People of the Earth (60 page)

 
          
 
"And just moving around will leave you
aching and tired," she mumbled to herself. "Getting too old for your
own good."

 
          
 
One of the dogs pricked up its ears and sat
up, staring off to the west. Then the old black bitch who slept by the side of
the lodge doorway stood and barked.

 
          
 
Larkspur tottered to her feet and stepped out
for a better view. She had to shade her eyes against the sun. A lone figure
approached, traveling in a distance-eating trot.

 
          
 
"Cattail," she said as she blinked
against the light.

 
          
 
She sighed and returned to the shade, where
she settled herself and waited. What brings him back? They dig their fill of
biscuit root already?

 
          
 
She peered up at
Green
Mountain
. When the dry winds blew hot across the
Coldwater
Basin
and the sagebrush shimmered in the heat,
she'd be wishing she were up there. Maybe it would be a good year to camp up by
the moss spring.
Bullrush
grew in the spring's soggy
soils. They'd had a wet year, and the mosquitoes would come in swarms. In the
high country they could avoid the worst of the plague. Not only that, but a
stand of
subalpine
fir grew up there. The sap could
be collected and mixed with mint and mountain oregano, then burned to keep the
bugs away. The resulting black smudge would smoke clothing and purify the air.

 
          
 
They needed more sap anyway. She'd burned the
last of her supply with black larkspur when lice had shown up in Tuber's
clothing and hair. They'd smoked all their bedding and hides to drive the
little pests away.

 
          
 
Cattail called a greeting at the edge of the
camp and stopped long enough to duck into
Limbercone's
lodge. He emerged with a water skin and drank greedily. He brought the water
with him as he joined Larkspur and squatted in the shade.

 
          
 
"Greetings, Grandmother. It's a long
run."

 
          
 
"And a warm day to run in for a
change." She blinked at the constant irritation in her eyes. Too much wood
smoke during her life, she supposed. "You're back early. Are the
collecting sacks full?"

 
          
 
Cattail wiped at the sweat on his broad
forehead and squinted out across the sagebrush. "Mostly. The others will
probably start back tomorrow morning."

 
          
 
Larkspur waved away a fly. "And what
else?"

 
          
 
Cattail draped callused hands over his knees
and settled back on his heels. "Little Toe passed us on the way from Three
Forks back to his wife's people at
Badwater
."

 
          
 
"And?"

           
 
"He's worried." Cattail exhaled to
express his unease. "
Owlclover
is talking about
witching."

 
          
 
"Three Forks is always worried about
witching."

 
          
 
"I know. But Little Toe grew up there. He
said that as much as Green Fire worried about it,
Owlclover
is worse. He said his aunt is almost crazy. I guess Shadblow, the man married
to Starwort, saw a witch."

 
          
 
Larkspur straightened. “Saw one?''

 
          
 
"That's what Little Toe says. Someone
spied on Three Forks. They found tracks . . . and Shadblow says he saw someone
out in the sagebrush."

 
          
 
"But he didn't talk to him? Didn't
recognize him?"

 
          
 
Cattail grimaced. "Not from what Little
Toe says. He didn't really want to talk about it. We had to dig the story out
of him. He's uneasy, a little frightened himself. He knows how Three Forks
feels about witching, but he's also lived with Bone Ring long enough to have
better ideas. The worst thing is that whoever this witch was, he was hanging
around when Green Fire died."

 
          
 
"Uh-huh," Larkspur grunted. She gave
him a glance from the corner of her eye. "And what's the rest?"

 
          
 
"Remember that streak of green flame that
burned across the sky? Basket lost a baby when that happened. Little Toe says
his sister is worse now than Green Fire or even Owl-clover ever thought about
being." Cattail continued to gaze at the cool slopes of
Green
Mountain
. "
Owlclover
is talking about accusing Black Hand of witchcraft during the Gathering."

 
          
 
Larkspur rubbed her face with a callused hand.
"That wouldn't be good." She thought about it for a moment. "But
no one actually saw Black Hand."

