People of the Thunder(25)
“And will get me hung from one of their squares if the Chikosi hear of it.” He shook his head. “No, even if I could have done it, I wouldn’t. Listen. Understand. The Chikosi consider me to be an old, amenable fool. I make sure they think of me that way. No one suspects the old dog that sleeps by their door to be a wolf. If they blame me for the death of the prisoners, you will get some lackey appointed in my place that will lick their hands, and wag his tail at any Chikosi order that comes along.”
“Then why do you resist using Fast Legs against them?”
“I don’t. I just can’t figure a way to do it right now without getting our people killed.” He looked at the perplexed young man. “Don’t you see? We need them weakened before we strike.”
“Our Albaamaha could take Bowl Town in a single night. We outnumber them. All we have to do is sneak in, unlatch the gate, and kill them in their houses.”
“You have planned this?”
Bull Fish nodded. “All we need is approval from the mikkos. And when enough people have heard Lotus Root’s story about how Red Awl was killed, we will have it.”
By the Ancestors’ bones, the man was right. They probably could take Bowl Town. Red Awl had been a respected man there. But what about Wind Town? Chief Buffalo Killer and his Albaamaha depended on each other. How many would side with the rebels? Yes, the Albaamaha could take towns up and down the river, but how could they crack Split Sky City’s hard shell? The fact was, they couldn’t.
How do I buy time? “Your people are committed to this?”
“We are.”
Amber Bead broke out in bitter laughter.
“What do you think is so funny?”
“I have waited all of my life to see our people united against the Chikosi. And now, when the gods have finally granted me my wish, it is at the worst time possible. The joke is a cruel one.”
“I see no joke here. We have the means to destroy the Chikosi.”
Time. He needed time. That and a convenient miracle. “I need you to take this message back to your leaders: I sit in the Chikosi Council. I hear things, know things, that they do not. I am in the unique position to know when the Chikosi are the weakest. Will they be willing to wait for word from me before they strike Bowl Town? If they will, I will do what I can to throw the support of the southern Albaamaha to their side. But here is my condition: If you act before the time is right, I will urge the southern mikkos to side with the Chikosi. I will do this not because I do not share your goals, but to save the lives of my people from senseless slaughter.”
“You would act against your own people?” Bull Fish cried incredulously.
“I would act to save my people, you fool!” Then he lowered his voice. “You have my message.”
Bull Fish glared at him through hostile eyes. “I will take that message to my leaders. They will send you an answer by the full moon.”
Amber Bead nodded. At least he had some time, but how on earth could he forestall a conflagration and still be rid of the hated Chikosi?
Five
What did I ever do to offend Power so? The question rolled around in Paunch’s head as he huddled in his damp shirt and nursed the small, smoky fire he had built in a hollow behind an old log. The smoke rose, blue and lazy, to trail off through the trees. Around him the forest dripped and waited, silence only broken by the occasional birdcall and the chatter of an irritated squirrel.
He and his granddaughter, Whippoorwill, had made camp on a ridgetop a day’s walk east of the Horned Serpent River. They had chosen this place, a gloomy flat dominated by huge black oak. Around them the great trees rose toward the sky, their high branches interlacing into a weave that allowed but faint light to penetrate to the forest floor. The trunks were huge, many having the diameter of his long-gone house back in Split Sky City. Walking among them left him with the same feelings his Albaamaha Ancestors must have felt when they first emerged from the Below World into this one. For the first time, Paunch could understand their awe and wonder.
He glanced uneasily at the rising smoke, worried that its odor might attract a wandering scout.
“We are far from any of the trails,” Whippoorwill told him. “There is no point of vantage here; the forest is old. Power almost sleeps here.”
“I wish I could be as sure as you are. How many times have we escaped by a hair’s breadth? This country is crawling with scouts. Half of them are Smoke Shield’s, looking for any sign of retaliation from the Chahta for the White Arrow Town raid. The other half are Chahta, watching the Chikosi watching them!”
Whippoorwill gave him that eerie, liquid-eyed look that sent his souls scurrying. “You knew the risks when you sent Crabapple off in that foolish attempt to warn the White Arrow. I told you about Dancing close to Death. Are you enjoying the feeling?”