People of the Earth (41 page)

 
          
 
"Like a witch,"
Owlclover
agreed. Then she said, "You will take all the men at first light and scour
every handbreadth out there. Hunt him down. If it's a witch—maybe someone we've
suspected—kill him. Kill him quickly. I don't want to be next."

 
          
 
A terrible silence settled on the lodge.
Someone they suspected? Black Hand!

 
          
 
The voices whispered frantically. Wake up!
Tell them! Tell them what you saw in the Dream!

 
          
 
Brave Man groaned, retreating from his quest
for the gray haze. He opened his eyes, blinked, and glanced around the dim
interior of the lodge. Sun Feathers had stopped by to feed him a vile-tasting
tea made from willow bark; despite its foulness, it had helped the pain. At the
same time, Sun Feathers had packed his wounded knee with a poultice of crushed
holly grape 1 to fight the infection. After the initial pain, Brave Man had
felt more comfortable.

 
          
 
"Pale Raven? Are you there?"

 
          
 
He could hear a stirring from across the
lodge, then a shuffling of hides. Her voice sounded muzzy with sleep.
"What is it? Do you need to urinate again? I'll get the bag and-"

 
          
 
"No. It's the Dream. I must stop
them."

 
          
 
She sat up, reaching to prod the embers in the
fire and adding cottonwood branches collected the night before. As flames rose
to light the lodge, she pulled the mass of her raven hair back with slim
fingers, studying him.

 
          
 
'The Dream?"

 
          
 
"Yes," he cried. "A war party
is leaving to raid the Black Point over on the Fat Beaver River. Flying Hawk is
leading them."

 
          
 
She pursed her lips. "I told you that
last night."

 
          
 
He nodded, swallowing. "Tell them not to
go. It will be a disaster. The Power's not right. They'll be discovered, led
into a trap. Some will die, others will be wounded. Tell them not to go."

 
          
 
She cocked her head, eyes narrowing uneasily.
"Very well."

 
          
 
"Hurry."

 
          
 
She reached for her dress and slipped her
moccasins on. Wrapping a robe around her shoulders, she ducked through the flap
and disappeared into the night.

 
          
 
Brave Man exhaled wearily and stared at the flames
crackling around the arm-thick branches. His heart beat strongly against his
breastbone, driven by the Power of the Dream. Beyond the lodge, the wind played
fitfully with the night.

 
          
 
He heard steps, and Flying Hawk ducked through
the flap, already dressed in the long war shirt of the Sun People. His pack
hung from one hand, war darts and
atlatl
in the
other. A tall, muscular warrior, he inspected Brave Man with keen eyes that
stared out from either side of a hawkish nose. Talons had been tattooed in red
on his hollow cheeks. For the raid he wore his hair up in a roach pinned by a
bone clip carved from a scapula. An amused smile bent his thin lips. "What
is this talk?"

 
          
 
Pale Raven slipped in behind him, moving to
her place across the lodge.

 
          
 
Brave Man pointed a finger at the man.
"Not talk—a Dream. The Black Point will ambush you. A man will see you
coming and run to warn the Black Point. I couldn't see it all, but the final
trap is in a narrow drainage between two sandstone-capped walls. Their darts
will rain down on you, and you won't be able to see to cast back at them.
They'll be hidden by the sandstone at the top. On uneven ground, in thick
brush, you can't cast uphill accurately. Two men—Flute and Two Shields—will die
in the trap. Others will be wounded as they flee. Two more will die as the
Black Point chase you away."

 
          
 
Flying Hawk gave him a disbelieving smile.
"Why should I believe you, Brave Man? This raid has been planned for a
long time. Hawks Beard began to talk about it in the middle of winter. He
scouted the camps of the Black Point and told us how to attack them. Now you
have killed Hawks Beard . . . and I will lead the raid. Do you act against
me?"

 
          
 
Brave Man met the warrior's stare. "I
have no love for the Black Point." He pulled back his hair to bare the
scar on his scalp. "They did this to me. Only through Power did I escape
from the Camp of the Dead where they tried to send me. I wish you luck in
killing all of them, but I can't ignore the Dream. When Power speaks, I must
listen. Power brought me to you. Perhaps it was to save the Broken Stones from
defeats such as I have Dreamed. Do not go on this raid!”

 
          
 
Flying Hawk laughed. "I've made Power of
my own, Brave Man. I cleansed myself and went to a high place to pray and call
upon Bear for courage and cunning. I received no vision of defeat."

