People of the Thunder(37)

“We are honored and humbled,” Old White said, bowing slightly.

Trader shot a glance at the thick fabric bag that held the war medicine box and his precious copper. Just leave it here? Take a chance that Great Cougar’s warriors were as good as their chief’s words?

“Dance with the Power, Trader,” Two Petals said suddenly. “Just tuck your desires to your chest. Spin around and around with them until all is lost. The tighter you clutch wealth, the sooner it will slip away.”

Trader gave her a worried glance, seeing curiosity behind her eyes. Entrust it to Power? Just like that? Then he remembered the image of his arcing lance on that last cast of the chunkey game.

He called Swimmer to his side and considered the pack he wanted, letting his finger hover over the bag that hid the war medicine box as if in indecision, then pointing to another. After it was lifted out by a burley Chaktaw, they formed up, walking up the bank and into the trees. People followed along behind and on both sides, chattering excitedly.

Trader forced himself not to look back at his canoe with its hopefully guarded cargo.

I must be mad to trust a Contrary.

Just beyond the trees, where the high soils were better drained, they crossed into an open patch of fields dotted with small farmsteads. The bean and squash vines had already been burned in anticipation of planting season. The trail led across the floodplain to a palisaded town now silhouetted against the evening sky. Behind the walls, several high roofs could be seen, and the carved images of Woodpecker, Falcon, and Cougar rose from the center poles, darkly silhouetted against the sunset.

Trader followed the war chief through a narrow defensive entry to the town. Inside he found the usual clutter of steep-roofed houses, ramadas, standing mortars, and granaries. Men, women, and children accompanied by dogs flooded into the open spaces, surprised and delighted by the arrival of Traders. More than once Trader growled a command at Swimmer to keep him close. It was a constant chore since his dog wanted to pee on every passing post or wall.

They wound through the houses and stepped out onto a plaza, its clay surface swept clean. A stickball ground, chunkey court, and two ominous wooden squares lay between him and the palace atop its man-high mound. In the middle stood a single pole, representing the Tree of Life, its red and white spirals barely visible in the fading light.

They climbed the wooden steps that led up the low mound to the palace and passed through the palisade. Two guardian poles stood in the narrow courtyard and had been carved and painted to resemble snarling panthers. Great Cougar motioned them to wait as he stepped to the open doorway, calling, “Great Chief White Bear Mankiller, I come to announce the arrival of Traders.”

“Let them enter and be welcome,” a voice called from inside.

Trader followed Old White and Two Petals into the warm interior. There a blazing fire in the middle of the room illuminated a man seated on a three-legged stool covered with the traditional cougar hides. He was old, white-haired, with a lined face. Upon his head rested a beaten copper headpiece formed in the shape of a falcon, its wings spread. A stone war club lay heavily atop his white apron, the latter arrayed so the point hung down between his knees. Necklaces of white shell beads draped his breast, and a bearskin cape was thrown back over his sagging shoulders.

The wall behind him was adorned with a panther relief. Real cougar teeth had been inset in the jaws, and claws reached out from the grasping paws. Copper inlay added to the effect, the entire thing meticulously carved.

Around the room, benches were set against the walls. Masterfully carved wooden boxes had been neatly stowed beneath them along with pottery and baskets. The matting on the floors was new, clean, and covered here and there with hides.

Old White stopped just before the fire, lifting his staff and calling out the traditional greetings before invoking the Power of Trade. Then he made introductions, and finally handed a bag of tobacco to the war chief, who in turn carried it to the chief on his stool.

“The Seeker?” White Bear said in amazement. “You are actually him?”

“I am, Great Chief.” Old White bowed.

“Spotted Serpent has told me of you. He says that you relate the most remarkable stories.”

Trader glanced to the side as the packs were deposited. People were filing in, taking places on the benches around them. Some, to Trader’s amusement, were scuffling, trying to get a better vantage. One look from Great Cougar was all it took to chasten them. At least until he turned his glance on others.

A muscular young man emerged carrying a heavy stone pipe, also carved to represent a crouching panther. This he carefully placed on the matting before the chief; then the man inserted a long and ornately carved stem. The chief handed him the sack of tobacco, and the young man shook the leaf into the bowl in the animal’s back. Careful not to touch it with his fingers, he used a small wooden pestle to tamp the bowl. Next he lit it with a twig kept to the side for that purpose.