People of the Weeping Eye(55)

Old White nodded. “I’ve seen such things.”

“Where?”

“Among the Azteca, and at the ruins of Teotihuacan. And in the southwest, I’ve walked the crumbling walls of Talon Town. Heard the late-night wailing of murdered matrons. Like Sun Town, with its little red owls, this, too, will fade. Cities, like men, are born, grow, and then age and die.”

“You sound saddened by that.”

He shrugged. “It is the way of things. That’s all. In spite of all my travels, I have learned that only the sun, sky, water, and earth are eternal. What is made must crack and collapse.”

“What else have you learned, Runner? You have seen more than any man alive, talked to peoples beyond number. Of all those places and peoples, what great truth have you discovered?”

He grunted. “I found no great truth … only an endless number of small ones. And people”—he raised a finger—“are just people. Great or small, mighty or meek, no matter their delusions of greatness and influence, at root they are the same beast as a woodcutter, farmer, or weaver.”

“And for that you had to travel the world?”

“I did.” He smiled to himself as he carefully rearranged Two Petals’ long hair on the bedding. To carry the girl back, Silver Loon had asked some of the local village men for help. Despite their combined efforts, she and Old White wouldn’t have been able to negotiate the steep stairway to the house atop its mound.

He fixed his gaze on Silver Loon. “But you would not believe the things I’ve seen. War, hunger, blinding blowing snow, sunset on the gulf, a bearded white man. The midnight lights that twinkle, beam, and glow in the far north … So many things that can be described, but never understood. I have seen cactuses the height of trees. A canyon that splits the world. Mountains that spew fire and smoke above the clouds. Can you believe herds of buffalo that blacken the landscape for as far as the eye can see? Or fish out on the gulf that jump from the water and fly off on clear shining wings?”

She arched a suspicious eyebrow. “I’ve heard of the buffalo, and even seen the night lights. But these other things?” She shook her head. “No.”

“They are as real as I am.”

She glanced at him. “Did you ever find love?”

He lowered his eyes. “Several times. Once with you.”

“Then why did you leave? Do not tell me it was over this crime you committed in the south. I would have taken you no matter how polluted and guilty you were.”

He sighed. “I suppose I left because I was deeply, truly, content with you. I was in love, and loved back. You lifted the darkness from my souls, and I loved living again.”

“Was that such a burden?”

He glanced at the fabric pack resting atop the cedar one beside the door. “No, it was an injustice.”

She had followed his gaze to the pack. “You could have just thrown it into the river, perhaps smashed it to pieces and tossed it into a busk pit somewhere as an offering of appeasement to the gods. You didn’t have to continue punishing yourself.”

“You don’t know what I did.”

“I know more than you think.”

“Really?”

She shrugged, going back to her beadwork. “I looked in the sack once while you slept.”

He swallowed hard. “And what did you see?”

“Your rotted conscience.”

“Well, it is of no matter. I am going back. What was done shall be made right.”

“I suppose that will allow your souls to travel to the Sky World without regret. And once there, will you be received by your Ancestors with open arms?”

He glanced up at the soot-thick bones. “I don’t know what to believe about the afterlife. Among the Azteca, I saw people sacrificed to their rain god.”

“That happens here. Prisoners are killed before the palaces and thrown down the mound.”

“One or two, yes. But not thousands. For four days, from the first light of dawn to the last rays of sunset a solid line of captives was marched up the high pyramid. They were bent backward over a stone, their beating hearts cut from their bodies. Then the corpses were tossed bleeding down the steep stairs. As fast as they fell, slaves hauled them off to the fields for fertilizer.” He saw her shock. “They painted their tall stone mound with blood. It shone crimson in the sunlight.” A pause. “And the rains didn’t come. So seven days later, they started the whole ugly process again.”

“You joke.”

He sadly shook his head. “How can one believe in the gods after seeing something like that?”

“But you still believe in Power. You followed your Dreams to this girl.”