She had also proved to be a literal fountain of information on who was doing what to whom. According to her gossip, one would have thought she’d been present in the tchkofa when the decision was made to go to war against the Yuchi.
“Do be careful,” Trader told Old White in a low voice.
“Oh, always.” He took in the crowded houses, the ramadas, and screened latrines. It had been some time since he’d been in such a warren of humanity. “I want to see what they’ve done to my city.”
Two Petals ducked out the door wearing a knee-length dress and without a word matched his pace, as if she’d planned this all along.
I had just made up my mind myself. But then, one didn’t question a Contrary.
Or did he?
“I notice it was cold last night,” he offered as he took a winding path that led around the shops where mica—Traded down from the north—was fashioned into ornaments and jewelry. After two days of rain, the craftsmen were busily engaged, sitting cross-legged as they carved designs into the shiny stone.
“Cold indeed,” she replied. “I see ice everywhere I look.”
“Find any in Trader’s bed?”
“Oh, yes.”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “How is that?”
“Time only stops for an instant,” she whispered softly, her hands flicking this way and that. “Time lives and breathes, full and empty when we need it most. Why can’t we stop the river, Seeker?”
“Because it was Created to flow.” He smiled sadly. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Wouldn’t have him in my bed, that’s sure.”
“Then why do you go to his?”
“I have to be distracting. Failure would bring disaster. This is a hive. Can’t you hear all the buzzing?” She was staring around at the people, the packed houses. “Thoughts and souls . . . souls and thoughts.”
“I have some of the Kala Hi’ki’s tea if you need it.”
“The only time a person gets stung is if they move too fast. Can’t threaten the bees. It makes the flowers lose color. The petals fall like leaves, but then, it’s winter. Can’t have leaves in winter . . . they’ll grow out brown.”
Old White let it go, figuring she had enough trouble keeping her Contrary thoughts in check without him adding to her confusion. That she could walk through such a large city and not be overwhelmed was progress enough from that first night at Rainbow City. And her mood was lighter, more cheery than the silent, inward-looking person she’d been on the trip downriver.
Was that just part of being Contrary? Sad and introspective for a period, then bouncing and happy?
He rounded a charnel house, passed one of the burial mounds, and stepped out on the eastern edge of the plaza. Across the chunkey court, the tchkofa stood, ringed by its palisade, looking like a mother turtle and her two babies where the round roofs protruded. The roofs had been covered with earth, and grass was growing on the soil.
The old familiar guardian posts stood watch, and the colors on the Tree of Life gleamed red and white. On the north, the high minko’s palace stood defiantly against the sky. He stopped, just staring at it.
“The funny thing about time,” Two Petals said, “is that you can get lost in it. When you bend it around, it takes you right back to where you started.”
“Yes, it does,” he whispered, then forced himself to study the Raccoon Clan palace atop its mound. “I have forgotten how big Split Sky City is. Somehow, after the Azteca and Cahokia, this place had grown small in my memory.”
“When a snake swallows his tail, does he ever go all the way through?”
“Oh, yes. That’s the magic of it, Contrary. He passes from this world to the next. Turns himself inside out, from the flesh to the Spirit.”
He continued walking, responding to greetings. They encountered people going about their business, baskets perched on shoulders, jars in their hands. No one seemed to think twice at his presence, and that in itself was eerie. He was used to being the Seeker, and here he had become nameless. The irony of it carried a certain amusement.
They passed groups of men, all talking about war, about Yuchi treachery. But here and there, he caught snatches of other conversation.
Most of it hinged on why.
“At least some are wondering,” he noted.
“Seeds are such small things,” Two Petals said. “Isn’t it odd how with just a little water and dirt they can become such large things as trees?”
“It’s the water and dirt, all right,” he agreed. “The best plantings are those well tended.”
She stopped suddenly, eyes aglow.