People of the Weeping Eye(180)
Smoke Shield’s vision narrowed. “Morning Dew?”
“Heron Wing …” Thin Branch wrung his hands. “She took the wager. She bet against her own moiety. Isn’t that the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard? She wagered her entire collection of fine shell necklaces specifically against Morning Dew. As of this morning, your slaves, me included, belong to Heron Wing.”
Smoke Shield sat hard on the pole bench, hardly aware that it cracked dangerously under his weight.
“It’s not all bad,” Thin Branch replied meekly. “The gracious Heron Wing has sent me back to you. As a … a gift to her beloved husband!”
The solstice remained cold, the ground hard and frozen for the much-anticipated chunkey match between Trader and the Yuchi high chief. Old White was so nervous he found it difficult to breathe as he watched Trader and Born-of-Sun make their ritual observances. Around them a huge crowd had gathered, literally pressing against each other to the point that War Chief Wolf Tail had to delegate warriors to keep the crowd back, especially downrange where an errant lance might do serious damage to a spectator. A buzz filled the air, all eyes on Trader, the high chief, Swimmer—who sat at Old White’s feet—and Two Petals.
That morning, in the ceremony before the first ballgame, people had been amazed that Chikosi would offer gifts to Mother Sun, and had actually fought over the Illinois bowls they had passed out randomly among the crowd.
“I guess we are no longer witches and wicked sorcerers,” Old White commented to Two Petals and the Kala Hi’ki. He waved back at a well-wisher in the crowd.
“People are curious,” the Kala Hi’ki replied. “That you are here, with me, is most auspicious to them. Their interest in the welfare of the Contrary has passed from lip to lip. And the offer made to your Trader has been buzzing among them like bees among flowers.” He turned his blind head toward Two Petals. “Are you all right?”
“I am stone,” she said softly, her expression oddly preoccupied as she watched a steaming shell cup of black drink being passed between the high chief and Trader. “The people flow around me like a river. I am awash with their souls; they lap against me like waves.” She looked at an open space near them in the chunkey court. “You don’t feel them the way I do.” Then she cocked her head, as if listening to an answer. “I will not leap up and grab the chief’s lance from the air. You haven’t seen this like I have.”
Old White glanced in the direction she spoke, wondering what sort of being she saw out there on the naked clay.
A pipe was brought to Born-of-Sun, who took a pull, exhaled, and offered a prayer to the sky, his words spoken in Yuchi.
“He is calling for strength, for firm aim, and for Power to side with him in this most noble of contests,” the Kala Hi’ki translated. “He is a good man, this chief. Better than I would have made.”
“Better than any of us, I am beginning to think,” Old White said agreeably. “And, believe me, I have seen many chiefs. I hope your people continue to be grateful for what they have here.”
“Depending on those two men there, Seeker, he may well be your chief soon.”
Two Petals unexpectedly said, “I’ve seen the wood shatter. It cannot penetrate the stone. Rock has a hard and unforgiving heart.”
Old White nodded thoughtfully. The Kala Hi’ki had done wonders with the woman. And this time the blind Priest had used just a little of the herb extract. With each dose he had been cutting the mixture, weaning her slowly from the brew. As a result, her backward speaking was increasing and she’d grown detached. She paused more often to listen to voices and talk to beings he couldn’t see; but she no longer grew frantic when people crowded around. Sudden noises, like cheers from the crowd, didn’t cause her panic.
Old White fingered his chin, reached down to pet Swimmer, and watched as Trader and Born-of-Sun stripped down to their breechcloths in the cold air. Trader raised his chunkey stone to his lips, blowing across it. Then he did the same with his lance.
The crowd went silent as Trader generously offered the first cast to Born-of-Sun. Old White felt his heart begin to hammer as the chief took the first mark, bent to loosen his muscles, and closed his eyes, as if seeing the cast deep inside the eye of his souls.
Why am I so worried? He had seen chunkey before, had often had games played in his honor. This one, however, would determine his future.
He closed his eyes, praying, Be strong, Trader. May Power ride your muscles and guide your cast.
Involved in his prayer, Old White missed the first cast, hearing the crowd explode in praise. Downrange he could see the lance and stone. The distance was close. One of the Priests stepped forward and used a knotted string to measure the distance. This he showed to the rapt crowd, and a cheer went up.