People of the Weeping Eye(132)
Walking to the edge of the camp, Old White held up his staff, shouting, “We travel in peace under the Power of Trade. Come, warm yourselves at our fire and share our hospitality.”
For a long moment, the forest was silent. Then an order was barked. Trader had no idea what language it was. To his dismay, figures appeared—a lot of them. He glanced around, seeing movement in every direction.
“Hope they’re friendly,” Old White noted as warriors magically stepped out from every tree and bush.
“Who are you?” a voice called in Trade Tongue.
“I am Old White, often called the Seeker. With me is Two Petals, a Contrary, and the man is called Trader. We travel from the north with Trade.”
A broad-shouldered warrior, short, with the body of a bear, stepped to the forefront, an arrow nocked in his bow. He wore a red war shirt, his face painted in red and black stripes. Oversize copper ear spools filled the lobes of his ears. A large bun—the hair wrapped over a bundle of cloth—stuck out from the back of his head. The cross-shaped sun symbol that decorated the chest of his war shirt was painted in bright red.
“Yuchi,” Trader noted dryly. Just at first glance, he figured they were surrounded by no less than thirty warriors.
“Yuchi,” Old White agreed.
The burly warrior was approaching slowly, his suspicious eyes darting this way and that, as if in anticipation of an ambush.
“There are only the three of us,” Old White said reasonably over Swimmer’s frantic barking. “By the Power of Trade, I swear that we are no threat.”
“That remains to be seen,” the man said warily. “I have been sent to find a Powerful witch that is coming to our country.”
“You will find no witches here.” Old White kept a smile on his face.
It was then that Two Petals stood, walking straight toward the warrior, saying, “He is calling for me.”
The warrior pulled his arrow back, expression sharpening. “Come no closer!”
“Two Petals!” Old White cried in horror. “No! I mean yes! Um, go, run. Gods, do something!”
She stopped short, head tilted as she studied the wide-eyed warrior. “When your arrow pierces my chest, the blind man will be so pleased with the answers to his questions. He hasn’t seen me yet.”
“What blind man?” Trader asked, his hands held wide so that no warriors would get the wrong idea.
The burly man swallowed hard, barking another command. His warriors stood like statues, eyes flint-like, arrows drawn.
Old White growled under his breath, stepping out to place himself between Two Petals and the thick warrior. “She is a Contrary! What she says is backward. It’s the Power that fills her. You do understand a Contrary, don’t you?”
The burly warrior nodded, swallowed hard, and released the tension on his arrow. “What is your purpose in our lands?”
“We come bearing Trade. Nothing more. We wish only to pass through the lands of the Children of the Sun, and we will be gone to the south. To do so, we offer Trade, and would hire some of your young men to pull us upstream, and perhaps pay for portage into the head of the Horned Serpent River. That is all.”
The man hesitated before asking, “How do I know that you will not witch us?”
“We are not witches,” Trader cried. “By the gods, see the staff that Old White holds? Why would you think we are witches?”
“Because we have been sent to find a witch,” the warrior replied. He glanced past Old White at Two Petals. “And we seem to have found the woman that our Kala Hi’ki described.”
Old White turned, looking at Two Petals. “Is this right?”
“Their blind man saw me.” Her eyes had lost focus. “I saw him when he disappeared.” She reached out, fingers caressing the air in a way that made Trader flinch—it was hauntingly similar to what she’d done in his Dream.
“There,” she said. “You can touch him.”
Old White glanced at the warrior. “This Priest of yours, he is blind?”
The warrior nodded. “He sees the Spirit World. He has seen this woman coming.”
“We wish the Children of the Sun no harm,” Old White insisted.
The warrior ground his teeth, muscles in his jaw flaring. Then he came to a decision. “I think it would be best if we kill you here. That way there is no chance that you can work evil on us.”
Old White drew himself to his fullest and tapped his Trader’s staff on the ground. “If you do that, you will break the Power of the Trade.” He lifted a finger, pointing. “If this Prophet of yours is so Powerful, take us to him! If he is truly a man of Power, he will know who and what we are.”