“You can do this,” Old White reassured. “I brought you to Silver Loon for a reason. She can help you.”
“She can make this go away?”
Silver Loon’s calming voice said, “I can help you to find the way. You must trust me.”
Anything, just get this over with. “I—I’m ready.”
She heard Silver Loon shift, then say, “Two Petals, I am handing you a cup of tea. Find my hand. That’s it. Now, as you take the cup, be careful not to spill anything. You must drink it all. After that, you will feel better. Do not fight; just let your souls float.”
Two Petals placed the thin rim to her lips. The liquid was cool, flavored with mint to cover a bitter taste. She gulped it frantically, feeling the chill rush through her hot gut.
“There, I’m done.”
“Good,” Silver Loon told her. “Now, you only need endure for a while and Sister Datura will come and Dance with your souls.”
“Sister Datura?”
“She will show you the way.”
Two Petals scooted imperceptibly back so her spine touched the uncomfortable wicker of the lodge wall. She was panting, taking shallow gasps of the hot air. The voices—stilled for the moment—began whispering just beyond her ear. She felt the pull, could feel herself slipping. No, not now.
She clenched her teeth and blinked at the stinging sweat that trickled into her eyes. Gods, couldn’t this just be over? It would be so easy. She just needed to turn, rip the cover away, and she’d fling herself out into the soothing chill of the day.
She swallowed hard, already seeing the disapproving expression that would mar Old White’s face, but she was going to do it. She couldn’t take another instant of this burning heat.
When she reached out, her arm seemed rubbery.
“Not yet,” a voice told her.
She jerked her head around, searching the darkness for the voice that had spoken so close to her ear. Sweat tickled as it ran down her chest. She gasped frantically. The world seemed to spin.
“Not long now. Come, take my hands. Come Dance with me.”
“Who, who are you?”
“I am your sister.”
“I don’t have a—”
“Shhh! Of course you do. We are all sisters. You, me, Old Heron, Nightshade, and so many, many others. Lichen came to you earlier. She, too, is my sister.”
From a great distance, Two Petals heard Silver Loon warn Old White, “Don’t. She’s falling into the Dance.”
Dance? A flash of light—golden, purple, and orange—flickered in the darkness.
Two Petals drew rapid breaths; her skin seemed to crawl loosely over her muscles and bones. A distant flute could be heard, its notes mellow and rising on the darkness. She could feel the blanket beneath her rising and shifting, as if the earth had gone fluid.
“What’s happening?”
“We are going to Dance the future. I want you to see the shape of things to come. Only then can you look back and see the path to your husband. Power calls, and you shall Dance with it.”
“I am afraid!”
“Reach out. Take my hands. Let me lift you.”
Two Petals extended her hands toward a magical glow that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow. She felt herself rise, her souls being pulled inexorably into the light … .
The fire crackled and spit futile sparks toward the high ceiling of Silver Loon’s house. Old White stared at the bags, boxes, jars, and bones. He sat on a pole bed along one wall and sponged Two Petals’ forehead with a damp cloth. The girl remained as still as the dead, the only signs of life the occasional gasped breath and the sometimes frantic movements of her eyes beneath closed lids. Despite the warm house, her flesh might have been cold clay.
“You were sure of the dose?” he asked again.
“One can never be sure,” Silver Loon replied from her backrest by the fire. She occupied herself sewing small white shell beads onto a fine blue dress she had taken from one of the boxes. “You have been around long enough to know the dangers of Dancing with Power. Sometimes, if the soul is found weak or cowardly, the beasts of the other worlds snap it up.”
“That was the story the great Lichen told, wasn’t it?”
“And, according to legend, after Birdman ate her, she came back alive, more Powerful than ever. She was the ruler behind Petaga’s throne.” She glanced in the direction of the great mound. “In those days, Cahokia reached its greatest Power. People came here from all over the world. And from here, they went back, filled with the Dream of Cahokia.”
“And now it is but the stuff of legends.”
“Polluted,” she said. “By that barbaric beast, Black Tooth, who lives in his pitiful temple.” She shook her head. “After Tharon’s taint had been burned away, Petaga built a five-story palace atop the great mound. Can you imagine?”