Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear
It Dreams in Me (19 page)
She opened her eyes.
Strongheart’s face had turned pure gold and was fading into the light, becoming one with it.
She just barely heard him say, “Let go now. Let the light lead you into the Land of the Dead, Sora.”
The glittering torrent swept her higher and higher; then it swooped downward like going over a powerful waterfall, and she was borne relentlessly toward what at first appeared to be nothing more than a tiny point of darkness. Very quickly, that point became a massive black whirlpool.
“Strongheart!” she cried, and flailed in the brilliance, fighting to swim away.
Breath rushed in and out of her lungs while the whirlpool grew larger, the blackness like nothing she had ever known. It pressed on her ears and eyes until she could neither hear nor see.
She felt herself being sucked down the ebony throat of the whirlpool and screamed.
Soundlessly.
Her cry tore from her mouth and vanished into emptiness. She was drowning, the blackness filling up her lungs and flooding her blood, washing away every speck of the light that had, only moments ago, permeated her body.
Out of nothingness a familiar old voice called,
“It’s long past time you came to ask my advice, my daughter.”
“It’s long past time you came to ask my advice, my daughter.”
RAIN PATTERED ON THE ROOF AND DRIPPED DOWN THE smokehole, where it sizzled in the fire. The scents of wet wood and damp earth filled the chamber.
Sea Grass and Bittern had been awakened long before dawn by Tern, Bittern’s daughter, who’d brought them a steaming pot of cornmeal mush for breakfast, then hastily left to take care of other duties.
Bittern clutched her bowl in her hands, eating slowly, as if greatly enjoying the dish. “I swear this is the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten.”
Sea Grass scowled down into her bowl. “That’s just because you fear it’s your last. To me this tastes like it was dredged from a muck pond. What did she put in this mush?”
Bittern shrugged. “Cornmeal.”
“Well, then it was moldy.”
“Who cares? At least we are warm and well-fed. I didn’t expect to be alive this morning.”
Sea Grass glanced at her. “After Thrush and Moorhen, Wink’s
resolve probably evaporated. She doesn’t have the stomach for murder. It’s a failing that will be her ruin.”
resolve probably evaporated. She doesn’t have the stomach for murder. It’s a failing that will be her ruin.”
Bittern cackled suddenly. “Hallowed Ancestors, I wish I’d seen the look on Wink’s face when they told her Long Fin was dead.”
Sea Grass dipped another spoonful of mush, but didn’t eat it. “Perhaps now she knows how I felt when Sora murdered my son. At least I have other children. Wink has no one.” She ate the mush, wrinkled her nose, and set the half-empty bowl aside. Her belly had started to ache.
Bittern ate a few more bites, got a sour expression, and sniffed her mush. “You may be right; that cornmeal was moldy.”
“I thought you liked it.”
She dropped a hand to her stomach. “I did, but it’s not sitting well. I feel like I just ate a live raccoon.”
Sea Grass chuckled. “There’s a racket down there, eh?”
“Yes, I …” The bowl dropped from Bittern’s hands and cracked on one of the hearthstones. Her eyes widened. “No. It’s impossible.”
In panic, Sea Grass lurched to her feet. “Your daughter made this, didn’t she?”
“She said she did!”
“Well, then, it can’t be …” The cramps doubled her over.
Bittern fell to her knees and started retching as though trying to vomit up her insides.
Sea Grass sank back to the floor and stared at the doorway. She’d been expecting Feather Dancer, or perhaps Lean Elk.
She, of all people, had underestimated Wink. Now it was too late.
A low, desperate laugh shook her, and then the lethal cramps began in earnest … .
AN OLD WOMAN’S VOICE FILTERED THROUGH THE DARKNESS, and images began to form. Campfires sparkled in the distance … . Gigantic trees thrust like black spears into the belly of the night sky … . A trail appeared at Sora’s feet, faint and overgrown, but there.
“Mother?” she called.
She walked up the trail toward the distant campfires.
Shadows moved through the forest around her. She caught sight of pearl necklaces and pale white faces.
Footsteps stirred the grasses somewhere to her left. She spun around with her heart in her throat, trying to see through the dimness.
“Mother!” she called again. “Where are you?”
