Old White shot him an appraising glance. The Kala Hi’ki wasn’t easy on the eyes. As a young man he had been captured by the Sky Hand and hung in a square. The Chikosi had tortured him for days, burning his flesh, gouging out his eyes, severing the fingers from his right hand, and carefully slicing thin strips of skin away. They had even cut the nose from the man’s face, leaving two oblong nostrils.
How the Kala Hi’ki had escaped was a long and involved story. Aparently the Yuchi had been cut down by Trader’s brother. Rattle had meant to blame it on Trader, but never had the chance since Trader killed him with a war club. Once the Kala Hi’ki was free of the square, it was said that Horned Serpent carried him down into the depths of the Black Warrior River outside of Split Sky City. Horned Serpent then bore him to the Underworld, where it healed his wounds and finally left his broken body where other Yuchi could find him.
Hideously scarred, with a white cloth wrapped around his blind eyes, the Kala Hi’ki stood placidly, his good left hand clasping the mangled remains of his right. The two younger Priests took positions to either side, curious eyes on the still-assembling crowd.
“You know,” the Kala Hi’ki added, “that people cannot receive a gift without giving something back. Right now they will be happy to receive something from your winnings on the chunkey match; but after they take it away, guilt will begin to eat at them. Power must be balanced. As the line shortens, it will lengthen again.”
“This could take all day,” Trader said with a sigh.
Two Petals softly said, “Days are such funny things. How can one last so long and be so short?” Her eyes darted around as though searching for something just beyond her vision. Her hands twitched in oddly synchronous movements. “It is already done. See, just over there. All finished. Like standing here tomorrow afternoon. No one around.”
Old White arched a white eyebrow, but was happy to see that the two young Priests no longer started to fidget when the Contrary was speaking in riddles. He rubbed his old wrinkled face and checked to make sure that his gray-white hair was still pinned tightly in the bun at the back of his head.
No time at all? He sighed as he stared at the crowd, feeling each of his fifty-some winters. An ache lay deep in his bones, in the small of his back, and in the stiffness that had settled in his knees. What a thousand desert suns had done to brown his skin, another thousand freezing blizzards had finished. Endless high Plains winds had lined his face, only to have the creases chiseled deep by unforgiving ocean breezes. Northern snow fields had etched the corners of his eyes into a squint that had fixed under shimmering heat waves rolling off desert pavement.
“Thinking of the past?” the Kala Hi’ki asked.
“Always,” Old White replied. “All that a man is comes from the past. What he will be in the future is only a fantasy, a Dream.”
“You did not need to travel to the ends of the earth to learn that.”
“No.”
“And they call you the Seeker?” the Kala Hi’ki asked. “I find that to be a divine joke.”
Old White turned, fingering his Trader’s staff. “I don’t see the humor.”
When the Kala Hi’ki smiled, the effect on his maimed face was gruesome. “What do you carry in that heavy canvas bag hanging from your shoulder?”
Old White looked down at the travel-stained fabric bag. “My past, Kala Hi’ki.”
“It is a heavy burden to bear.”
“What does my past have to do with my name being a joke?” Old White asked warily.
“Because you weren’t seeking. You have always been driven.” The Kala Hi’ki’s ruined smile thinned. “You enjoy keeping the secrets of your past, Seeker. Whatever terrible thing you did, it has hounded you from one end of the earth to the other. And the harder you run to escape, the closer it barks at your heels.”
An eerie shiver ran through Old White. “For a blind man, you see just fine.”
“I am the Kala Hi’ki.” The Yuchi turned his sightless eyes toward Old White. “Horned Serpent gave me the gift of life . . . and sight.”
Old White swallowed hard, remembering the time the Kala Hi’ki had removed the bandage from his face. There, exposed in the firelight, were two large crystals—allegedly gifts from Horned Serpent—embedded in the sockets where the man’s eyes should have been.
“If you can see that well, you know why I keep secrets. If you don’t, explaining won’t sharpen your vision.”
The Kala Hi’ki nodded. “You are a stronger man than I, Seeker. I would rather hang on a square again than bear your burden.”