People of the Thunder(153)

“We know all this,” Flying Hawk complained.

“And you know about the night of the fire, too, don’t you?” Old White turned. “Do you remember how Bear Tooth used to fly into fits of rage?”

“Of course. He terrified us. Why Mother ever put up with it is beyond my understanding.”

“She did it because every time he beat her, she was punishing herself for her role in Makes War’s death. Don’t you understand? She loved that man, and blamed herself for his death.”

“Death is part of war.”

“Oh, to be sure.” Old White nodded. “But love has a Power all its own. Midnight Woman accepted Bear Tooth’s abuse because she believed deep down in her souls that she deserved it.”

“This is an old, old story. Who are you?”

“I am Old White, the man they call the Seeker. I have traveled from one end of our world to the other. Some say I’m a legend.” He could see a sharpening of interest among the chiefs. “But that distracts me from my story. The night of the great fire, a terrible wind was blowing—one even more fierce than the one that savaged this city at equinox. But in the palace, a greater storm was brewing. That night, Bear Tooth was enraged. Midnight Woman had told him that even she had finally had enough. She was moving her belongings to her sister’s. That would be Rose Bloom, wife of Tishu Minko Fighting Hawk, of the Raccoon Clan.”

He grinned at Flying Hawk’s growing skepticism. “Bear Tooth couldn’t stand the thought of it. The humiliation was too much for him. He’d known from the beginning that she was in love with a dead man—that every time he lay with her, she made love to Makes War’s ghost. That night the full wrath of his anger broke free.”

Old White looked down at the medicine box. “He beat her something fierce. Then he ripped the clothes from her body and took her on the matting. He slapped her, struck her, and finally choked the very air out of her lungs. That’s when Hickory stepped into the room. He could no longer stand seeing his mother treated that way.” He glanced at Flying Hawk. “Just after that he went to send you and Acorn away.”

“How do you know all this?” Flying Hawk asked. “Did you piece this all together from bits and pieces? Is this something you learned among the Traders?”

Smoke Shield pointed with a finger. “I’ve heard enough. The high minko has ordered you and this coward to leave Sky Hand country.”

“He can’t,” Old White said reasonably. “He has no authority over me.”

“You are sadly mistaken, Seeker,” Flying Hawk declared, a slow anger brewing behind the twitching muscles in his face. “If—of course—you’re really the man of legend.”

“Oh, I am indeed.” Old White paused, staring into Flying Hawk’s eyes. “But before that, I was known as Hickory, son of Midnight Woman of the Chief Clan. I was the one who went to your room that night, Grape. Don’t you remember when I pulled back the hanging and told you to run to Kosi Fighting Hawk’s?”

“Hickory is dead!” Flying Hawk gritted in a strangled voice.

“Did you find his body?” Old White asked calmly.

“There were bones everywhere! War trophies. Who could tell whose bones were whose?”

“You have no proof of any of this!” Smoke Shield bellowed as he paced belligerently back and forth.

Old White shook his head. “Such a sorry state of affairs you’ve led our people to.” His hand slipped into the heavy fabric sack hanging at his side. “You don’t even honor the return of your Ancestors’ war medicine. For that alone Power will condemn you.” From the sack, he withdrew a beautifully polished stone war club. It was a ceremonial piece, carved from solid rock; the handle was engraved with winged serpents; the Seeing Hand had been rendered on both sides of the monolith’s blade. “Wasn’t this missing from the burned wreckage, Grape?”

Flying Hawk’s face took on a look of awe. “Bear Tooth’s war ax! Gods, how did you get it?”

“I picked it up from where it stood propped on its special tripod beside the hearth.” Old White tightened his grip on its stone handle. “And I walked back, stepped into their room, and drove this blade into the back of Bear Tooth’s accursed head!”

Old White took a breath. The heavy ax shook in his grip. Slowly, he lowered it. “That is why you cannot order Green Snake from Sky Hand lands. You are not clan elder, Grape. I am!”





Thirty-one


Trader stood dumbfounded. Gods, even he had trouble believing it.

He saw Flying Hawk’s awe turn to disbelief. The man staggered backward, propping himself on the tripod. His eyes fixed on the polished black stone ax. “He would have killed you for touching that.”