People of the Weeping Eye(53)

Silver Loon sat to the left. He could hear her shuffling as she prepared the last of her things: a pot of water, a branch of sage, tobacco, and the cup of tea she had brewed earlier. Before entering the lodge, they had disrobed in the cold air while flakes of white snow melted on their skin. They had offered prayers to the four directions, to Father Sky, and finally to Mother Earth. Silver Loon had blessed the water, sage, and tea. Then, one by one, they had placed the stones on the hard earth at the center of the lodge and seated themselves, shivering and puffing white breath. The last one to enter, Old White had reached over and draped the covering across the low doorway to seal them in blackness.

“Water is life,” Silver Loon said softly as she reached into the water pot and sprinkled it on the glowing rocks.

Steam hissed, exploding from the stones and rising. The first faint touches began to caress Old White’s aged hide.

“Fire is life.” Silver Loon sprinkled the stones again.

“In it we are cleansed,” Old White added. “Let our souls wash clean.”

“Purify our bodies.”

Steam hissed angrily as Silver Loon added more water.

Old White could feel prickles of heat eating at his skin. He drew a deep breath of the hot wet air. How long had it been since his last ritual bath? Too many moons. A man needed this to cleanse his souls, purge his body, and reorder his universe.

While the idea of a sweat had appealed to him, the purpose behind it had left him uneasy. He remembered the certainty in Silver Loon’s eyes as she had said, “She is fighting the Power. Until she gives herself to it, she will be tortured, unpredictable, and dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” he had asked incredulously. “She’s just a girl.”

“Didn’t you tell me you took her out of a battle? Didn’t you say she witched an A’khota chief?”

“I think he was sick from something else.”

“All these years, and you still delude yourself.”

“I’m not—”

“She called you from halfway across the world, and you still doubt her Power?”

“She kept appearing in my Dreams.”

“Do not let her fill your nightmares.”

He had paused, meeting her knowing gaze.

Silver Loon finally asked, “What is this all about?”

“I’m not sure. I was in Oraibi. A mesa-top city far to the southwest. It happened in a kiva. During a Dance, a Katsina appeared to me.”

“A what?”

“An explanation would make no sense to you. All that matters is that the Katsina told me to go home. That the way would be long. I started four days later. I’ve crossed half the world since.”

“Called by this girl.”

“That came later, while I was with the Caddo.”

She had nodded. “It all goes back to the past, doesn’t it?”

“What happened back then …” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Why Power would take such steps to set things right. There’s no need to involve Two Petals—no need for such extremes.”

“And just what did you think would restore the balance?”

“It’s simple, really. All I needed to do was die.”

She had studied him thoughtfully. “Whatever it was that you did was but the beginning. This is about more than just your actions. It has grown, spiraling, like a raging inferno spun from a carelessly tossed ember.” Her eyes went vacant. “You are at the center of a struggle that was begun long ago. Darkness and light. Chaos and order. Red and white. It always goes back to the passions between the brothers.”

At her words, a cold chill ran through his souls. “And I suppose murder is at the heart of it?”

She had nodded, eyes like dark moons. “Oh, yes. You see, in the beginning, Wolf Dreamer killed his brother.”





“I’m scared,” Two Petals said softly, her chin quivering. Her bare skin prickled and burned from the relentless steam. She could feel it, like little needles burrowing into her hide. A trickle of sweat ran down her forehead to burn salty in her right eye. She rubbed at her face, now slick and wet. Each breath was like a hot knife in her throat. Breathing through her nose was like drawing in stilettos of fire.

“Don’t be afraid,” Silver Loon soothed. “Relax. Breathe. Feel the tension drain from your limbs.”

She heard Old White run his hands over his arms and legs, slicking the beading sweat over his skin. As more steam hissed up from the stones, Two Petals tried to curl into a tight ball.

“It’s hot,” Two Petals protested.

“You will grow used to it,” Silver Loon told her. “If your souls slip from your body, we will catch them.”