People of the Weeping Eye(166)
“It looks excellent,” Old White murmured. “You think he’d at least stop and taste.”
Born-of-Sun grinned happily. “I know dogs. This one has been very hungry at some point in his life.” Then he looked up, eyes clearing. In that moment, he went from warm host to high chief. “Now, let us be seated. I would hear what has brought you to Rainbow City, and what it means for me and my people.”
Trader took a seat at the fire, Old White lowering himself beside him. Swimmer, having licked the wooden bowl scrupulously clean, came at a gesture and lay happily at Trader’s side.
New Moon provided cups of warm tea as Born-of-Sun took a beautifully carved pipe from one of the boxes, tamped tobacco into it, and lit it from the fire. He puffed, blowing blue smoke into the air, then uttered a short prayer in his own language.
Trader followed suit when the pipe was extended to him. He handed it to Old White, who drew, exhaled, and chanted a soft prayer in a language Trader had never heard. Then the old man handed the pipe back to Born-of-Sun as the high chief seated himself on the tripod.
“We come under the Power of Trade, High Chief.” Old White spread his hands. He told the long and involved story of their travels. At times, Born-of-Sun nodded; at others, he might have been a motionless lump of wood, showing no reaction whatsoever. Old White ended, saying, “We would only pass through your country and Trade for portage to the Chaktaw lands.”
For a long time, Born-of-Sun studied the pipe he held. “You have heard of the trouble brewing down there?”
“We have,” Old White agreed. “It may well be that same trouble is what calls us to Split Sky City.”
Born-of-Sun ran a finger down the snake-shaped stem of his pipe. “Let me explain my dilemma. Once, in the time of my grandfather, the Chikosi caused us a great deal of trouble. We were at war constantly. Chikosi warriors, led by a Powerful war chief, caused many of my people to abandon their towns along the Tenasee River east of us. Some moved back north; others came here. Where our fields once grew corn, only weeds and brush flourished.
“My people believed that Power had deserted them. In response, we conducted a great purification here, at Rainbow City. For a whole moon, we fasted, purged, and cleansed our bodies and souls.
“Disaster befell the Chikosi when Power favored us. They sent their high minko to fight us. We captured him and his war medicine. For a time, we persevered. Then the Chikosi raised a new war chief, Bear Tooth. Power favored him in war, but not in life. Some years later their great palace burned in the night; and War Chief Bear Tooth died along with the Chief Clan matron. Their Power was broken, their leadership weakened. In the following years, we beat back the raiders and retook our lands. Once again our towns to the east flourished. Today, I rule those towns. They are my responsibility to care for and protect. Now you want to take the same war medicine we captured back to them and restore the Power?” He paused, giving Old White a hard stare. “Give me one good reason why I would want the Chikosi returned to their former strength?”
Old White spread his hands helplessly. “Great Chief, I can only tell you that Power calls us there. A darkness has been growing in Split Sky City. Now we hear that they have delivered a serious blow to the Chaktaw. Even I do not know Power’s ultimate purpose in carrying the war medicine box and the Contrary to Split Sky City.”
“And you, Trader?” Born-of-Sun asked. “It is reported that you are Chief Clan, that you are in line to be high minko. Despite the fact that you like dogs, is there a reason I should allow you to assume the leadership?”
Trader ran his fingers through Swimmer’s fur. “I have no reason to wish for war with the Tsoyaha. It disrupts the Trade.” He glanced up. “I have seen many things during my years on the river, High Chief. Many people believe they can accumulate Power through war. Some do; most do not. I have watched nations eaten away by raids, their numbers dwindling until they are mere shadows of who they once where. Why should I wish that for my people?”
Born-of-Sun spread his fingers, as if letting something go. “We do not live on Trade alone. And no matter what a chief may want, his actions are determined by the will of his people. Are you trying to tell me that if the Chikosi Council demanded that you make war upon us, you would tell them no? Think about that. Your personal desires must come second to the politics of your people. Saying one thing—while you enjoy my hospitality, and surrounded by my warriors—will be far different than what you will say while facing a united Council. If they appoint you at all, they will be suspicious. Until you prove yourself, you will be in a weak position. I am told that you have been gone from them for ten summers. Yes, you have seen much, and learned a great many lessons on the rivers. But they have never left the Black Warrior Valley. They have only your word on these things. Why should they trust a stranger’s counsel? What promises will you have to make to enjoy their support?”