People of the Thunder(125)
“That’s right. I want any of Great Cougar’s spies who might slip through to think we’re unprepared. He will see an unsuspecting city, our defenses collapsed and laid flat. In that last moment, the discipline of his warriors will break. They will charge forward expecting an easy slaughter . . . revenge for White Arrow Town. And then I shall hit them from each side. The surprise will be complete.”
“Your spy told you all this?”
“Some. The Prophet may know the future, but I know war.”
Flying Hawk nodded, a strange light in his eyes. “But . . . what about the Yuchi?”
Smoke Shield laughed. “Power will warn me. The Prophet will tell me the way to smash the Yuchi. And after I demonstrate my leadership by breaking the Chahta, my warriors will follow me to the ends of the earth!”
As he sat before his house, Trader ran the shaft of his new chunkey lance through his hands, feeling irregularities in the wood. Then he reached down for the damp piece of hide. He’d dabbed it on a bowl of finely sifted sand. Wrapping the sand-impregnated hide around the shaft, he began laboriously running it up and down the wood, smoothing and shaping.
“We have more than enough to worry about as it is,” Old White said mildly. “Do I need to remind you that the last person Two Petals was seen talking to was Smoke Shield? I don’t need to tell you how the Chikosi feel about a married woman bedding any man she’s not supposed to.”
“I said, leave it be.”
Old White sighed before he looked down at Swimmer. “Your master could kill us all.”
Swimmer thumped his tail in reply, then dove for his stick, figuring that any attention was an open invitation.
Trader growled under his breath, then added, “Last night was a miracle, a Dream. I would not Trade that for anything.”
Old White tossed the stick. “Just don’t forget who she’s married to.” He watched the dog charge off, catch the stick on a bounce, and come trotting back. “Hang it, where is Paunch?”
“Maybe the Albaamaha mikkos delayed the meeting?” Trader lifted the lance, staring down its length with a practiced eye. “One of them might be late getting here. Even if equinox is tomorrow.”
“Paunch should have at least come and told us that it was postponed.”
A female voice spoke in accented Mos’kogee. “They refused to let him come for you.”
Trader glanced up and stared. “Whippoorwill?”
The slim woman rounded the corner of their house, her long hair shining. She wore a clean brown dress belted at her narrow waist. Her feet were clad in moccasins, and she carried a fabric pack over one shoulder. Slim brown fingers clutched the strap. Whatever the pack contained, it wasn’t very heavy, but bulky, with irregular knobs and lumps sticking out here and there.
She walked up, cocking her head, and Trader almost shivered at the sight of those knowing dark eyes. “My sister sent me. Come.”
“Your sister?” Old White asked.
“The Contrary. She’s busy. If you still wish to address the mikkos, you must come with me.”
“Why are you doing this?” Old White asked.
“Because Power is battling over the future. I am on the side of my people.”
Trader reached for his war club while Old White grabbed up his pouch of herbs. After giving the reluctant Swimmer a stern order to stay, they hurried after the girl.
“They wouldn’t let Paunch come?” Old White asked.
“Lotus Root and her people don’t trust you.”
Trader kept shooting glances at the woman. Whippoorwill seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she’d vanished in the night after coupling with him on a distant river.
“Where have you been?” Trader demanded.
She gave him an eerie glance. “Where I needed to be.”
Shaking his head, Trader was aware of Old White’s prying look. But the Seeker held his peace as they threaded their way through houses. They skirted around the plaza where people were congregating in expectation of a stickball game between Thunder and High Towns. Walking wide of the crowd, they exited the south gate. Whippoorwill, Trader noticed, walked with an airy grace. She almost seemed to float as she led them serenely through the Albaamaha village and down a slight rise to a large Council House.
There, two burly Albaamaha stepped forward to bar their progress. Trader recognized both men from the night at Amber Bead’s. “No one may pass. This is Albaamaha business.”
“Power calls them,” Whippoorwill said, as if that were explanation enough.
“I said, woman, that no one will pass.”
Old White stepped forward, withdrawing his hand from his large belt pouch. “We would speak with the mikkos.”