People of the Fire (21 page)

 
          
 
Little Dancer lowered himself to the ground,
one hand grasping a
lodgepole
. All his strength gone,
he simply stared at the wreckage of his lodge. He barely realized when Two
Smokes settled next to him, the dart spinning in his fingers.

 
          
 
"After all these years, I wonder how he
found me here. Even the People know he's been roaming the country. The Red Hand
exiled him after I left with Clear Water and the Wolf Bundle."

 
          
 
"It's because of Heavy Beaver. He threw
the Wolf Bundle into the dark that night. I felt it. The Power changed. The
world's falling apart. Everything shifted. Maybe the Wolf Bundle wanted to go
back where people would care for it."

 
          
 
"I cared for it. I loved it, kept
it—"

 
          
 
"Heavy Beaver abused it. It couldn't
trust you." As soon as he said it, he regretted the words. He looked up
hesitantly to see tears creeping down Two Smokes' face. In sympathy, he reached
a thin arm around the
berdache's
waist and hugged him
tight. "It's not your fault, Two Smokes. It's not."

 
          
 
So faint he could barely hear, Two Smokes
whispered, "Yes, it is. All my fault. From the very beginning."

 
          
 
The whisper of moccasins on dirt behind him
made Little Dancer turn.

 
          
 
His mother stood there, hair out of place and
blowing in straggles in the afternoon breeze. Her hollow eyes barely registered
the mess. Heart pounding, he stared up at her. The expression on her face
belonged to a stranger. She looked through him, hands clenching and releasing
spasmodically. The corners of her lips quivered, as if she might speak. Then
she turned, ducking listlessly into the lodge. Soundlessly she stamped out the
smoldering coals, tears like silver in her eyes.

 
          
 
"Mother?" he whispered, fearing the
wild look, afraid to call after her. He looked out past the milling People who
stood over Two Elks' body.

 
          
 
Two sticks remained.

 
          
 
* * *

           
 
What a stroke of luck! The People milled in
confusion and disbelief as they hovered around Two Elks' body. Heavy Beaver
stepped out of his lodge, dressed in his finest.

 
          
 
"My people! I've heard from the Spirits.
Even as we speak, the world is turning, waiting. What has been wrought this
day? Dancing Doe has seen the error of her ways. The
Anit'ah
have reclaimed their evil that lay like a festering sore to ooze its pus into
our society!"

 
          
 
He grinned at the horrified look on Two
Smokes' face where he stared up. Your day is coming, enemy freak! After Sage
Root, I'll drive your polluting presence from the People.

 
          
 
“This is our last warning!'' Heavy Beaver
thundered. “Two Elks, so wise, so warm, has paid with his life! The final
choice is upon us. We must purify ourselves of the ancient evils! We must make
a new way for ourselves, or the Spirit World will turn its back on us for good.
The evil ones know themselves. Within days, the Power I call on will banish
them from our midst!"

 
          
 
"Hear our Spirit Dreamer!" Throws
Rocks shouted, lifting his fist to wave it while he danced. "Heavy Beaver
brings us a new way! With his Power, the buffalo will return!"

 
          
 
Fire At Night whooped and jumped, prancing on
light feet as he yipped his zeal.

 
          
 
"The rest of you," Heavy Beaver
ordered, seeing Choke-cherry start to open her mouth. "Two Elks is dead!
Do none of you mourn the loss of this great man? Do you all just stand here?
Go! Go out and find sage to clean his body! Bring your best to honor him."

 
          
 
"And the
Anit'ah
?"
Sleeping Fir asked, staring around nervously. "Are there more?"

 
          
 
"Only one came to reclaim the cursed
object." Heavy Beaver narrowed an eye at Two Smokes and the soiled child
who clung to his side. Hatred filled the boy's eyes. Well, that could be beaten
out of him. He was still young enough to train in the proper ways.

 
          
 
"What of Dancing Doe?" Chokecherry
called as the people began to split up, walking somberly to their
lodgl
a soft mumble.

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver closed his eyes, adopting a
pained expression. "I would have you, Chokecherry—and Sage Root to her.
Take her up on the ridge behind the village. Surely with the help of the
berdache
and the boy, the two of you can get her up
there."

 
          
 
"And you'll Sing for her?"

 
          
 
"I think, sometimes, you don't believe I
have Power. Why do you want me to Sing for her?"

 
          
 
Chokecherry didn't hesitate. “I’m thinking of
her family. Most are with White Foot's band. They'd want someone to Sing for
her."

 
          
 
He nodded. "I'll Sing." And you'll
see my Power within days, old woman! "And maybe it will ease the pollution
she brought to the People."

 
          
 
Chokecherry's eyes hardened. "You know,
boy, I can't help but wonder where the real pollution lies."

 
          
 
He stiffened, staring angrily into the old
woman's eyes. "Do you want me to Sing for her, or not? Your words make it
very difficult."

