People of the Weeping Eye(92)

With Two Petals’ help, he pushed the craft into the slow waters of the stream. Stepping in, he took inventory. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Too many times, he had returned to one of his canoes only to find it stripped. Here, the Power of the manitou seemed to have been all the protection they needed.

As they nosed out into the Mother River’s current, Old White bent to his paddle. Today, he would miss the strong warriors and their rope.

“Too bad,” Two Petals told him from the bow. “We just missed him.”

“Who?”

She pointed over his shoulder. “Not that man.”

He shot a glance behind him, seeing a solitary canoe hugging the bank as its occupant paddled upriver. A black-and-white dog stood atop one of the packs, ears pricked, watching them with interest.

“Trader?” Old White said aloud.

“No, he’s long gone. Headed to the gulf.”

Old White stroked only hard enough to keep them stationary with the bank as Trader closed the distance. When he finally drew up, it was to the accompaniment of Swimmer’s happy barking. The dog bounced from pack to pack.

“Hush,” Trader ordered, and Swimmer, good dog that he was, stood with his tail waving.

“This is a surprise,” Old White said by way of greeting. “I figured you’d be in a Michigamea Council House about now, trying to figure out how you were going to keep that copper from staying behind with the chief.”

Trader refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing on one of the packs in his canoe. “I spent a lot of time thinking about that.” He frowned. “And I thought a lot about how Two Petals knew where to find my camp that night … how she knew about the copper. All of it … it just doesn’t make sense.” He looked around, eyes settling on the far bank. “I’ve been up and down the river, seen a lot of things. Heard a lot of stories, but nothing like this.”

“I’ve been a lot of places, too,” Old White replied. “More than you. For some years I was even able to talk myself into believing that Power didn’t exist. That everything that happens in life is just random, luck, or coincidence. The truest of things are those that we try so hard to discredit, but cannot. For reasons I do not understand, we’ve been chosen. Something’s happening, something that wants us to go home, Trader.”

“Not you two,” Two Petals interjected. “Split Sky City is the last place you have to go.”

Trader glanced at her for the first time, then lowered his eyes. “I killed my brother. That’s why I left.” He sighed. “I’m Chief Clan—expected to set an example for the rest of the people. From the time we are children we’re taught to control ourselves, to act with restraint, and to be virtuous. We are supposed to balance rage with thought.”

“And you were only human?”

“My brother …” He hesitated. “We were twins. Not identical, mind you. Not in looks or behavior. We were completely different. He was the one who could never control his passions. He was the red brother, the plotter and schemer. Everyone looked up to me.”

Old White nodded. “Oh, I know about twins. They tend to run in the Chief Clan.” He didn’t want to ask yet, didn’t want to hope. There would be time for that.

Trader gave him a hesitant look. “I suppose you are thinking about heading down the Tenasee, past the Kaskinampo to the Yuchi towns? Trading for a portage into the head of the Black Warrior?”

“It would be a little easier to portage to the head of the Horned Serpent. Follow that down, then back up the Black Warrior. We’ll see when we get there.” He glanced at Two Petals. “Is there any special way you don’t want to go?”

Two Petals had been making faces at Swimmer. “No way at all.”

Trader glanced over his shoulder. “Well, we might want to be at it. I spent most of yesterday afternoon hiding in the rushes. Something happened back there. It was like kicking a wasp’s nest. Warriors were canoeing back and forth, searching the trails. I waited until dark to make my way upriver.”

“A warrior was killed in a raid. We spent the night with the happy raiders.”

“Then it might not be smart for a couple of canoes full of strangers to be caught in these parts.”

“Might not indeed.”

Trader shot him an uneasy look. “I don’t know how this will turn out, but I’m with you.”

Two Petals’ voice came low and ominous. “Don’t worry. We will be perfectly safe.”

Trader looked sick. “I feel so much better.”





A low call from the darkness outside his house brought Paunch awake. He blinked, tried to pull his wits from the Dream where he’d been casting a net from his canoe, and sat up. To his surprise, the fire in the hearth was crackling; yellow tongues of flame illuminated the inside of his humble sapling dwelling.