The very thought of it made his souls cringe.
We have the proof to act against them. But how? Only that morning he had heard that within weeks, the high minko would be calling warriors to Split Sky City. They would come in the company of the chiefs from up and down the river to discuss the proper action to be taken against the Chahta for their supposed raid.
“That part, at least, makes sense.” So, too, did the sudden reluctance among the Albaamaha to antagonize the Chikosi further. Both peoples seemed to accept that Great Cougar had magically penetrated the Chikosi defenses, cut a swath along the western hills, and then vanished just as mysteriously into the thin air, leaving tracks only where he wanted them seen.
“It’s easier to believe that,” he mused. Great Cougar had every reason to raid in response to the White Arrow Town massacre. “But a few people are uneasy with it.” He’d seen that at the Council meeting. One of the advantages to being present but rarely called upon to comment was that he had spent years studying his enemies. Each Chikosi chief had his own particular habits. Vinegaroon chewed his thumb when he was frustrated. Blood Skull’s nose flared when he thought someone was lying to him. When Black Tail disagreed, he wiggled his right foot. Two Poisons began rocking his head when he was unimpressed.
Amber Bead had seen outright hostility in Night Star’s eyes as she listened to Flying Hawk’s report, and Blood Skull’s nostrils had gone so wide they looked like round eyes. Pale Cat, too, had averted his eyes, a habit he had when displeased with what he heard.
The rest of the Council, however, had accepted the entire story.
As did a great many of the mikkos he had communicated with.
“So, what do we do?” he mused, watching a great white heron wing silently north over the river. The bird flew so effortlessly, its wings barely flapping, its neck bent double.
“There you are!” a voice called.
Amber Bead turned, gasped, and leapt to his feet. “High Minko!”
Flying Hawk walked down the slope to the beach, favoring his bad knee. The women had stopped to gape, their actions frozen.
“Oh, it’s all right,” Flying Hawk called in passable Albaamaha. “Go back to work. I’m just here to chat with my old friend.” They remained frozen, looking more like deer caught in a hunter’s surround than reassured.
Flying Hawk sighed as he reached the flats, walking over to Amber Bead. “This is a good place. Came here to think, did you?”
“Yes, High Minko. How . . . How did you know?”
“I have my ways.”
The words touched his souls like ice. What else does he know? He couldn’t help it; his eyes went to the surrounding trees, wondering if even now he was being spied upon.
“Oh, relax,” Flying Hawk muttered. “One of my warriors went past in a canoe a half a hand’s time ago. He saw you sitting here. It was just luck that I mentioned I needed to speak with you.” He paused, looking out at the river, seeming to ignore the women who still watched with worried eyes. “Yes, a nice place indeed. I won’t tell. I have my own places to disappear to. Men like us need them.”
“Yes, High Minko.”
Flying Hawk looked at him, eyes speculative. “It has recently been brought home to me that I do not pay enough attention to you.”
“You have other concerns more pressing than worrying about an old man like me.”
“Perhaps, but recent events have brought it to my attention that there have been problems in our relationship with the Albaamaha.”
“There have?” He tried to stifle the fear that had hunkered in his gut.
“This thing with Red Awl.” Flying Hawk shook his head. “I have heard Smoke Shield’s side of the story. Some of it I believe; some I don’t.”
“Really?” he asked, intrigued in spite of his better judgment.
“Whatever it was, it’s over, Councilor.” Flying Hawk clapped a hand to his knee as he seated himself on Amber Bead’s log. “Then the Chahta raid brought things into focus for me.”
I’m sure it did. Everything was back to normal. Flying Hawk was scheming.
“We cannot allow the Chahta to treat us this way. Not the Sky Hand, and not the Albaamaha.”
“No, we can’t.”
Flying Hawk lowered his voice. “I am planning on dealing with them, but in due time.” He looked at Amber Bead. “In order to do this thing, I need Albaamaha help.”
“I see.”
“I need you to think something over for me: What would it take to get five hundred men for several weeks just after the equinox?”
“Five hundred men? You wish to build something? Ah, the rotting palisade!”