People of the Thunder(107)

“Smoke Shield,” she said softly. “He hated his brother, envied him, and took everything he ever had.”

“How do you feel about Green Snake?”

“I will never forgive him.”

“For what?”

“Not taking me with him.”





Twenty-one


A long peeling rolled up from under the sharp chert blade, exposing white and straight-grained wood. Trader studied the wooden shaft he worked on. It was good white ash and straight as a stretched cord. He would have preferred to find his own; but this one looked perfect, and he’d Traded for it with a single freshwater pearl.

He lifted the shaft, testing the balance. A great deal of work lay ahead of him.

Thank the Spirits for that. His troubled souls were going to need the time, and working wood was as good a way to think things through as any.

Smoke Shield is my brother. I gave up everything, for nothing. He slowly shook his head, heart mired by the sadness and injustice of it all. Another of the thin peelings rose from the chert blade.

It felt like being robbed—a great hollow had opened inside.

I was a fool.

For that, he would never forgive himself.

The anger drove him to snap the stone in half. He closed his eyes. Stop. Take a moment, and think.

He laid his shaft aside, and stood, looking up at the sun, now high in the sky. Around him the city teemed with activity, smoke blowing on the breeze, midday light casting shadows from the thatched roofs. He could hear talk, the thumping of the pestles in mortars, and chopping as someone took an adze to wood.

He stepped into the house and walked to the back, to rummage through his packs for a chert blank. This was good tool stone from the lands south of Cahokia. He studied the piece in the dim light, searching the milky gray chert for flaws. Finding none, he walked to the door, stepped out, and froze.

She sat on the log, back bent, elbows resting on her knees as she squinted up at the sun. Her long hair was free, the wealth of it falling down her back. She wore a bright blue dress belted at the waist with a strip of alligator hide. Her wide cheeks were smooth in the light, a serenity reflected in the set of her lips.

His knees went weak, his heart hammering at the bottom of his throat. The endless longing came welling up within him, almost suffocating. The world seemed to stop, to stretch into this one endless moment. He had to blink to ensure this wasn’t a trick, some phantom conjured by his endless longing.

“I would like you to sit,” she said gently. “It would be easiest if you continued to work on your chunkey lance. Nothing must be said in a hurry. It is a good day to just enjoy the sun, and live for this moment alone.”

He swallowed hard, and tried to still his frantically beating heart. Desperate joy—fit to burst his chest—wavered with a consuming and terrible fear.

What if she hates me? How could I stand that?

She shot him a single, pleading glance, as though she, too, were on the verge of fleeing.

In the confusion of hope and fear, it took all of his will to step over and lower himself to the log. He fought the desperate urge to reach out, touch her. From her delicate scent, he knew that she’d washed her hair in water scented with redbud flowers.

When he lifted his small antler tine to chip a sharp edge on the stone, his hands shook.

“How . . . How did you know I was here?” His voice came out choked.

“Old White came to Trade some sort of tooth thing for Morning Dew.”

His mouth had gone dry. He just kept gripping the stone as if it alone in the world was real. “I—I don’t know what to say. So . . . many things . . .”

“Then say nothing.” She shifted slightly, her face still to the sun. “Old White said that you had just learned about Smoke Shield.”

He nodded.

“I wish you’d killed him that night. It would have made everything so much easier.”

“He’s your . . . husband.”

“Clan marriage.” Her hand flicked in a tormented gesture. “People . . . People do some very stupid things when their souls are wounded and bleeding. They let their grief carry them into terrible mistakes. When a person is young, she can’t see past the confusion. I didn’t. You didn’t. We just act, Green Snake. Then, for the rest of our lives, there are the consequences.” A fragile smile crossed her lips. “But then, here I sit, so perhaps I am no smarter now than I was then.”

He tried to still the churning in his souls. “I have Dreamed of you . . . every night.”

“Why didn’t you ask me to go with you that night?”

“I thought . . . thought you’d hate me.”

“Hate you?” she cried, blinking back tears. “I loved you with all my heart!”