People of the Weeping Eye(135)
“Then why doesn’t he just tell the sick man that’s what he’s doing?”
“Because he believes, and you don’t. So he gives you a reason to believe. Your souls can overcome their reluctance to heal. That’s why Two Petals can see Spirit People, because she isn’t blinded by this world. She accepts the reality of the Spirit World around her. She does not question.”
“But I do? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Don’t you?” Old White asked.
Trader snorted to himself and crossed his arms.
Old White sighed, leaning back. We’re quite the companions, aren’t we?
He tried to still his souls, to find the peace he needed. From Two Petals’ depressed and worried expression, her invisible Deer Man had told her something terrible was coming. Old White need only look to the side where the wary Yuchi paddled to have an inkling of just what the terrible thing would be.
The Yuchi warriors did not stop at Cattail Town, but hustled right past it, the warriors waving off any inquisitive canoes that came out to inspect the armada. From there on, they were in populated country; the river terraces had been denuded of trees, occasional farmsteads just visible above the banks. Here and there patterns of stakes marked fish weirs, and canoes of fishermen waved warily as they passed, then went back to casting their nets in the shallows.
They passed more towns, the settlements fortified with palisades and one or two platform mounds with square, thatch-roofed buildings visible behind the stockades. Any patch of arable ground had been cleared, and one or two houses were always in sight.
“The Yuchi are doing well,” Trader observed, recovered from his irritation. “I don’t remember so many people the last time I went through here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Ten years?” Trader studied the fields. “When I was a child, the Yuchi were a force to be reckoned with. They must be a real threat now.”
“Like fluff in the wind,” Two Petals told him emotionlessly. “You aren’t meant to see this. Forget it … cast it from your thoughts. The Children of the Sun are meaningless.”
Trader’s expression hardened. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She stared at him, head cocked expectantly. “Forget, forget. Do that and you won’t have to remember anything.” She grew puzzled. “Remembering, it’s like cutting squares in old fabric.” Then she laughed ironically. “You can put your fingers through the holes.”
Trader didn’t look happy as he turned his attention back to Old White’s canoe, where his precious medicine box and its wealth of copper lay.
Daylight was a fading memory when they finally passed the mouth of a large creek, its swampy confluence thick with young bald cypress. A short distance beyond, a section of the high bluff had slumped and was used as a landing. Tens of canoes were pulled up below a cluster of houses, granaries, and ramadas. In every direction the land was bare, denuded for either cornfields, firewood, or building materials. On the breeze coming from the southwest, Old White could smell the familiar odors of a city: smoke, cooking food, human waste, and humanity.
“What is this place?” he called to the Yuchi as they were brought into the landing.
“Rainbow City,” the war chief called back. “You will wait in your canoes until I receive instructions from the Kala Hi’ki.”
Old White sighed, wondering if he’d end up bristling with arrows should he try to stand to ease the cramps in his old legs.
Two young men, dressed in white aprons, appeared from the gloom. In the torchlight, one walked up. He was tall, with clear eyes, his face painted in black and yellow. A long copper pin ran through the twist of hair on the back of his head. Holding up a beautiful quillwork bag, he muttered a slow incantation, then watched for some reaction.
Old White lifted an eyebrow as the young man studied him. In Trade Tongue, he said, “Whatever the warding was, it didn’t work.”
The young Priest lowered the bag. “What sort of beings are you?”
Old White grunted as he clambered out of the beached canoe, offered his hand to Two Petals, and let Trader climb out by himself. Turning, he reached back for his staff. When finally composed, he said, “I am Old White, known as the Seeker. With me is Two Petals, a Contrary. The man is known along the rivers as Trader. Under the Power of the Trade, I swear to you that we are here to commit no mischief. Our goal is to Trade, hire labor to carry us upstream, and make a portage into the Horned Serpent River.”
“You are bound by the Power of Trade?” the man asked.
“I am. So are my companions.”