Two bow shots to the east, the tishu minko’s tall palace gleamed in the sunlight atop its steeply pitched earthen mound. The thatched roof, replaced but a half moon ago, still reflected a golden hue as it pointed skyward. High atop the ridgepole the wooden guardians—shaped in the form of raccoons and rattlesnakes, freshly painted—glared out at the world.
At the bottom of the Sun Stairs, Smoke Shield and Flying Hawk turned right to cross the beaten clay of the chunkey ground. As they neared the tall center pole with its red and white spirals, both men knelt, inclining their heads in recognition of the Tree of Life that speared up from the Underworld, through this world, and into the sky.
Straightening, they pursued their path past the Tree of Life toward the elongated oblong of the tchkofa. The structure topped a rectangular mound oriented toward the lunar maximum where it rose on the northeastern horizon every eighteen and a half winters. A wide wooden stairway led up a ramp to the palisaded summit. Behind the log walls, the tchkofa’s three rounded roofs could be seen; the taller middle roof reminded Smoke Shield of a squatting turtle behind a line of reeds. The smaller humps were the attached moiety houses.
He and Flying Hawk bowed to the effigy poles planted in the earth on either side of the stairway; both had been carved into falcons, the heads painted gray, beaks yellow, and eye bars black. Their eyes, made of polished shell, seemed to glare malevolently.
“See into our souls, Grandfathers,” Flying Hawk greeted the totems. “Should you carry our words to the Above World, know that we speak only the truth.”
Smoke Shield took a breath as he placed his foot on the first step and began the ascent. At the top of the stairs stood two warriors, human versions of the falcon guards right down to the designs painted on their faces and the falcon-feather capes around their shoulders. They nodded and tugged on their warrior’s forelocks, a token of respect for their high minko.
Flying Hawk nodded in return, and Smoke Shield followed as he led the way through the portal. The small courtyard sprouted additional totems, heads carved from the tops of the upright logs. Here the turkey-tail mace represented the Chief Clan, while Raccoon, Panther, and Crawfish Clans filled out the Hickory Moiety on the east. The carved effigies on the west were occupied by Skunk, Hawk, Fish, and Deer totems, each perfectly carved and painted, their expressions vigilant.
The path between them led to the narrow doorway that opened into the great structure.
The tchkofa consisted of a great round dome, with smaller earth lodges attached at each end by means of a short covered hallway. The smaller rooms were used when moiety business needed to be discussed in private. Hickory Moiety’s chamber lay to the north, Old Camp’s to the south.
“This is it,” Smoke Shield said under his breath.
“You’ll do fine,” Flying Hawk told him with a smile, reaching out to pat his shoulder before ducking into the cavelike passage.
Smoke Shield placed a hand to his breast in an effort to still his pounding heart; then he followed behind his uncle.
After the pure sunshine, the effect was like entering a pit. A low babble of voices went silent as Flying Hawk walked through the gloom to a stout wooden stool covered with cougar hides. It stood in the northern curve of the big earth-covered building. Smoke Shield fought the urge to squint and followed from long practice, trusting Uncle not to trip over something, or someone.
The place smelled smoky, perfumed with red cedar wood. As he passed one of the thick pine roof supports, his fingers traced the polished wood. How many fingers like his had caressed that same post, seeking reassurance in their passage? Without embarrassing himself he took his position behind Uncle’s right shoulder.
Thick logs supported the heavy roof. Stout cane poles had been laid for walls, the whole then covered with earth. Clay had been used to plaster the interior, and then painted in red and white pigments, the colors of chaos and order. To the north—just before the entrance to the Hickory Moiety hall—a clay altar, two paces long, and hip high, had been built. Upon this rested a large red cedar box made of perfectly joined wood. The outside was carved with the hand-eye symbol of the people, the eye rendered in copper with a large section of whelk shell for the pupil. In relief to either side, S-shaped images of Winged Serpent seemed to guard the seeing hand.
The sacred fire burned brightly in the tchkofa’s open center. Smoke Shield focused on it as his eyes began to adjust. The clay hearth contained four logs laid out north to south, east to west, their joined ends afire. He touched the shell gorget on his chest. Engraved in its concave surface was an image of Spider. The cross carved in the middle of its back represented the Sacred Fire taken from Father Sun. According to the story, no other animal had been able to bring fire back to a dark and unfriendly earth. Opossum had tried to carry it in his furry tail, but it caught fire; which was why to this day, his tail was hairless. When Vulture flew up to the Sky World, he placed fire on his head; and to this day his failure was marked by red, blistered-looking skin. Many-colored Crow made the next attempt, but the fire had scorched his feathers, which left crows eternally black. It was Spider who spun a web, and thus was able to tow fire back to earth. For that reason, Spider continued to build its web in the shape of sunlight.