 
          
 
Cattail shook his head. "No one really
saw anything—at least that's what I got from Little Toe."

 
          
 
Larkspur narrowed her eyes. Black Hand would
come to Round Rock camp before he went to the Gathering. That gave her a little
time. "You know, once someone openly accuses Black Hand of witching—especially
in the middle of the Gathering—it will go around like wildfire. And he'll be
traveling with us."

           
 
Cattail chewed his lip. "I thought it was
important enough to come tell you.
Limbercone
is
worried. She thought that maybe Black Hand might already be here. I know he's
coming."

 
          
 
She studied him thoughtfully. "What else
do you think, Cattail? You've always had a good head on your shoulders."

 
          
 
"I think that no matter what happens,
Black Hand is in trouble. I don't think anyone will attack him at the
Gathering. People will just talk. But Three Forks has a lot of status. What
People there say will carry weight." Cattail spread his hands. "I've
always liked Black Hand. If he told people he'd lost his Power, that would go a
long way toward lessening their fears."

 
          
 
"It would." People know that a witch
doesn't marry. Larkspur pulled at her chin. "Tell me, you've always
listened and watched. You keep a curb on your tongue and don't wag it for the
joy of hearing yourself talk. I've long respected that in you. You've known
Black Hand for many seasons. What do you think about him and Bitterbrush?"

 
          
 
Cattail gave her a loose shrug. "I think
she'll take him. Yes, I watched Black Hand when Warm Fire was dying. He desires
her—but he couldn't let it be known. Not with her husband—whom she loved—dying
in front of her eyes. I know my daughter. Her heart still aches for Warm Fire,
but she's a practical woman. I think she understands the status she'll gain
through Black Hand. She knows people will say he gave up Power for her."

 
          
 
Larkspur nodded. "That they will—and
everyone knows a witch doesn't lie with a woman. It would drain his
Power."

 
          
 
Cattail cocked his head. "The best of
both situations?"

 
          
 
Larkspur smiled her satisfaction. "That's
what I've always wanted. It will take the strength out of
Owlclover's
accusation and blow her words away with the wind."

 
          
 
"There's something else that Little Toe
mentioned."

 
          
 
She waited.

 
          
 
Cattail tilted his head, a glint in his eye.
"Not Three Forks ... but
Badwater
."

 
          
 
"What?" Larkspur slapped gnarled
hands on bony knees.

           
 
“Is Bone Ring off on a witching bent, too? I
thought she had more sense."

 
          
 
Cattail raised an eyebrow. "Little Toe
says that Bone Ring is fretting about the Sun People. I guess Half Moon ran
into some Wolf warriors. The story is that they'd wiped out a camp of Sun
People just north of the
Sideways
Mountains
. Bone Ring is starting to worry. We've all
heard the stories that have come down from the north about how the Sun People
make war. When they can't kill others and take their territory, they kill
themselves. Bone Ring need only step out her door and look up at the
Sideways
Mountains
right behind her camp to know how close
those Sun People came. Bad-water lies just down from one of the passes. She
says the Wolf People are nervous, that something happened in the north,
and—"

 
          
 
"Bah!" Larkspur sucked her toothless
gums. "The north's the north. Sun People aren't coming here. That's just
another story to stir people up. Bone Ring ought to know better. Let the Sun
People come. When we see their scouts on this side of the
Sideways
Mountains
, we'll send you and the others to chase
them back with their tails between their legs. What are a bunch of wild-buffalo
hunters to us? They're no threat."

 
          
 
Cattail tilted his head uncertainly, lost in
his thoughts.

 
          
 
Larkspur turned back to important things. Yes.
Black Hand and Bitterbrush. That's the answer. Bitterbrush is no fool.

 
          
 
Brave Man hitched his way along the narrow
trail that wound through the trees. He'd learned to live with pain. But on this
day, searing agony lanced up from his knee to mix with the throb of his
constant headache. The joint had healed—the bone grown together and fused. It
would take his weight, even if it would never bend again. In silent misery, he
endured.

