyes, in the eager expression on her face.

He stood, wavering on his feet. Rattle isn’t dead. I didn’t kill my brother.

The first hot trickle of a tear slipped down his face.





Twenty


Two Petals watched her feet as she walked down to the canoe landing. She was hardly aware of the few Traders who cooked over blue-smoking fires beneath the ramadas. They watched her with only mild interest, their attention on the fish, clams, and breads that they cooked.

She didn’t return the stare. No, her eyes were fixed on her feet.

Steps were a marvel. Each time one of her feet touched the earth, it was contact, a distinct moment in time. Like the beating of her heart, it marked that one instant of existence. Looking back in the damp ground, she could see the smudges where her moccasins had marked the earth.

Carefully, she stepped backward, placing her foot just so, shifting her balance to the position she had once held.

Why does time not move backward with me? Why can’t I retrieve that moment in the past?

It puzzled her, because in the Dream, she had seen all of this unfold. Lived it backward.

“The rules of the souls differ from those of the flesh,” one of the voices told her.

She had ceased to look around for the sources of those disembodied speakers. Better to just accept them. She didn’t need that confusion, not now that all of the threads were so closely woven. All that remained was for Power to pull the weave tight.

When her souls looked into a future that was her Dream past, she could see it all rushing toward her.