People of the Thunder(11)

Trader turned his attention back to the ornate box and ran the pad of his index finger along the shape of a human hand that had been carved into the lid. He meticulously traced the outline of the extended fingers and thumb. Fingernails and knuckles were defined, and anatomically correct. What drew attention, however, was the large rendition of a human eye that had been carved in the palm’s center. Faded white paint marked the sclera. The brown iris had been inlaid with shell, the pupil a single staring orb of copper. The carving dominated the top of the box. It was surrounded by the interlacing patterns of lines Mos’kogean peoples used to indicate the boundaries of the sky and home of the four winds.

“Which one of my beliefs do you think is crazy, Swimmer?” Trader glanced down at the dog and raised an eyebrow.

Swimmer’s furry white-tipped tail batted the matting.

From the doorway a voice called in Trade Tongue, “Some would say that any man who talks incessantly to a dog is missing most of the kernels off his corncob.”

Swimmer immediately jumped to his feet, racing off to welcome the man who entered. Born-of-Sun Mankiller—the bahle gibidane, or high chief of the western Yuchi, or Tsoyaha, in their own language—was tall, muscular, having seen but twenty-five winters. The man’s eyes were tattooed in the familiar forked-eye design, and he wore a striking white apron, the tip of it hanging suggestively down between his knees. In his right hand was a stone mace, its top ground into the shape of a turkey tail—the age-old symbol of authority. Polished copper ear spools gleamed in his enlarged earlobes. A beaded forelock hung down the center of his forehead.

“High Chief,” Trader called in greeting as he watched the newcomer bend down and ruffle Swimmer’s ears. The dog barked happily, causing Trader to order, “No barks, Swimmer. People are sleeping. It’s late.”

“It’s all right,” Born-of-Sun rejoined. “Who is going to chastise me, of all people?”

“The Kala Hi’ki?” Trader suggested, jerking a nod toward the dark hallway that led to the Yuchi High Priest’s room.

Born-of-Sun warily eyed the passage. “Yes, well, I suppose it is a wise high chief who treads carefully in the presence of a Powerful man like the Kala Hi’ki.” He glanced down. “We’ll have to be quiet, Swimmer. But you and I, we will bark later. Maybe outside where we can annoy half of Rainbow City.”

The dog yawned, stretching out his front legs, tail swishing happily.

Trader chuckled. “Sometimes, High Chief, I think you would rather be a child than the great leader of the Yuchi.”

“How right you are.” Born-of-Sun walked over, eyes on the carved and inlaid box before Trader. “The Sky Hand war medicine box.” He paused, head cocked. “And inside is no doubt the wondrous copper that I have heard tell of.”

Trader gave a faint nod, his fingers still tracing the patterns in the wood. “My people lost this war medicine box long before I was born. I think the Seeker knows more about it than he has told me. I can see it in his eyes, a wistful longing, tinged by a sense of wonder. That it came to me at all is a surprise. Something Power has wagered on.”

Born-of-Sun settled himself on the split-cane matting beside Trader and patted the floor to entice Swimmer to lie beside him. “I would hear that story, Trader. From start to finish. Where did you obtain the copper? And how? A piece like that . . . you must have sneaked it out of some great chief’s palace. And the war medicine? What prompted the Kaskinampo to give you, a passing Trader, such a Powerful object?”

“Give?” Trader asked with a chuckle. “Hardly a gift, High Chief. I Traded for the war medicine, and for a wealth in . . .” He paused. “But you want the whole story? From the start to the finish?”

“I would hear it.”

Trader fingered the carved ripples in the wood. “And see the copper, too, I suppose?”

“Curiosity is eating at me like a thing alive.”

Trader reached down, untying the thick leather straps that both secured the war medicine box and served as shoulder straps, allowing a man to carry it like a pack. Carefully, he lifted the fitted lid, allowing Born-of-Sun to see the cloth-wrapped square that fit so neatly into the interior.

Trader tilted the box, allowing the heavy slab of copper to thump onto the mat-covered clay floor. Setting the box to one side, his muscles bunched under smooth skin as he upended the heavy slab and slid the cloth sack from the green-streaked metal. In places where he and Old White had used stones to shape the metal, the copper gleamed with a wicked reddish color.

“By Blessed Tso, our Mother, I have never seen such a thing!” Born-of-Sun reached out and ran his hands over the cool metal. “It’s one solid slab!” He shook his head. “How did you come by it, Trader? A chief would guard such a thing with a horde of warriors. It would rest in the most sacred center of a temple, surrounded by many watchful—”