Horror gripped her when a frail old woman stepped out of the trees and onto the trail ahead. She had her gray hair pinned into a bun on top of her head and wore a silver dress that seemed made of pure moonlight. Her deeply wrinkled face
gleamed with the majesty of crushed abalone shell. “What took you so long?”
gleamed with the majesty of crushed abalone shell. “What took you so long?”
Sora’s throat ached with tears that her eyes could not shed. “Mother. Oh, Mother.” She blurted the one thing she had always longed to say: “I didn’t kill Father. I know you think I did, but he killed himself!”
She ran forward, and Chieftess Yellow Cypress turned and hobbled up the trail. No matter how hard Sora ran, her mother stayed just ahead of her.
“Mother, I need to talk with you. Wait, please wait for me?”
“Our people have been waiting for you to come here for winters, my daughter. We’re tired of waiting.”
Movement flickered in the trees ahead, and two ghostly forms stepped out. As her mother passed between them, she disappeared, and the white shapes drifted toward Sora with their ghostly arms out, as though to embrace her.
“Mother? Mother, come back. Help me!”
Murmuring filled the night, the ghosts speaking in a language she did not know.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
As they drifted closer, she saw the magnificent clothing they wore. Their spiderweb capes were woven so fine the delicate mesh floated. The women’s faces were painted the color of fresh snow, but their eye sockets were empty and black.
They stopped a few paces in front of her and beckoned to her to step forward. Her heart shriveled.
She backed up in fear. “Tell me what you want?”
The women drifted out across the grass, toward the trees.
As though her feet understood something she refused to believe, she followed them.
Just as they entered the trees, the women evaporated like mist beneath a hot sun.
… And she heard a woman crying, the tears coming from deep in the chest—terrible tears that tore the souls.
Sora walked into the dark tangled forest, searching for her.
The trails were twisted and overgrown.
Finally, she ducked beneath a low-hanging branch and saw her mother sitting on a log with her arm around a young woman who was half-transparent, as though she was half here in the Land of the Dead, and half somewhere else. The woman had her head down, buried in her hands. Tears leaked between her fingers and dropped to the ground, where they rested like raindrops on the grass.
Chieftess Yellow Cypress angrily said, “She’s been waiting for you for so long she’s given up hope.”
In confusion, Sora said, “But, who is she?”
The young woman lifted her head, and Sora stared into her own eyes.
THE DEEP BLUE GLEAM OF PREDAWN STREAKED THE COUNCIL chamber. Swirling dust motes lived in the azure shafts of light, dancing and swaying with the movements of those assembled.
Wink stood by the fire, watching the slave, Iron Hawk, dip cups of tea from the pot and deliver them to the matrons seated on three of the four benches. Twenty warriors from each clan stood around the walls. They wore worried expressions.
Voices continued to rise from the plaza outside, where the members of the Water Hickory Clan had gathered into an angry mob. News of the murders had spread throughout the night, reaching even some of the outlying villages. One hundred of Rockfish’s warriors surrounded the base of Wink’s mound with their war clubs clutched in tight fists. If she didn’t do something soon, there would be bloodshed by sunrise.
Wink said, “First, let us all offer our condolences to Tern over the death of her mother.”
Wigeon, Birch, and then Wink bowed their heads to Tern.
Enraged whispers went round the room, people speculating on who had murdered the elders of Water Hickory Clan. Most gazes pinned Wink.
“I thank you,” Tern responded. Her thin face was pale and drawn, her lips pinched. She wore a beautiful ivory dress decorated with hundreds of small copper beads.
Wink lifted her voice, “And next let us welcome the new matron of Water Hickory Clan, Matron Tern.”
Again, nods went round, and Tern whispered something no one could hear, but it sounded pleasant enough. She had always been a shy woman. Shy, but astute when it came to grasping political intricacies.
Birch got to her feet and said, “I would like to speak first, if that meets with the council’s approval.” When no one objected, Birch continued, “We have an angry mob building outside, and in a matter of days, as news of the murders spreads across our nation, there will be rioting in every Water Hickory village. I believe our main task today is to determine how to stop it. I don’t want any more innocent lives—”
Wigeon drew herself up and said, “But what about the murders? Shouldn’t we find the culprit first, then deal with the problems of distant villages?”
