People of the Thunder(109)

He glanced over his shoulder at the high minko’s palace atop its mound. Somehow, it had all started there with death and fire, setting the waves of the future in motion. It had led to murder and attempted murder among brothers, to passions that even now burned so bitterly in human souls.

But who plays for which Power? That he could only wonder. And, finally, what were the stakes? And who would gain in the end?

He chuckled nervously to himself, sensing the coming climax. He could feel it—a tension in the very air around him. Was it his imagination, or did the city seem to wait, anticipating the final confrontation?

He shook himself free of the foreboding. When Power was involved, something had to be sacrificed as an offering. And, were that the case now, what was demanded? A life? Someone’s happiness? Did the red Power of Raven Hunter demand additional chaos and strife, or was Wolf Dreamer’s white Power the force that needed appeasement?

Let it be me, he pleaded. He was old, tired of the burden he’d carried over so many trails, from one end of his earth to the other. I have done your bidding, waiting for my time to atone.

He passed around the head of the sheer-walled ravine that separated the Skunk Clan palace from the high minko’s. The walls were almost vertical, having been dug out, the earth carried to build the high mound and to create a defensive barrier too steep to be stormed by warriors attacking from the river. In that narrow defile, a literal rain of arrows could be directed down on any hostile forces.

That was the way of men: the needs of war constantly in balance with the desires for peace.

In contrast, he would remember the glow in Heron Wing’s face when she had returned from Trader’s. The effect had been as if she’d shed the weight of the ten hard winters since Trader’s disappearance. The woman had literally beamed with joy and anticipation, her steps airy.

Could that be the trap awaiting us? Is that the fatal flaw Smoke Shield’s Power has bet on? The ramifications of Trader and Heron Wing being exposed were too painful to think about. Smoke Shield would strike with rage and merciless efficiency.

“Gods,” he whispered. “Love is our weakness here.”

But it was too late to step back. Trader and Heron Wing had met, each assured that their passion burned just as brightly as it had those long winters ago.

“You could kill us all,” he muttered unhappily.

He rounded the Skunk Clan mound and picked his way through the houses. If Smoke Shield hadn’t hesitated to kill a messenger under the protection of a white arrow, would he even pause at the notion of murdering his brother?

He rounded the corner of their house to find Trader seated on his log. The partially formed chunkey lance lay across his lap, forgotten, as Trader stared blissfully up at the sun. He seemed to radiate joy.

For the moment Old White watched him, emotions torn. What did I miss in life that I never loved like that?

He considered the women he had known: the Forest Witch, Silver Loon, and all the others. Oh, his passion for them had burned brightly at first, a consuming fire that had roared into an inferno so hot it had scorched them both, only to fade into ashes as the fuel was spent.

Prodding himself forward, he walked up and settled wearily on the log. “So, she came.”

“She came.” Trader sounded Dreamy.

“I don’t suppose I need to remind you that she’s a married woman.”

Trader shot him a sour look.

Old White nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He rubbed his bony shins. “Well, when the time comes, given your influence with the woman, she’ll Trade us Morning Dew.” He chuckled. “She’s a sharp one. An excellent Trader. She’s going to hold out for all the advantage she can get. I think, in the long run, she’s going to be more concerned with long-term benefits to her people than all that Trade Old Woman Fox sent.”

Trader grunted noncommittally.

Old White shot a glance at their doorway. “Given your lack of concern, Two Petals must have returned.”

Trader’s rapture finally cracked. “You didn’t find her?”

“No.” Old White felt the first premonition. “No one even mentioned her. I thought surely she’d be back by now.”

Trader’s smile faded. “Did you ask Heron Wing about her?”

Old White made a face. “For some reason her mind was on other things.”

Trader shook his head. “It’s not like her to be gone this long. Something’s wrong. Let’s go find her. You take the Old Camp side; I’ll search the Hickory half.”

Old White sighed. The day had already worn him out. The notion of searching up and down through half of Split Sky City was dismal. He hitched himself to his feet. “Meet back here just after dark. It shouldn’t take that long. A Contrary usually generates a lot of attention. Just head toward the center of panic.”