People of the Thunder(64)

As he turned back and plodded up the slope, he asked himself, Girl? What have you done?



For two days Smoke Shield had played war games within sight of Bowl Town. He had his warriors working in tandem with Sun Falcon’s. They ran, made mock attacks, charged and shouted from behind a line of shields. Archery practice consisted of the one group releasing a volley of arrows, only to have the second group run forward and release theirs. Like overlapping waves, they practiced the advance technique, well aware that Albaamaha eyes were watching.

He had each warrior demonstrate his skill with a war club, often matching equally skilled opponents to hack at each other with sticks of wood, practicing blocking, striking, and parrying.

The message was clear: If you do not submit, we will turn this on you.

But threaten as he might, no offer of information was made as to the whereabouts of Lotus Root. Sun Falcon’s few remaining informants reported that for all intents and purposes, she might have walked to the edge of the world and fallen off.

Thus it was that a somber Smoke Shield led his warriors back into Split Sky City. He tried to come to some conclusion as to the effectiveness of his efforts. The Albaamaha in the north had seemed pacified. None of their inscrutable faces had told him anything except that they were beaten. Not cowed by any means, but they understood the doom he could rain down upon them.

“Not a word,” he had warned his nineteen warriors as they neared the city. “What we did was special, a thing of Power. You do not tell your friends, your uncles, or brothers. From this moment forward, our part in the Chahta raid did not happen.”

“What of purification?” Bear Paw asked. “We have been bloodied. There is no alternative but to retire to the Men’s House. There we must fast, drink button snakeroot, and purge our systems of pollution.”

“We will do that,” Smoke Shield told him. “But the story is that we do so because we have been in the presence of Albaamaha corpses. Our story is that some terrible Chahta Power may have been turned against us. We tell no one of what we did. No one! If any of you speaks of this thing, you will answer to me.” And then he had made them all swear, binding themselves to the most terrible of oaths.

Only as he led them up from the canoe landing, Singing, stamping, and clapping their clubs against the sides of their war shields, did he wonder if anyone would remember hunters leaving, and warriors returning.

People formed up on both sides, watching them, cheering. Smoke Shield thrust out his chest, leading the procession with the same arrogant pride he would have had he just razed a Chahta town.

Three times they circled the tchkofa; then he led his procession to the Men’s House. He could see Flying Hawk standing at the high palace gate. The high minko shaded his eyes with a hand, watching like a mute sentry from atop the mound.

Upon entering the Men’s House, Smoke Shield ordered the fires to be built up, and the sweat house to be made ready. He pointed to one of the youths lingering outside the door, ordering, “Send for the Hopaye. My warriors must undergo purification rituals to ensure that we bring no evil into the city.”

The boy left at a run.

As Smoke Shield had expected, Flying Hawk appeared in no more time than it would have taken the old man to descend the stairway and cross the plaza. The high minko entered, smiled at the warriors, and indicated that Smoke Shield should follow him out to the sweat house. He shooed the boys away from the fire they were making, and gestured Smoke Shield into the dark and cramped interior.

Leaving the flap open so that he could see if anyone approached, Flying Hawk asked, “Well?”

“I have seen to the situation. Fast Legs will tell no one of his activities. No one is the wiser.”

“And the woman?”

“Gone. No one knows where.” Smoke Shield cupped his hands. “She is too conspicuous. If she shows up, we will hear. My suspicion is that she will mysteriously disappear some night if she has the temerity to raise her voice.”

“And your missing arrows?”

Smoke Shield shrugged. “Missing, with the woman, I presume.”

Flying Hawk stroked his chin, reflecting. “There was no Chahta raid, was there?”

“Oh, yes, Uncle,” Smoke Shield replied. “And a very cunning one, too, I must add. May Breath Giver bless Great Cougar, for he solved a lot of our problems with his audacious attack. The Albaamaha are cowed, but unfortunately Fast Legs, and the kind Albaamaha who found him hurt and were caring for him, are dead. It’s a shame that Fast Legs and his helpers cannot come forward and tell their side of the story. Chief Sun Falcon and Bowl Town are secure, and the Chahta raiders have been driven off.”