 
          
 
They traveled through black timber here,
following the trails his warriors had scouted. The
Grass
Meadow
Mountains
seemed like a paradise. The maze of shadowy
trails through the timber gave way to secluded meadows, where elk and buffalo
grazed. The dizzying heights allowed a man to look out over the vast, irregular
plains to the east, the eye casting forever to the infinite horizon. Truly,
this place might be the top of the world.

 
          
 
Behind him came the main body of the Broken
Stones. The young women had left their children in care of the elders and
fanned out to trap game and to hunt—or to raise the alarm to defend the band
should any of the Wolf People slip through the lines of warriors. Nor would any
warrior shirk, aware that no enemy must pass their lines lest his family be
attacked.

 
          
 
Flying Hawk had located the Wolf People's
camp, scouted it, and found it full of people. He reported that quarters of elk
and buffalo hung back in the trees. From the report, this was no ordinary camp
they had found, but one preparing for some sort of ceremony.

 
          
 
"There's no sign that they know we're
close," Flying Hawk had said with a predatory grin. "With that much
meat hanging, they won't have hunting parties out. The warriors are lying
around in the sun, gambling with bones and telling stories. The women are busy
baking roots, and the children are playing games. We didn't see any scouts.
They won't know what hit them."

 
          
 
Nevertheless, Brave Man's warriors combed the
trails that ran through the timber. The Broken Stones knew the ways of such
land. Prior to moving into the Fat Beaver country, they'd hunted and warred in
the forested mountains that dotted the territory between
Dangerous
River
and the Fat Beaver. Before that, they'd
hunted the spruce and fir woodlands that stretched across the north. Now they
moved like smoke through the trees.

 
          
 
Brave Man ducked a low fir branch and winced
at the throbbing agony the movement caused him. He could hear Pale Raven's soft
steps behind him as his vision shimmered with sudden tears. If only I could
stop the pain! He forced himself onward.

 
          
 
He had told his warriors, "When you take
the camp, there will be a woman among the captives. Her name is White Ash, and
once she was White Clay. No one must harm her. She has Power. Bring her to me.
Unharmed."

 
          
 
The warriors had grinned knowingly, eyes
gleaming.

 
          
 
"You've Dreamed victory?" Flying
Hawk had asked.

 
          
 
Brave Man had thrown his head back and
laughed, the images of last night's Dream still playing in his head. "I
have Dreamed the greatest of victories. We will break the Wolf People. And
afterward, we will Dance through the day and into the night. We shall make a
fire that shines clear up to the Camp of the Dead, so all may know the Power of
Brave Man and the Broken Stones." And I saw myself with White Ash! She's
there, waiting for me. The Dreams will come true. My Power will mix with hers,
and not even the golden mist will spurn me. Among the Sun People, no name will
be spoken as reverently as Brave Man's!

 
          
 
Brave Man rounded a bend in the trail and came
upon two of his warriors crouched in the deadfall. Beyond them, the trail
opened into a meadow. He stopped and bent to peer through the branches.

 
          
 
"We can't go closer," Yellow Rock
told him. "The Wolf People are camped beyond that patch of timber."

 
          
 
Brave Man nodded. "Our warriors are
spreading out?" He looked up and noted the slant of the sunlight. It would
be dark soon.

 
          
 
"They are." Yellow Rock grinned as
he knotted and shook his fist. "By tomorrow morning that whole camp will
be surrounded. As the sun reddens the dawn, we'll be ready for your war cry.
When we hear you call upon your Power, we'll hit them from all sides. They'll
never know what happened. By the time the sun crests the mountain peaks, a new
way will have come to the Wolf People."

 
          
 
Brave Man tilted his head back, sucking the
rich scent of the fir trees into his nostrils.

           
 
The voices whispered within, Soon. You will
have White Ash soon!

 
          
 
The sun slanted across the peaks—where snow
still resisted the warmer weather—and tipped the timber with yellow and green.
Birds made a melody of the clear morning air.

