Whipporwill’s blanket lay empty, and that worried him no little bit. But then, she’d always been odd. She often rose in the middle of the night and walked off.
Tell me that this is one of those times she will show up at just the right moment.
He glanced again at the Seeker’s sleeping form. How, he wondered, was he going to explain Whippoorwill’s odd behavior to her new master?
And then there was the Contrary. She was another matter. She sat across the fire from him, watching with really spooky eyes as he stirred the boiling freshwater mussels and added dried grapes, red currants, and paw-paws.
“Wish you could talk,” he said. He cursed himself for not learning Trade Tongue, but as a farmer what use did he have for the languages of the elite? For most of his people it was enough just to know a smattering of Chikosi. “I wish Amber Bead was here. He can talk Trade Tongue.”
And that got him to thinking. Was the old man even alive? Had so much gone wrong in Split Sky City that the Chikosi had discovered his duplicity and hung his old friend from the square?
“Too much for an old man to know,” he muttered, glancing again at the Contrary, wondering what she was seeing. Just an old slave? But by Abba Mikko’s eyebrows, did she have to give him that dark-eyed stare? He avoided looking at her. Meeting her eyes was like looking into midnight. Each time he felt his souls sway, as if their hold on his body had suddenly come adrift.
The Seeker rolled onto his back, yawned, and made a face. When he sat up, his brightly colored blanket fell away.
Paunch watched him climb stiffly to his feet, arch his back, and step over to the side. He relieved himself, looking up at the morning sky, stretching. Then he replaced his breechcloth and stepped to the fire before squatting to extend his hands.
The Contrary said something incomprehensible, and the Seeker glanced at the rumpled blanket where Whippoorwill had slept.
He turned curious eyes on Paunch. “I think the Contrary is telling me your granddaughter is gone.”
“Elder, don’t panic.” Paunch spread his hands. “She does this. The girl has never been right.” He tried to smile reassuringly. “Power has always touched her. She’ll be back before we go. She wouldn’t just leave me.”
The Contrary laughed.
The Seeker asked some question, and the Contrary replied.
Paunch swallowed hard, saying, “I’ve got breakfast cooking. A good meal for us. Something to keep the gut happy for a long day.”
The Seeker sighed. “You aren’t planning on running, are you?”
“Who? Me?” He shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no. I’ve had my fill of hiding out in the forest.” He forced himself to keep his attention on the fire. By the Ancestors, Whippoorwill, get back here and set this man’s souls at ease.
The Seeker frowned at the flames, shot a quick glance at the Contrary, then asked, “I would know more about the situation with the Albaamaha. Who leads this uprising?”
Paunch scratched his head. What did he say? It wasn’t like the man really cared, did he? “Why would you want to know?”
The Seeker gave him a reproving look. “We’re Trading our way down the river. Can you think of a reason that I wouldn’t have at least some interest in the local politics?”
One thing was sure, as long as he belonged to the Traders, he wouldn’t be scrambling for his life. A single glance at the canoes had told him that untold riches lay hidden in those packs. And who knew? They might end up among the Koasti, relatives of the Albaamaha. Once there he might have a chance of slipping away with Whippoorwill. The two of them could make a home for themselves. Whippoorwill could Heal, maybe tell fortunes. Things were looking up.
“Very well,” Paunch said. “The mikkos are dissatisfied, but most are cautious, afraid to wake the Chikosi bear’s anger. But people work like slaves, only to pack their harvest away to Chikosi granaries. Those people breed like rabbits. The man who most wants to see the Sky Hand weakened is Amber Bead. The stupid Chikosi think he’s a doddering old fool. Amber Bead is clever, though. He keeps his ear to the ground. He was the one who hatched the plot to send Crabapple to White Arrow Town.” He winced. “I had already sent the boy before I heard that the mikkos disapproved.”
“And you told me that he ran right into the war party?”
Paunch nodded. “He wasn’t much more than a boy. He must have confessed everything under torture.” He stared down at his hands. “It was my fault.”
“How close to an uprising are the Albaamaha?”
“I cannot tell, master. Much will have depended on what has happened while I was in hiding.” He looked up. “But I don’t think you want to Trade with the Chikosi. I have heard that the Koasati have marvelous things: shells, yaupon, remarkable wooden goods. Is it true that stingray spines and hanging moss are valued in the northern Trade? The Koasati have them in great abundance.”