“Sky Hand?” Morning Dew asked, reluctant not to reach for the bowl one last time. What did she, a slave, have to Trade for such a piece?
“He goes by the name of Trader—that’s how he’s known on the river—but according to what my friend told me, his name is really Green Snake.”
The gasp caught both Morning Dew and Gray Squirrel by surprise. They both turned to see Heron Wing, mouth open, staring wide-eyed.
“I’m sorry,” Gray Squirrel asked. “Do you know this Green Snake?”
Heron Wing stepped back on shaken legs. “What did you hear of him?”
“The story told up on the Tenasee is that he’s traveling with the Seeker and this Contrary. He and Born-of-Sun played chunkey at the solstice. The Yuchi wanted to keep the Seeker and the Contrary. But this Trader, Green Snake, won the match.”
Heron Wing seemed to have trouble finding her voice, and the look of confusion on her face left Morning Dew staring in disbelief.
“Did . . . Did you hear anything else about him?”
Gray Squirrel hesitated, apparently unsure how to use this newfound interest to his best advantage. “I heard that he’s Sky Hand. Supposedly Chief Clan, which is why Born-of-Sun . . . Are you all right?”
Heron Wing’s eyes had lost focus, her hand going to her breast. A pinched frown lined her brow. She reached down, running her fingers along the raccoon bowl’s smooth wood, touching . . . what?
“What would you Trade for the bowl?” Morning Dew asked, distracting Gray Squirrel.
“Oh, it would take a lot,” Gray Squirrel replied, sensing his advantage.
“A moment ago, you just asked for my smile and a little something,” Morning Dew reminded, flashing him her best smile.
“This bowl came straight from Green Snake’s canoe,” he shot back, no doubt guessing that such information could drive his Trade higher.
Heron Wing slipped a trembling hand into her belt pouch. She withdrew a small copper pendant, one of the hanging scalp designs that featured a spinning four-legged spiral, below which hung a narrowing tail of copper. The design was indicative of the four directions of the turning heavens. It had been hung from a shell-beaded thong.
He took it, frowning. “I don’t know . . .”
“That belonged to War Chief Smoke Shield,” Heron Wing said, swallowing hard. “I won it from him during the solstice games. He in turn received it from the Hopaye Pale Cat. It was a marriage gift.”
“I’m not sure,” Gray Squirrel said cautiously. “This could be from anyone.”
Morning Dew pointed a finger. “Under the Power of Trade, that is the truth. Take the copper pendant. As it had belonged to Smoke Shield, you can Trade it for ten bowls among the Yuchi.”
“That bowl comes from—”
“Take it, or leave it,” Morning Dew insisted, holding her hand out for the pendant.
“It is a Trade,” Gray Squirrel said, clutching his fingers around the pendant. Heron Wing reverently lifted the bowl, staring at it as if it were precious beyond belief.
“Oh, and one last thing,” Gray Squirrel told them, sure they wouldn’t back out now. “If you can believe the stories the Yuchi tell, this Green Snake is supposedly on his way here.”
“What?” Heron Wing asked anxiously. “Here?”
“That was the rumor. He, the Seeker, and the Contary are Trading down the Horned Serpent. They’re coming here. According to my Yuchi friend, it’s something about Power.”
Heron Wing had clamped her eyes closed, clutching the bowl to her chest.
“Excuse us, Gray Squirrel.” Morning Dew took Heron Wing’s arm, steadying her. “My friend isn’t feeling well.”
She led Heron Wing away from the puzzled Thunder Town Trader. Heron Wing looked shocked, as if someone had just punched her hard in the stomach.
“I’m going to take you home.”
“He’s alive,” Heron Wing whispered. “Gods, he’s still alive.”
Evidently, Morning Dew thought, and coming here.
But who was Green Snake? And if a distant Trader could have this kind of effect on the rock-solid Heron Wing, did Morning Dew really want him arriving?
Word of their coming had spread. As Old White and Trader made their way downriver, they were met at each town landing. People were lined up, some under ramadas, all with their best Trade displayed. At no town were any of Trader’s party allowed beyond the landings, though the Chahta made up for it with feasts, Singing and Dancing, and perfect hospitality.
“You’d think they didn’t trust us,” Old White had noted wryly.
“You have already seen everything,” Two Petals told him cryptically. “There is nothing left. It is all so apparent.”