 
          
 
"Trouble?"

 
          
 
White Ash sat up in the robes at Bad Belly's
worried call. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, wondering how they could
have slept so late. Bad Belly stood at the edge of their camp, peering off into
the brush. The necklace he'd been working on dangled from his hand.

 
          
 
"What is it?"

 
          
 
He turned and she could see his unease.
"Trouble's gone. I woke up just at dawn to finish my necklace, and he
wasn't here. I thought he'd be back by now."

 
          
 
She sighed and yawned. "He's a dog, Bad
Belly. He knows the way back."

 
          
 
"But what if he's lost?"

 
          
 
She stood and stretched, sniffing the clean,
cool air. At this altitude, the morning carried a chill. She could see her
breath.

 
          
 
"Well, where do we go to look for
him?"

 
          
 
"I don't know." He shook his head.
"We can't even find any Wolf People. If he can't find Wolf People, how can
we find the Wolf Bundle? If we can't do that, how can we find Trouble?"

 
          
 
"Trouble will probably find us," she
told him as she rolled up the bedding and bound it tightly. She took several
pieces of jerked meat from the pack Singing Stones had given them; then she
paused and looked around.

 
          
 
They'd camped under a low rise on a ridge top.
On the other side of the brush screening the camp, the limestone that capped
the ridge dropped off in a sheer cliff into a narrow, grass-filled valley.
Stands of trees rose to both sides in a thick tangle of black timber.

 
          
 
Bad Belly fussed around the edges of the camp.
fc
Trouble!' '

 
          
 
"Here, eat some of this. He'll be
back." She handed him a piece of the jerky. "You finished the
necklace. Let me see it."

 
          
 
Bad Belly handed the necklace over before
accepting the hard meat. Worry etched his homely face, and he couldn't help but
glance nervously at the brush, as if expecting Trouble to appear.

 
          
 
She patted his shoulder before inspecting the
necklace. "You look terrible. Are you sure it's just Trouble you're
worried about?"

 
          
 
He failed to hide the misery in his eyes.
"Well, there was one of those visions last night, too. You know, part of a
Power Dream. I heard the Wolf Bundle urging me on. Something's going to happen
soon. Something terrible."

 
          
 
"Wonderful," she muttered to herself
as she fingered the necklace, barely aware of the exquisite workmanship. The
stone teeth Bad Belly had laboriously drilled and knotted into the leather
thong felt curiously cool.

 
          
 
She couldn't look at him. Each day she'd
dragged her feet retarding their progress through the hated Wolf People's land,
urging Bad Belly to take the back trails, getting them lost, anything to slow
their progress. And during it all, her heart had pumped bright fear through
her. It still did. The destruction of the White Clay and Three Bulls' rape hung
like a curtain in her thoughts.

 
          
 
"And that vision last night was about the
future. Of how it might be if we don't save the Wolf Bundle."

 
          
 
"Go on." She made herself glance at
him.

 
          
 
He frowned. "Well, it's hard to explain.
I saw people digging up rocks and carrying them across great distances to a
large room—a room you can't imagine. Big enough to throw a dart across. Giant
fire pits had been dug into the wall. It was hot, miserably hot. And the men
were pushing the rocks into fires raging in the pits." He cocked his head,
baffled.

 
          
 
"And then what?"

           
 
Bad Belly waved the stick of jerky in the air.
"You won't believe this, but the rocks melted and ran out the bottom as
yellow liquid. The men cooled it and beat it with hammers and made it into
things. Some of it was a gleaming yellow stuff that went to Powerful leaders
who sat on top of mountains. It was them, you see? The leaders. They made those
miserable people work in that hot, fiery place."

 
          
 
She shifted. "So what does it mean?"

 
          
 
He stared at her through somber eyes.
"It's what we have to stop, don't you see? We have to Dream a new way for
the Sun People—or they'll never know the One. And if they don't know the One,
they'll change the earth. They won't Dream with it. They'll separate themselves
from it and forget the Dream."