“Don’t be an old fool!” Birch said. “What’s more important, one murderer, or saving the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands of our people?”
Wigeon hunched as though she’d been struck in the belly. “Don’t you call me a fool, Birch! I haven’t ruled you out as the one who gave the orders!”
“Me?” Birch cried. “Why, you—”
“Matrons,” Wink said in a loud, authoritative voice. “Let us save our accusations for later. Since Water Hickory Clan is the aggrieved party, I yield to Matron Tern.” Wink sat down.
Tern looked up suddenly, her eyes wide, as though her souls
had been drifting far away and had jerked back to her body when she’d heard her name. “I’m sorry, High Matron, what did you say?”
had been drifting far away and had jerked back to her body when she’d heard her name. “I’m sorry, High Matron, what did you say?”
More softly, Wink repeated, “Your clan is the aggrieved party, Tern. Tell us what you think the nation’s priorities should be: Should we pour our efforts into finding the murderer, or focus on calming the violence that is erupting across the Black Falcon Nation?”
Tern looked at Wink with sad eyes, and it went straight to Wink’s heart.
Yes, the price of leadership is high, isn’t it?
Tern inhaled a breath as though to give her strength. “I believe we must always look to the safety of our nation first. I—”
Outraged whispers came from the Water Hickory warriors leaning against the northern wall to Wink’s right. Their expressions turned ugly. Feather Dancer, who stood to her left with twenty Shadow Rock warriors, straightened.
Tern was trembling, but she got to her feet and gave her warriors a piercing look that her mother would have envied. The whispers died in a heartbeat. “Matrons, please forgive my warriors. They do not yet know me.” The threat in her voice was chilling. She stared at each warrior in turn. “Very soon, they will learn that I accept nothing less than absolute obedience.”
Half of her warriors smirked; the other half straightened, a new respect in their eyes. Wink suspected that Tern was taking note of every smirk, and would, before nightfall, have weeded out each undesirable man.
Tern looked back at the matrons assembled on the benches; her gaze went to Wink and remained. “High Matron, I sincerely regret the difficulties caused by my clan in recent moons—”
Curses and insults rang from her warriors, and Tern whirled
and pointed. “Cooter, until we know if Chief Pocket Mouse is alive or dead, you are my new war chief.”
and pointed. “Cooter, until we know if Chief Pocket Mouse is alive or dead, you are my new war chief.”
He was an ugly man with a badly pockmarked face, but twice the height of most people in the room. He squared his broad shoulders and said, “Yes, Matron.”
Tern eyed the rebellious warriors. “If any other man in our clan opens his mouth, kill him.”
Cooter gave her a solemn nod. “Yes, Matron.”
The offensive men scowled at Cooter until he turned and glared at each one with fiery eyes. Tern had chosen well. The men went so quiet they seemed to fade into the walls.
Tern exhaled hard and hung her head for a few moments before continuing. “I am very tired, Matrons. Tired of the constant bickering between our clans, tired of making war on people I do not believe should be our enemies. Tired of death.” She looked up with moist eyes. “I give you my oath that I will work very hard to correct the errors made by Matron Sea Grass and—and my mother.” Saying the word hurt, for her mouth quivered before she pressed her lips tightly together. “If you will give my clan a chance.”
Wink said, “Tell us what you need, Matron Tern, and we will help you all we can.”
Birch and Wigeon both watched Wink with curious eyes.
Tern said, “I will dispatch messengers immediately to our village matrons and chiefs, telling them to placate their villagers until I arrive.”
Birch said, “You’re going to personally visit every one of the sixteen Water Hickory villages? That will take at least one moon, maybe two.”
“Yes,” Tern nodded. “I realize that, but I think I must sit down with each leader and talk about the future of our clan.”
Wink nodded in admiration. Tern could have simply ordered
every village official to meet with her in Blackbird Town, but if she went to them she had a good chance of winning their support. Support she would desperately need on the long road ahead.
every village official to meet with her in Blackbird Town, but if she went to them she had a good chance of winning their support. Support she would desperately need on the long road ahead.
Wink said, “Who will take your place in the council while you are away?”
“My daughter, Kite. I know she is young, fourteen winters, but I believe many of you ascended to leadership around that same age. When he returns from battle, I will ask my brother, Chief Pocket Mouse, to remain here as her advisor while I am gone. If that meets the council’s approval.”
