“So there’s more to this than meets the eye?”
“Perhaps.”
Morning Dew nodded as she went about warming the tea. As it heated, she studied Heron Wing. The woman’s stomach remained flat, her waist narrow above rounded hips that tapered into muscular thighs. Her high breasts with their dark pointed nipples remained firm and provocative.
I hope I look half as good at her age, she thought.
“Something bothering your souls?” Heron Wing asked, giving her an appraising look.
Morning Dew smiled. “Just thinking of the future.” She waved it off. “More to the point, why would the Yuchi high chief send an assassin to kill Flying Hawk? Is there some reason I don’t know?”
Heron Wing’s classic brow arched as she took the tea Morning Dew poured. “You and Pale Cat think a lot alike. He is wondering the same thing. Something happened in the palace when he was stitching up the wound in Flying Hawk’s chest. He smells a skunk among the raccoons. That’s why we’re called to Night Star’s.”
“And you want me to go? What would I know about Born-of-Sun?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea. Have you ever met him?”
“Once, long ago. I was still a girl, he just barely a man.”
“I see. And?”
She laughed. “I thought him one of the most unusual young men I’d ever met. He speaks fluent Mos’kogee. He was charming, intelligent, and had a smile that made my heart flutter.”
“A rogue?”
“Hardly. I thought he was responsible beyond his years.”
“That is his reputation.” Heron Wing chugged the tea, shivering again, but most of the moisture had been wicked away by the fire. “Find me something warm and dry to wear. We don’t want to be late.”
“And Stone?”
“Wide Leaf will be here soon. I saw her in the crowd outside the tchkofa. She had to attend to some things first. I don’t think she’ll be—”
“I’m here, I’m here,” the old woman called as she stepped in through the door. “By the Ancestors, it’s a wet one out there. You be sure to wear a rain hat.” She stepped forward, dress dripping on the floor. “Bless you, lady. That fire is the finest thing I’ve seen in years.”
Heron Wing pulled her dry dress over her head, saying, “I don’t know how long we’ll be.”
“See you when you’re back.” Wide Leaf gave a toss of her hand.
Morning Dew followed Heron Wing out into the night. Once again, it was pitch black. This time, beads of rain spattered down on the piece of bark she held over her head.
“I would have you think,” Heron Wing said. “Could Great Cougar have thought this up? Could this be a way of distracting us, diverting our attention away from the Chahta?”
Splashing through the puddles, Morning Dew considered the idea. Heron Wing had a clever mind. Could that indeed be the case? She remembered the man, keen-eyed, smart. He was a devout warrior, attending all of the rituals and ceremonies.
“No,” she stated firmly. “The Yuchi came under the white arrow of peace. Great Cougar—cunning warrior that he is—would never abuse Power in that way.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I am of anything.”
“But,” Heron Wing mused, “if someone else abused the white Power, Great Cougar wouldn’t hesitate to strike, would he?”
“Make no mistake about Great Cougar. He will use any advantage given him in war.” She stopped short.
Heron Wing made a few steps, then turned. “What?”
“One thing you do not want to try and do is lay this at his doorstep. I tell you, he is an honorable man. If the Sky Hand were to accuse him of misusing Power in this way, it would goad him to any length to destroy you. There could be no hope of peace until an apology was offered.”
“Then,” Heron Wing mused, “we must try and ensure that no such charges are made.”
Morning Dew looked up at the night. “Gods, has the whole world gone mad?”
“Apparently so,” Heron Wing agreed. “Though only Power and the gods know how we can stop it.”
Eighteen
In the pitch black, Flying Hawk climbed step by step as he made his way up the steep Sun Stairs. The wood was wet, slippery. Many of the steps slanted downward and were even more treacherous. As soon as the weather improved, he would have workers out to reset them. It was a constant labor, made more pressing in wet weather when the squared logs turned in the damp soil.
Three warriors traveled with him, offering their hands, warning him when the steps were sloping. Three warriors. Perhaps I should have more.