“Words are reflections. Like images in water. Air is drawn in, and the souls re-form it into words, into the shapes that suit them. So many are wasted, all carrying patterns and designs drawn by the souls. Where do those wasted words go? What finally hears them?”
“Who sent you here? What is your name?”
“Power sent me. I am Two Petals.”
“You speak with an atrocious accent.”
“Those are the flavors of my souls.”
“And do my souls have flavors?”
“Of course.”
He grunted, reaching out to clasp her throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “Are you a spy?”
She swallowed through the restriction of his grip, fear tingling in her chest. “I already know your plans, Smoke Shield. I have Dreamed it all. The march to the north, the attack on the Chahta. It is all for naught.”
His hard black eyes burned into hers; then his voice dropped to a deadly murmur. “How do you know about that?”
“Because Power has sent me to tell you the future.”
“And you expect me to believe you know the future?” His laughter was filled with danger.
“What Power sends, you would spurn? Oh, no, great High Minko. You’ll never win that way.”
“All right, until I crush your throat, I’ll play your little game. What way will I win?”
“Great Cougar outthinks you. He comes with the first equinox moon.”
Smoke Shield shifted, his eyes sharpening. “And where did you hear that?”
“I have Dreamed it all. Wait, my lover, and you shall see. When the Council is called after the great wind, you must be there. The only way to achieve your destiny is by denouncing Green Snake. Then, the Council will know the kind of man your brother really is. On that day, you shall seize a wondrous wealth, take it into your hands, and hold it close to your heart.”
His eyes had narrowed. “What great wind?”
“The one that will topple the palisade.” She laughed as his grip on her throat relaxed.
“You expect me to believe the palisade will fall in a wind?”
“It will.”
“And this wealth?”
“Copper. Gleaming, beautiful copper. A piece that will make you the richest man in the world.”
“You, I think, are a mad fool!”
“You still do not believe I am sent by Power? That I have seen the future? Challenge Blood Skull to chunkey tomorrow. You will win by three points. In the afternoon, a house in the Deer Clan Grounds will catch fire. A great panic will ensue before they put it out.”
She watched the disbelief growing in his eyes.
“Wait, High Minko. You will see. But in the meantime, let us coax this fallen tree of yours into life again. You won’t need that much energy to beat Blood Skull by three.”
She thrilled as her fingers slowly conjured one more response from his depleted loins. As he slid into her sheath, she felt the Power swelling, the past sliding away, the future flowing down around her.
“If you are wrong,” he whispered into her ear, “I shall hang your pretty body in the square. That stone sword you polluted with your woman’s touch will one day slide into your heart the way my shaft now fills your sheath.”
In her future vision she saw it, just the way he said. Could almost feel the stinging pain as the cold stone sliced through the flesh below her breastbone. Oh yes, it would happen just like that if Power turned suddenly capricious.
For an instant, she thought of Trader and Old White, and a cry of sympathy echoed hollowly within.
I am sorry, old friends. But this is the way it must be.
Trader and Old White sat in the shade of Heron Wing’s ramada. Another search of the city, begun at dawn, had produced no sign of Two Petals. Somehow, they had ended up here, as if Trader would have been drawn anywhere else.
Morning Dew sat beside him, her firm fingers working cattail-root flour into dough. Swimmer sat, ears cocked, taking in every movement of her hands, absolutely delighted when she tossed up small bits for him to snap out of the air.
Two men walked out to the chunkey court, each dressed in a breechcloth. Sunlight glinted from their lances, and both removed stones from leather bags.
“Think I could go play?” Trader asked.
“Not without drawing too much attention to yourself.” Old White stared across the distance at the men. “I should have thought to bring my pipe.”
Morning Dew squinted, face pinched. “Blood Skull and Smoke Shield.” She glanced at Trader as he straightened, his expression hardening.
“So, there he is.”
“There he is,” she agreed.
“Too bad you can’t just play chunkey with him,” Old White noted. “We could end this and live fat and sassy forever.”