People of the Weeping Eye(189)
I am a rock. She repeated the mantra to herself, hardening her souls against the painful fantasies of so many souls.
One, in particular, drew her attention. This one, she could see, like a faint glow as it hovered over the old man. Two Petals carefully eased down the temple steps and followed, keeping her distance as Old White walked along the edge of the plaza. He stopped once, fingering the wood on one of the empty squares.
Two Petals watched, distantly aware of the curiosity and dread in the old man’s souls. It took no Contrary’s eyes to know that he imagined Trader hanging there, bleeding his life slowly away.
But that future is dead. Another was lining out for them.
When Old White resumed his pace, she followed, stopping at the square herself, allowing her fingers to run over the smooth wood. Old blood, pain, and death Sang from the wood. The despair and misery sent a shiver through her souls. As if burned, she jerked her fingers away.
“Life is part of Power,” a familiar voice told her.
She turned, seeing Deer Man, his antlers gleaming in the moonlight. He stood no more than five paces away, his hoofed feet resting on the hard plaza clay. Dark eyes seemed to swim in his human face, while his deerlike ears stuck out from the side of his head.
He continued, “Living things concentrate it, hold it, and then let it flow out and into the rest of the world. Those who die in the squares impregnate the wood with fear and horror; just as woodcarvers, potters, or stoneworkers impart hope and pride into their creations.”
“Do we ever lose it all? Is Power like water in a pot? Can it all be poured out?”
“Not all of it. Even when a person dies, there is enough left for the scavengers, insects, worms, and fungus.” Deer Man smiled. “It’s all connected, you know. Power flows from the rocks, the soil, the rivers, and wind. What you impart to the weaving of a beautiful fabric is restored by marveling at a sunrise. Power is the breath of Creation. What you draw into you must eventually be exhaled. Then, that same breath will be taken in by a tree, a chipmunk, a deer, and a butterfly.”
She walked slowly after Old White, aware that Deer Man pranced gracefully beside her, his hoofed feet silent on the clay as they crossed the chunkey court.
“He is worried,” Deer Man told her as she watched Old White stare uneasily up at the high chief’s palace.
“He wonders if Trader and I are still willing to accompany him to Split Sky City.”
Deer Man paused beside her. “You cannot tell him what is coming. You know that, don’t you?”
Two Petals nodded. “The only way that a man can move the world is if he doesn’t know he’s doing it.”
“Telling him the future would frighten him.” A pause. “He wouldn’t understand. It is in his nature to protect you—even if it meant ruin for him and the destruction of all he loves.”
“The scarred man frightens me. He has midnight in his eyes—a reflection of the rage in his souls. Just the thought of him sends shivers down my skin. What he will do to me …” She shook her head. “I tremble, even knowing that I shall find my husband in the end.”
“He frightens the Spirit World. No one should possess so much of the red Power. He is chaos, cunning, and hatred, with no balance. Left to his own, he will permanently upset the balance of Power. Only your husband has the Power to destroy him.”
“I understand.” She shivered, her souls shaken.
“Are you afraid of what you will have to do?”
“I am only afraid of the past. Living it is like wading in quicksand. With each step I worry about being sucked down into the suffocating darkness.”
“And Trader? You know you must give him up to fate. Is that a problem?”
“We have shared Dreams, he and I.” Her body tingled with anticipation of his naked body against hers. “All of life is sacrifice.”
“But only when the time is right,” Deer Man warned. “Any sooner and he will not accept your sister when she is ready. Trader is still fragile, searching for his future. You must be very careful with him. He cannot know the role he is to play.”
“But I have so much to learn. Even knowing the future, a great deal is uncertain.” She watched as Old White walked on, shoulders bent with the weight he had carried for so long.
“Soon,” she whispered. “You need bear your burden for only a few more moons, Seeker. And then, on the equinox, at Split Sky City, all will come clear.”
“Let us hope,” Deer Man replied fervently.