“Your Dreams will wrap around me all night long,” she promised. “I will Dance, stepping lightly around your souls. You will take me, over and over, that I promise.”
His grin spread. “Smart woman. I shall Trade a great deal if you are as talented as you think you are.” Then he turned, muscles bunching as he started up the canoe landing, resuming his run.
“Oh, what a Trade you will make, my lover.”
“We’ve got to hurry!” Stone pleaded. He stood in the doorway, his stickball racquets in his hands. “Morning Dew”—his voice rose to a pitch—“they’ll be waiting!”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” She reached down, using a stick to rearrange the coals around the base of a pot. The body of a duck floated in the water, along with bits of sassafras root, wild licorice, and large chunks of lotus root. She looked up at Heron Wing. “Don’t let this boil over. You know how foamy lotus root gets.”
“I won’t.” She waved her away. “Go on. You’ll have more than one frantic little boy if you’re late.” She chuckled to herself as Morning Dew picked up her racquets and ducked out the doorway.
Heron Wing sighed. I am going to miss her when she finally goes.
She shot a measuring look at the duck in its pot. Not even steaming yet. She turned, replacing Stone’s things. Why did little boys scatter so much in the simple act of preparing for a stickball game?
“Lady?” a pleasant voice called from beyond the door. “Would you have time for a word?”
“Clan politics? Marriage counseling? A property dispute? What is it this time?”
“Trade,” the man said.
Trade? That was a curious switch. “Enter. Unless you would prefer I step out.” Some men were hesitant about being seen in a married woman’s house. Their wives tended to get the wrong idea.
He ducked inside, and she turned, seeing a tall, white-haired man, his hair pulled up in a tight bun and pinned with a copper arrow. His ears drew her immediate attention. The lobes had never been pierced and stretched for ear spools. His face sported no tattoos to designate clan or people. Despite his age, he was well muscled, fit looking. But for his weather-beaten face she’d have placed him in his midforties. The face made him look sixty. He wore a heavy fabric shirt, done in odd zigzag patterns she’d never seen before. It was belted at the waist, from which hung a large pouch.
He studied her with kindly eyes, as if taking her measure. She lifted a no-nonsense eyebrow.
Then he glanced around the room, his gaze stopping on the raccoon bowl. He stepped over to it, running a gentle finger along its smooth curve.
“Quite a bowl,” he said.
“Supposedly it’s from up north. Made by a tribe called the Illinois. It was then Traded to the Yuchi by a man named Green Snake. One of our northern Traders obtained it from them.”
“Things do get around,” the man noted dryly. Then he looked at her. “You are Heron Wing?”
“I am. And you are?”
“I am known as Old White.”
“I see, Old White. And what did you want of me?”
“Trade,” he said reasonably. Then he frowned at the bowl. “Green Snake? The Trader?”
“Yes,” she snapped, stepping over and protectively tucking the bowl under her arm.
He gave her an amused look. “What would you take for that bowl?”
“It is not for Trade.” She felt herself begin to bristle. “Did you want something? If not, I have a busy day to attend to.”
He chuckled. “Oh, the ways of Power.”
She hadn’t expected that. “Power?”
“How do you know Green Snake?”
Was it just her, or was he teasing her? “From a long time ago.”
Then the man sat down, almost sprawling, as if he owned the place. His eyes settled on the duck. “That looks like it is going to be delicious.”
“Perhaps you should take your Trade elsewhere.” She arched her back, nodding toward the door.
“Were I to do that,” he said softly, “you would learn nothing more about Green Snake, the ways of Power, or the curious twists of fate.”
She felt her tension drain away to leave confusion. “Who are you?”
He glanced toward the door, saying, “Before I answer that, tell me, will Smoke Shield be back anytime soon?”
“No!” The anger was back. Old White seemed to read her souls like tracks in mud. She flushed. “I think you should go.”
“Actually, I came to offer Trade for the woman known as Morning Dew.” He paused, adding sincerely, “And I must confess to being slightly curious as well.”