“We wish no trouble,” Old White finally said. “Our business lies in the south.”
The long silence continued.
Trader had begun to fidget. Swimmer, reading his unease, had started to creep along on his belly, eyes fixed anxiously on the door. You and me, dog.
“Tell me why you are going to Split Sky City, Seeker. Tell me plainly, under the Power of Trade that you claim you are bound by. This thing I would know.”
Old White took a deep breath. “Power is calling us there.”
“Did the Contrary tell you that?”
“No. I first heard the call from the Katsinas. They are a—”
“I know who the Katsinas are.”
Old White turned curious eyes on the blind man.
“Tell me, Seeker, after all that you have seen, do I really surprise you that much? Rainbow City is tied to the world as thoroughly as any other place. Traders still pass through here with great regularity, and have for years. My body does not let me travel, but other men, such as yourself, do; and they impart a great many things. Did the Katsinas tell you to find the Contrary?”
“No, they only told me to go home. That the way would be long, and I should follow the route I was required to.”
“Then where did you learn of the Contrary?”
“She called to my Dreams. At the time I was in the Caddo lands. To obtain more information, I stopped to ask the Forest Witch her opinion. She thought I should go north, though it was several seasons out of my way.”
“Now the Forest Witch appears in your story. You know a great many Powerful women, Seeker.”
“I have had an unusual life,” Old White said dryly.
The blind man asked, “Why does Power want you, a Contrary, a murderer, and the Chikosi war medicine in Split Sky City?”
“I can only guess at the reasons.”
“Tell me your guess.”
Old White straightened, evaluative eyes on the Kala Hi’ki. “I think we are called there to right an old wrong. For reasons I do not understand, Power is out of balance. We are being called there to restore the harmony.”
“Why, out of all the Dreamers, Hopaye, and chiefs available to it, would Power call you from across the world?”
Old White nodded as if he’d anticipated the question, a wistful smile on his lips. “Because I have seen the many ways and forms of human beings. I have lived at the edge of the ice with the Inuit. Among the Azteca I watched the construction of a great mound of human bodies. I have talked with the Chumash about Traders from across the western ocean, and seen the bearded white man among the Pequot. While with the Tequesta, I watched them hunt whales by driving stakes into their blowholes. My feet trod the ruins of the White Palaces in the land of the Katsinas, and these eyes saw the To’Odam canals filled with roaring floodwaters. Dead Cahokia has cast the shadow of its great mound upon my souls. I know the hearts of the poorest farmer and the greatest rulers.” He hesitated. “Something terrible is about to happen at Split Sky City. For reasons I will not share—even with you, great Kala Hi’ki—I must restore the harmony.” He paused, then added softly, “Power has called me home to die.”
Trader stared, aware that his mouth hung open. Who is this man?
A runner dressed in a brown shirt appeared at the door, whispered to the war chief, and stepped out to wait.
The war chief motioned the man to stay and crossed the room to whisper a terse question into the Kala Hi’ki’s ear.
The blind man nodded; then he turned his head toward Old White. “My chief is anxious to know how we should dispose of you.”
“We mean the Children of the Sun no harm,” Old White insisted.
“Meaning and doing are two different things.”
Trader felt fear sweat growing clammy on his skin. This could turn either way. The blind man’s face showed no emotion as he spoke rapidly in his tongue. The war chief barked a sharp reply, and turned, walking out of the temple.
“For the moment,” the blind man told them, “you shall live. But I warn you: Be very, very careful.”
Smoke Shield’s canoe floated on the calm backwater. He had chosen a partially silted-in channel of the Black Warrior River for this rendezvous. Stands of cane surrounded him, many of the stalks showing scars where they had been cut and carried off for building materials. People tried to keep from cutting all the cane, but year after year there were more people, and fewer canebrakes to go around.
A cold wind had blown down from the north, and his breath frosted before his mouth. He had wrapped his body in a warm beaverhide hunting shirt tanned with the hair on. Thick moccasins hugged his feet and calves. A bearskin cloak lay folded on the canoe floor; weapons were laid close at hand atop it. For this outing he had left his war shield behind. Should the high minko ask, Thin Branch was to tell him that his master had gone hunting as a means of working off his anger.