“You have done all this?” Pale Cat asked incredulously. “By yourselves?”
“Well,” Old White growled, “Smoke Shield sure wouldn’t have been any help.”
“But,” Heron Wing asked, “how can you make a peace with the Chahta? Not even the Council knows what you’ve done!”
Pale Cat had stiffened. “By what authority do you meddle in our affairs, Seeker?”
Old White gave him a hard look. “Hopaye, Power has sent me from one end of the world to the other. It called me here from the western deserts. It took me to the Contrary, and to Green Snake. Oh, I promise, when the time comes, you’ll get more explanation than you’ll want.”
“I give us the right,” Trader said softly. He raised his eyes to Pale Cat. “I am Chief Clan, from the high minko’s line. Smoke Shield must be stopped. Power has been abused. The Yuchi messenger, the murdered Albaamaha—that is only the beginning of it.”
“I side with them, Brother.” Heron Wing’s voice left no doubt.
Pale Cat turned veiled eyes on Heron Wing. “Sister, I would hope that the love you so poorly disguise when you look at Green Snake hasn’t tempered your wits.” He glanced up, studying both Old White and Trader. “I, too, serve Power. I also serve my people, and would not see them led into disaster.” He clapped his hands on his thighs. “So, if you have some plan to mollify Great Cougar, perhaps now is the time to convince me why I should trust you?”
Trader shrugged. “We have some ideas.”
“Such as?” Pale Cat asked coldly.
“Old Woman Fox gave us the idea, actually.” Old White took a moment to swallow the last of his stew. “According to her, you took the White Arrow Town war medicine. Is that correct?”
“It is,” Pale Cat said softly, “but that’s not something the warriors are going to let you just give back.”
Trader turned his gaze on Old White. “He’s got a point.”
Old White ran his finger around the inside of his bowl before he licked it clean. “After all we’ve been through, you’re worried about a bunch of possessive warriors?”
“I don’t believe I’m hearing this!” Heron Wing looked stunned. “If you take the White Arrow war medicine, the warriors will be enraged. Smoke Shield will be livid!”
“See!” Old White grinned happily. “There’s another benefit.”
Trader enjoyed their shocked expressions. “Power won’t let us down now.”
Pale Cat’s voice hardened. “Power, my friends, is leading you into a quick grave.”
Old White spread his hands. “Trust us, Hopaye. We still have a few tricks in our bag.”
“And you know Smoke Shield,” Heron Wing shot back. “He is as cunning as a weasel, and twice as dangerous. If he can twist the truth out of your Contrary, you’ll be dead before you can bring any of this to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“Oh, yes,” Trader agreed. “I’m sure that he’s planning on paying me back for that blow I gave him.”
Old White had fixed his gaze on Pale Cat. “Tell me, Hopaye, how many warriors sleep in the Men’s House these days?”
Twenty-seven
Smoke Shield walked wearily through the palace great room, stopping only long enough to step over and run his fingers over the captured Yuchi relief of the warrior holding a severed head. “Soon, I shall own your people. Within days, the Prophet tells me, the Chahta will arrive. After I break them once and for all, I shall move north. The story your people tell about the severed head shall become ours. And there is nothing you can do about it.”
Then he turned, surprised that Flying Hawk was absent; but then, the old man knew his days were numbered. “And there is nothing you can do about it, either, Uncle.” Since the Prophet had promised that he’d see the old man weep, he’d been delighted with anticipation.
He entered the hallway and ducked into his room. She was waiting, a warm pot of water and folded cloths resting beside the fire. He stared into her dark eyes and said, “The palisade fell, just like you said it would.”
She nodded. “The vision is flowing so fast now. The Chahta are across the divide. Your warriors are moving. Power draws the weave tight.”
He looked down at himself, seeing soot and bits of debris. “I spent most of the day at the palisade. It is good for the people to see the man who will be their high minko acting like he should. We salvaged some of the logs and began clearing debris. The four-times-cursed Albaamaha were like geese, more interesting in squawking than working. You could see it in their eyes, as if they were heartened by the collapse of the palisade.”