People of the Weeping Eye(144)
“And it often leaves them dead,” Trader responded woodenly. “There are better ways to make young men quick of wit and skilled. Personally, I would see them play stickball, or learn the ways of the hunt.”
“Some would say you were a coward, Chikosi.”
“What do you think, Kala Hi’ki? Do you think I am a coward?”
“I think you are often afraid.”
“Being afraid and being a coward are two different things.”
“What is the secret that you hide, murderer? Are you afraid to tell me?”
Old White watched Trader lower his eyes. The man glanced at Swimmer, then at his hands. “I have found no reason to tell you.”
The Kala Hi’ki nodded slowly. “I see. Well then, let us try this: Your life rests in my hands. My chief would like to burn you alive in the square at the height of winter solstice. He thinks you would make a good sacrifice to Tso, our Mother Sun. He sees no reason to let an enemy of his people return to home with such a wealth of Trade. In principle, I agree with him; however, I am curious about why Power is calling you to Split Sky City. If there is advantage in this, I would know it. Unlike so many, I have a healthy respect for Power. But I do not want to see my enemy strengthened. Especially when he grows stronger by the season.”
The Kala Hi’ki rubbed his maimed hand. “So my proposal is that we all be honest with each other. Power is at work here, and while I do value the Power of Trade—and its guarantee of safe conduct—no Trader would blame me if I accused a self-confessed murderer of witchcraft and let the yu bah’le, my high chief, burn you alive at the solstice.”
The grin he gave Trader was a gruesome thing. “The Kaskinampo could easily be persuaded to support such a claim, given their haste to see you out of their territory. So, Trader, knowing that your lives are in the balance, will you be totally honest with me, assuming I am totally honest with you?”
Trader looked doomed. “My uncle is called high minko among the Sky Hand. The man I killed was my brother.”
Old White chuckled, aware that attention switched to him.
“That is funny?” the Kaka Hi’ki asked, a terrible passion in his voice. “Are you so blind you do not see these scars? I received them at the hands of the Chikosi high minko! Flying Hawk did this to me while I hung in the square. Now, his nephew sits before me? Do you know how desperately I have wanted to repay them in kind?”
“Power plays us for fools,” Old White said, still chuckling. “This grows ever more intricate in its weave. Just when I begin to perceive the pattern, I encounter yet another thread. Very well, Kala Hi’ki, if we pledge ourselves to honesty, what will you do now that you have such a prestigious person in your hands? We are being tested. Each of us is being granted their heart’s desire. Mine—and Trader’s, I suppose—is to return to our land. I wish to correct an old wrong before I die. Trader wishes to regain his name and honor. You wish to repay pain with pain. Power has sent us down this trail, and now we all face choices. What will yours be?”
The Kala Hi’ki sat silent as a stone, head back. The muscles in his face quivered with the passions that burned inside him. “Flying Hawk laughed as I screamed.”
“I am not that man,” Trader insisted doggedly.
“You are Chief Clan. Of his lineage. Give me one good reason why I should not have you dragged out of here this moment and tied into the square.”
“Because Power has brought us all together here,” Old White replied as if they were discussing the strength of a mint tea. “You are meant to be tempted with the revenge you thirst for. Power gives, and it takes.”
“I feel like taking,” the Kala Hi’ki said through gritted teeth.
Trader had turned sickly pale, wide eyes on the Yuchi priest. “But you did not die on the square. Somehow you got loose.”
“A boy untied me in the middle of the night. In that disgusting tongue of yours, he told me to run. My legs failed me, and I lay writhing and bleeding on the ground. He laughed as he ground my right hand under his foot. When I could finally hobble, he told me to never come back. That his name was Green Snake.”
Trader sucked his breath in. “I never cut you loose!”
The Kala Hi’ki jabbed out with a pointing finger. “You are Green Snake? The man who freed me, stamped on my hand, and urinated into my wounds?”
“No.” Trader dropped his head into his hands. “I never did these things you speak of. Not me. But, my brother … Gods, the things my brother did.”
Old White puffed his pipe and nodded. “There it is. You see, it all fits the pattern. You have been tormenting yourself for years, punishing yourself for the murder of your brother. This is just another proof that killing him was not without justification.”