Birch said, “I have no objections. What do you say, Wigeon? You became the matron of Shoveler Clan when you’d seen thirteen winters. Will you welcome young Kite?”
“Of course I will,” Wigeon said indignantly. “But I have a question.”
“Yes,” Wink said.
Wigeon thrust a hand out at Tern. “I don’t think she’s safe wandering around the nation without a large war party. Water Hickory Clan has, in the last few days, lost most of its best warriors. Who will escort and protect her?”
Nods and whispers filtered through the room.
Birch said, “Why don’t we all contribute warriors to her party? I’ll offer one hundred warriors from Bald Cypress Clan.”
“That’s very generous, Birch,” Wink said, “but there is too much fear and suspicion among our clans right now; I fear it may be dangerous for Matron Tern. I was thinking about using Rockfish’s warriors. I have already spoken with War Chief Bog about helping us to suppress violence tonight. I think he would be open to this as well.”
Wigeon’s eyes lit up. “Yes, they are outsiders. They have no favorites among our clans. Tern, what do you think about that?”
Tern folded her hands, considering the ramifications. “Providing that I can also take twenty of my own warriors, I see no problem. I would be grateful for the help.”
“How many should we send, Wink?” Birch asked.
Wink looked back at Tern. “Matron? How many warriors would you like to accompany you?”
Like a seasoned clan matron, she turned to her new war chief. “Cooter, what is your opinion?”
Cooter stepped forward, standing straight and tall. “As many as we are offered, Matron. This is not simply a matter of protecting you. Every hand that can wield a bow will add to your authority.”
Tern gave him a pleased smile. “I agree with my war chief, High Matron. We would be grateful for all the help the council can give us.”
Birch said, “I vote we temporarily assign all three hundred of Rockfish’s warriors to serve Matron Tern.”
“I agree,” Wigeon said.
“As do I.” Wink longed to sit down. Her legs felt weak. “Before I dismiss the council, there is another matter we must discuss.”
Birch frowned. “Yes?”
Wink concentrated on keeping her face immobile and her voice even. “The death of Chief Long Fin makes it imperative that we find a new high chief or high chieftess for the Black Falcon Nation. I will be in mourning for several days, but after that, I will be open for suggestions.”
Tears filled Birch’s eyes. Wigeon clamped her jaw and squinted at the fire.
Tern said, “The entire nation, including my clan, grieves with you over the loss of your son, High Matron. Water Hickory Clan is personally indebted to you for your generosity over his murder.”
Wink said, “If there are no other matters to be discussed, I will dismiss this council.”
No one said a word.
“I pray we all have a safe day.” Wink strode for the council chamber door.
She stood outside her house in the warm flower-scented breeze while everyone filed out. Rain clouds had gathered to the south, blotting out the few remaining Star People, pushing toward Blackbird Town like a black wall.
The last to exit was Tern. She stood less than a pace from Wink, staring at her for a long time. Finally, she managed a small sad smile, and Wink smiled back, sealing the bargain that the protection of the Black Falcon Nation was passing from one woman to another—from one high matron to another.
Tern walked away surrounded by her warriors.
Feather Dancer came up beside Wink. He had one hand propped on his belted war club. With the other, he silently instructed his warriors to create a ring around Wink.
“Matron,” he said, with his eyes still on the departing Water Hickory warriors, “I received word just before the council meeting that Rockfish will return this evening. He’s bringing the bones of Chief Long Fin. I request permission to send a party out to meet him and escort him safely into town.”
“Yes, of course. Do whatever you think is necessary, War Chief.” Her vision shimmered suddenly, and she swayed on her feet.
Feather Dancer gripped her arm. “Our warriors have been straggling in throughout the night. We don’t know how many survived the battle, but as they return, I will assign those still in possession of their senses to guard your house.”
She nodded. “Wake me immediately if
anything
requires my attention.”
anything
requires my attention.”
“I will, Matron.”
He released her arm and held the door curtain aside for her to enter the Matron’s House.
She walked down the long, dimly lit corridor feeling utterly numb. Clearwing marched almost silently behind her.
If she could just get a few moments of sleep, perhaps she could stand it when Rockfish arrived.
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