 
          
 
Chokecherry bit off her retort and walked over
to Sage Root's lodge, muttering under her breath. Heavy Beaver stood, arms
crossed, seeing the startled look on Sage Root's face. Frantic eyes turned in
his direction, reflecting a loathing for what he'd asked her to do.
Chokecherry's arms waved in appeal and Sage Root finally nodded, getting to her
feet.

 
          
 
Heavy Beaver watched as they proceeded behind
the birthing lodge. Then, looking surreptitiously about, he slipped silently
into Sage Root's lodge. From his pouch, he took dried leaves, crumbling them
between his fingers and dropping them into the stew in her horn bowl.

 
          
 
Casting a quick glance about, Heavy Beaver
slipped out and returned to his lodge. The
datura
would do what threats couldn't. Power worked many ways—especially in the
victim's mind.

 
          
 
Chokecherry lowered herself next to Makes Fun
where she painted white clay on a staked antelope hide. Above, on the edge of
the terrace, Heavy Beaver chanted, shaking a rattle, as he Danced about Dancing
Doe's body. At least the story would get back to Dancing Doe's relations that
someone had cared. Chokecherry rubbed at the bloodstains where Dancing Doe's
body had leaked on the hem of her dress.

 
          
 
"Nice painting. That's for Two
Elks?"

           
 
Makes Fun nodded, stirring the pigment in the
horn bowl. “His children all moved away with Two Stones' band. Who else would
do it? A man as good and wise as he should rise to the
Starweb
looking his best. We can't have him meet the Wise One Above looking like a
starving coyote."

 
          
 
"No. I have a beaded necklace. I'll get
it for him."

 
          
 
"How's Sage Root?"

 
          
 
"Not well."

 
          
 
Makes Fun sighed and rubbed a forearm across
her sweaty forehead. "You think it's serious?"

 
          
 
"Of course it's serious. Heavy Beaver's
killing her. He's doing it by preying on her one weakness. She doesn't know
anything about Power. She doesn't know if he's right or wrong. Once he's got
her questioning herself, he's won half the battle.

 
          
 
"Worse, he's hung raven feathers off the
tips of her lodge-poles. Sage Root saw them, and threw up. She tore them down,
of course, but you should have seen her shaking. Her lodge was the only one
messed up by the
Anit'ah
. It's all piling up in her
mind."

 
          
 
Makes Fun puffed a heavy exhalation and rocked
back on her haunches. "He's been Singing in there all day. My nerves are
stretched to the point where I dragged my hides out here so I couldn't hear.
What a day. Dancing Doe kills herself. An
Anit'ah
kills Two Elks and steals the
berdache's
sacred
bundle. And through it all, Heavy Beaver keeps killing Sage Root."
Empty-eyed, she stared at the far buttes, where they shimmered in the sun's
mirage. "And I thought my sister was trouble."

 
          
 
"Everyone's nervous. That doesn't help,
either." Choke-cherry settled herself, drawing her ancient knees up to her
chest. "We've got to do something. If we don't, Heavy Beaver is going to
destroy us."

 
          
 
"Us? I thought he was after Sage Root.
She turned him down, you know. Refused to bed him. He's—"

 
          
 
"Bah! That's only the excuse. Like
sneaking into a buffalo herd under a hide, it's misdirection. True, he's been
grousing about that for years. You can see it festering in his . time he looks
at her. You know, I even caught him one time.

           
 
He'd sneaked out after Hungry Bull and her,
watching while they coupled outside of camp."

 
          
 
"No!" Makes Fun clapped a hand to
her mouth to hide astonishment. "That's . . . that's ..."

 
          
 
"Rude? An understatement. But then,
that's the sort of man he is. He killed Dancing Doe as surely as if he'd thrown
the dart himself. And destroying Sage Root is another step. You want to live in
a band he controls? Hmm? What about your children? How about your son, Mouse
Runner? You want him growing up hearing Heavy Beaver's talk about how women are
polluting the earth? You want your daughter growing up to marry a man who'd
been raised to think that?"

 
          
 
Makes Fun braced hands on her knees, staring
off across the valley of the
Moon
River
. After a long moment, she asked, "What
can we do to stop it? Black Crow's out hunting with Hungry Bull and Three Toes.
I'm not sure what I can do."

 
          
 
"Back me up."

 
          
 
Makes Fun cocked her head, eyes worried.
"Back you up? And if he Curses you, Chokecherry? You're my aunt. I
don't—"

 
          
 
"Blood and dung! Listen to you. You're
half knuckled under already! Think, girl! Heavy Beaver's just a thieving raven.
He's found a bunch of mice head-sick from alkali water. Now he's hopping
around, cawing and squawking to keep them confused. He's got his first mouse killed
and eaten. The second is frightened and running in circles. Soon as Sage Root
keels over, he'll get another one. And when it's all finished, the ways of the
People will be gone forever. That's right. He's trying to remake the People to
fit his image of what they ought to be. And me, I'm not going to play mouse for
him! I'm going to remind him that he's nothing more than a scavenging
raven."

 
          
 
"Careful, Aunt." Makes Fun looked
around. "If he hears you—"