 
          
 
"Don't go, Flying Hawk. I have told you
what I saw in the Dream. I can do no more."

 
          
 
Flying Hawk cast a quick glance across the
fire at Pale Raven. "My warriors are ready to leave. Perhaps we'll see if
this Dream of yours has any truth. But I will be most careful to keep from
being discovered." He jerked his head at Pale Raven. "She will take
good care of you until I return, I'm sure. Then we'll talk again."

 
          
 
"Don't go!" Brave Man shouted as the
warrior ducked through the lodge flap.

 
          
 
Pale Raven coolly ignored Flying Hawk's slur.
"He'll go. You couldn't have stopped him. This is his chance to fill Hawks
Beard's tracks as the greatest warrior of the Broken Stones. He thinks people
will look up to him, that his Power is as great as Hawks Beard's was." She
smiled humorlessly. "I wonder if he knows Hawks Beard sired his last child
off Flying Hawk's wife, Two Roses?"

           
 
Brave Man leaned his head back and grunted.
"One would get the feeling Hawks Beard took most of the women in
camp."

 
          
 
She studied him from behind lowered eyelids.
"He did. He had a way with women that left them wanting more. Unlike most
men, he didn't lose his hardness after he planted his seed. He knew women, knew
where to touch them, how to move to bring them a great deal of pleasure. He
claimed it was his special Power—one of the things that made him great in
war—and that he could bestow it with his seed into the women he took. I wasn't
the only one he fooled . . . just the only one who got caught."

 
          
 
"But you'd been caught before?"

 
          
 
She nodded easily. "I'd been caught
before." She poked at the fire again, unconcerned. "Perhaps I
offended Power somewhere along the way. I don't know."

 
          
 
"You sound like you don't care."

 
          
 
She leaned her head back, exposing the firm
lines of her throat. "You're young, Brave
Man.
Have you ever had a woman?"

 
          
 
"No."

 
          
 
"White Ash preoccupied you that
much?" She lifted a knowing eyebrow. "I could teach you many
things."

 
          
 
"Things learned from your husbands and
Hawks Beard?"

 
          
 
She laughed, flashing straight white teeth.
"Among others. I make no excuses. I know what I want out of life—and I
didn't get it from my first two husbands. I want power and prestige. I am a
sensual woman, Brave Man. I demand pleasure, whether it's a finely crafted
robe, soft furs to sleep on, or rich meat to eat. I wanted to be loved with
passion and vigor. My husbands gave me none of those things."

 
          
 
"Will you give me pleasure?"

 
          
 
The sultry look she gave him sent a thrill
through his body.

 
          
 
"To do so might cause you pain."

 
          
 
"Stand up," he ordered. "Take
your clothes off. I would like to look at you."

 
          
 
Without a change of expression, she rose to
her feet and slipped the soft leather of her dress over her head. She stood
before him, feet braced. Firelight caressed the smooth firmness of her flesh.
Her breasts were full and upright, unspoiled by an infant's suck; the nipples
tightened in the air. Her belly remained flat, muscular, leading down to the
black mat of her pubic hair. Muscles rippled in her powerful thighs.

 
          
 
She shook her head, the wealth of her shining
hair cascading over her broad shoulders. She met his appraising stare, a
defiant pride in her eyes. She looked magnificent, powerful. As she shifted,
the muscles in her belly tensed and changed the patterns of light.

 
          
 
He nodded and threw back his robe to expose
his stiffening manhood. 4 'Teach me what you know about pleasure. Teach me
everything."

 
          
 
Morning drifted softly out of the east as they
lay together. The weight of her nourished a curious contentment that spread
through his body and warmed his soul. He stroked the rounded curve of her
buttocks. Her hands cradled his head, fingers tracing the tops of his ears
while her hair spilled around them like a silken veil. Her fall breasts pressed
against his muscular chest. He began to respond again to the way she moved her
pubis against his.

 
          
 
"You learn well," she whispered.

 
          
 
"Who were these two husbands of
yours?"

 
          
 
She stared into his eyes, the smooth features
of her perfect face inscrutable in the faint light. "My first husband was
Flute. The other was Two Shields."

 
          
 
Brave Man
slitted
his eyes against the sensations rising from his pelvis. "They will die
with Flying Hawk."

 
          
 
She nodded. "If your Dream is true, Brave
Man.
Only if your Dream is true."

 
          
 
"It is."

 
          
 
The voices whispered, Yes . . . yes. His
manhood rose to meet the needs of her insistent body.