People of the Weeping Eye(167)

Trader sighed. Somehow, he hadn’t quite thought that through. “I only know that Power wishes for us to go to Split Sky City.”

“Power comes in many forms,” Born-of-Sun said softly. “I would be much happier if you gave me your oath that you would take your Trade east along the river, or back north. I will even help you to take it west, to the Father Water. Could you give me such an oath?”

Old White slowly shook his head. “That option is denied us, High Chief. Even your Kala Hi’ki understands that. Whatever Power wishes us to do, it must be done at Split Sky City.”

“Then I am back at my impasse, Seeker. My responsibility is to the safety and security of my people. Somehow, I think I would be better served if you were hanging in the squares.” He considered them thoughtfully. “But I, too, serve the will of Power.” He frowned, lost in thought. “Your arrival here was auspicious. We are Tsoyaha, and you arrived just before the solstice. Perhaps it is best if we let Mother Sun decide.”

“How would this be done?” Old White asked warily.

“I will play Trader for your futures,” Born-of-Sun replied. “A game of chunkey, at midday on the solstice. We will play to twenty. And Mother Sun shall decide the merits of who should win. If I win, I will know that your journey to the Chikosi is not in the best interests of my people. Should you win, we will know that your actions there will not bring harm to us.”

“And the wager?” Trader asked.

“If you lose, you shall forfeit your Trade, the war medicine box—including that fabulous piece of copper I have managed with such difficulty to hear about—and your fates shall be mine to determine.” He arched an eyebrow. “Trader? Outside of your possessions and lives, what will you wager for?”

Trader considered that. He had a talent for chunkey. But then those finely polished stones he had seen resting in the beautiful box with their associated lances suggested that Born-of-Sun was no novice, either. What offering would Power favor?

He reached over to give Swimmer a reassuring pat. “Great Chief, I think you are a wise and thoughtful leader, as well as a good man. I don’t think that humans can know the many ways of Power; it shifts and flows. The proud lords of Cahokia learned that.”

Trader stared thoughtfully at the beautiful carving on the rear wall. What wager would best suit his purposes? Wealth? He had that. He glanced at Born-of-Sun’s calculating expression. No, he needed something more, something Power would favor.

And then he knew.

Trader cleared his throat. “If I win, High Chief, this is what I want from you: You will send a messenger to Split Sky City, telling them of this great game of chunkey we played in the name of peace. Once the story is told, the messanger is to announce that Green Snake and the Seeker are returning home to their people to restore the balance of Power. Old White, the Contrary, and I will Trade fairly for labor in making the portage into the Horned Serpent River. And after that, you and I shall enjoy a friendship that lasts until the end of our lives. On that I stake my life and fortune.”





Paunch stared at the collection of nuts he and Whippoorwill had looted out of a squirrel’s cache. He had cracked the shells using a crumbly piece of sandstone, then dug the meats out with a sharpened stick. That—along with shriveled grapes, some rosehips, and occasional hickory, walnut, and beechnuts—made a thin stew. Earlier in the morning—using a bent branch for a throwing stick—he had missed a rabbit by a mere finger’s width.

They camped under the trees on a bluff overlooking the Horned Serpent River. The vantage was possible because a summer tornado had toppled the trees on the slope below. Deadfall made for an ample supply of firewood, the branches having cracked when the trees fell.

This day the sun shone, warming the forest for the first time since the snowfall. A breeze blew up from the south. It teased Whippoorwill’s long black hair as she sat on the Y of a fallen branch and watched him with those knowing dark eyes.

“It’s not as easy as you thought, is it?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“Being free.”

He stared at her, seeing her worn dress, smudged with dirt, torn here and there.

“It beats hanging from a square.”

“You needed the wilderness, Grandfather. You have missed the reality of life.”

“Reality? Like that bunch of warriors who barely missed catching us yesterday?” He winced, remembering how close the Chahta had come. But for a handy log, nothing would have kept the keen-eyed warriors from seeing them.

“Power sent them past us,” Whippoorwill said easily. “The time isn’t right yet.”