People of the Thunder(3)
Power had brought her here. Well, Power and the Kala Hi’ki’s not-too-friendly and well-armed warriors. During her long trip southward from her native Oneota lands, she’d caught glimpses of the Kala Hi’ki. Even as far away as Cahokia, she had seen him in her visions: a terrible man covered with burn scars, his nose slashed away to leave two gaping nostrils. He wore a cloth wrapped over the empty sockets of his eyes, and his maimed hand had reached out for her.
“He brought you here to destroy you,” Deer Man reminded.
“Instead he Healed me.”
“You were a mystery to him. Trader was merely a temptation. And Old White? Ah, in the end he would have been the Kala Hi’ki’s destruction. Mystery, temptation, destruction. Such a curious combination Power weaves.”
“Old White is dangerous?”
“The Seeker is the most dangerous man alive. Not even the Kala Hi’ki fully understands the Seeker’s obsession . . . or the dark secret he carries hidden between his souls.”
“Where are you taking me?” Two Petals asked as they passed the base of the Warrior Moiety’s large temple. The structure had been built atop a square mound, the high building having a commanding view of the plaza. Protruding from the thatch roof’s peak were carvings of Falcon, Ivory-billed Woodpecker, and Snapping Turtle, their dark eyes glaring down at her as though the very Spirit beasts themselves watched her.
“We’re going there.” Deer Man pointed past several houses to a large, square-sided structure that rose above a low mound. The walls beneath the overhanging thatch roof had been plastered black at the bottom with a red band just below the eaves. The Spirit poles standing outside the west-facing doorway had been carved into the shape of vultures.
At that moment a shift in the night breeze carried the pungent odor of decay. “It’s a charnel house.”
“Oh, yes.” Deer Man inclined his antlered head, the pointed tines gleaming in the night. “Come, let me show you something.”
Two Petals glanced warily around at the darkened houses, corn cribs, and ramadas as she followed Deer Man to the entrance. Nothing stirred, the silence oddly discomforting.
Deer Man ducked into the low doorway, his wide antlers passing through the thick-plastered wall as if it were smoke.
Two Petals placed her hand on the unforgiving plaster, feeling its dense resistance. She shook her head, ducked past the door hanging, and emerged into a large room. Benches lined each wall, and raised platforms had been placed in rows throughout the center of the room. Most of these supported corpses in varying states of decomposition. The intense odor hung at the back of her nose and cloyed in her throat. She couldn’t help but make a face.
“Why do you wince?” Deer Man asked. “You are a Contrary. The smell of death is just the odor of life turned backward.”
“I . . . I’m just not used to it.” She stepped forward, staring down at the closest of the bodies. This one had been a young man. His flesh sagged loosely on the bones, dry eyes recessed into the orbits of his skull. White teeth were bared behind hardened lips frozen in a rictus. Each of the man’s ribs pressed out through the skin. His belly was a hollow, and the bones of the young man’s hips seemed to jut up uncomfortably. His penis looked like a dried tuber, testicles like stones in the stretched scrotum. Flesh sagged on his thin thighs, the knees like knotted roots.
“He was young,” Deer Man told her. “They called him ‘Chigger.’ Said he was a bit of a nuisance. He didn’t pay attention to the curious black mold that was growing on old acorns. Anyone with sense would have thrown them out.”
Two Petals stared down at the wasted corpse. “Where are his souls?” She looked around, curious now as she cataloged the various bodies supine on the pole racks. Some were swollen with gas, others barely more than skeletons.
“That’s what I brought you here to see. The souls are all around you, waiting. If you clear yourself of the noise made by the living, you will be able to recognize them.”
She gestured to the bodies. “What will the Yuchi do with them?”
“When the time is right, the High Priest will slice what little flesh remains from the bones. He will pick away the loose tendons, strip off the scalp and any clinging tissue. Once the bones are cleaned, they will be Blessed, tied together, and given to the family for final burial in one of their mounds. Or maybe laid to rest in a place where the souls of the dead will remain close by and can help protect the living from the dangers in the Spirit world.”
She tried to quiet her revulsion. As she did, she could make out the faintest yellow-orange objects, like dim lights glowing along the walls. Others hovered near the ceiling.