People of the Morning Star (13 page)

“End badly? It’s been how many years? And here I am, still filling your bed with bliss and entertainment. What would your life have been like married to old Stone Throw? I remember that first moment, all right. When I looked at you, you looked right back, practically tingling with excitement. No one, before or since, did the things to your body that I did. Still do.”

“Don’t brag.” Her smile mocked him. “We taught each other in those early explorations. Tricks and talents have to be learned.”

“And it worked out well in the end.” He shook his head, remembering her excitement each time he’d sneak into her bed. And, oh yes, she’d definitely taught him a thing or two. When Stone Throw threw her out in disgrace, Seven Skull Shield had figured that she’d be his. But no. She’d struck out on her own, sensing correctly that a good life could be made in Cahokia trading her body and skills for wealth.

Still, on lonely nights, he often lost himself in dreams of what it would have been like to have lived a normal life with Wooden Doll. Dreams and other fantasies, unfortunately, had little to do with life’s realities.

She placed a slim hand on his raised knee and squeezed. “You know I can read your souls, Skull. I wouldn’t be your woman then, and I won’t be now.”

She was the only person who just called him Skull. “That’s my entire point. We know each other inside and out. You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who was a fit match for my many skills. We’re a team, you and me. We have been ever since that first moment when you peeled my breechcloth off my hips and gasped in delight. I think I’m the only man you ever loved.”

She studied him through half-lidded eyes. “I don’t dare love you, Skull. No woman with the sense Power gave a rock would. And the one thing I have is an abundance of sense.”

“Would it be so bad? Compared to most of the chunkey players, petty chiefs, and Traders who exchange little trinkets for your services, I
know
you actually enjoy spending time with me. It must be nice not to playact when you’re with a man.”

“Those men come and go.” She leaned forward to slide a long finger from his breastbone down to his navel. “You, Skull? You can’t go on forever. Somewhere along the way, you’re really going to offend Power. You’re going to get crossways with some Cahokian lord. And yes, you’ve developed an eye for finding these young and foolish wives. But the day is coming when you’re going to enrage the wrong husband. Steal the wrong statue or mask.”

Wooden Doll leaned forward, her beautiful face a handsbreadth from his as she stared into his souls. He thought he could spend the rest of his life looking at that face.

In a precise and sad voice, she said, “When they finally hang you in a square, I will not go to see you, Skull. I couldn’t stand it.”

The intensity of her words, the certainty in her eyes, sent a shiver through him. “They haven’t caught me yet.”

A fleeting and wistful smile crossed her lips. “Yet.”

She pushed back, flipping her hair over a smooth brown shoulder. “So, you’ve given me a statuette. Counting this evening, I’ll give you another five nights.”

“I’m Trading the others to Black Swallow for considerably more than five nights. That statue of yours? In a place like Split Sky City? You could buy an entire village.”

“We’re not in Split Sky City, or Pacaha, or Yellow Mounds. Six nights.” She reached out, grabbing him by the shaft. An excitement built behind her smoky dark eyes. Her supple fingers, having long discovered his secrets, began to work their magic.

“Ten,” he said through a gasp.

“We’ve all night to bargain,” Wooden Doll told him as she pushed his knee to the side.

“You’re not going to get the best of me,” he insisted.

“You only think you’re smart, Skull. I’ll give you seven nights. But you’re on your own during the day.”

“I…” He’d forgotten his counteroffer.

Eight

“
Remember!
” the sibilant voice ordered from the echoes of Night Shadow Star’s fragmenting dreams. Through the brightening haze, she realized she was breathing, drawing warm air into her lungs. The comforting darkness seemed to recede.

Got to remember … Look him in the eyes …

“Ah, there you are.” The voice sounded fragile, old.

She blinked, finding her vision cloudy and filmed. A gentle hand stroked first her left cheek, then her right. As she gasped, a warm damp cloth carefully sponged her eyes.

She managed to raise an arm and brush it away, then blinked to clear her vision. Overhead was a soot-thick roof of poles supporting a lattice of willow stems. Faint yellow light from a fire flickered, and she could smell the incense of boiled sagebrush.

Turning her head, she fixed her gaze on the old man smiling toothlessly at her. The lines in his face were deep, obscuring age-faded tattoos. His white hair had been pulled up in a severe bun to which a Spirit Bundle box had been tied, its copper inlays green with corrosion. The old man’s nose looked more like a mushroom, but his sightless and grayed eyes seemed to see into her very soul.

“Rides-the-Lightning?” she croaked.

“You gave me a scare, Night Shadow Star. It is rare when one survives such an intimate dance with Sister Datura. She led me a merry chase in the search for your souls.” His wrinkled expression pinched with worry. “That she took you so far into the Underworld is even more unsettling.”

“I…” She swallowed dryly, fragments of memory now baffling and confusing. “Roots. There were roots. I was underwater, but didn’t drown.”

“Souls don’t breathe like bodies do,” he answered. “When I found you, you were in the presence of many Tie Snakes.”

She nodded, remembering images of rainbow-skinned serpents, the spots on their sides so dark they might have been emptiness.

He reached to the side, lifting a large, yellow-striped water snake. The creature’s black forked tongue flickered in her direction. “He led me to you.”

She took a deep breath, her stomach tickling at the bottom of her throat. Knotting a clenched fist against her lips, she fought down the nausea. Then the room tried to spin, her stomach rising in that sick lurch of weightlessness.

Her entire body bucked as her stomach pumped painfully. Dry heave after dry heave left her breathless and panting. Her stomach ached as if she’d been buffalo kicked.

“What else did you see down there?” he asked mildly as he wiped her lips with the damp cloth.

“Piasa,” she whispered, remembering the large yellow eyes with their midnight pupils. In that instant, she stiffened, memory and terror returning with a vengeance. “He bit…” She slapped hands to her head, frantically feeling her smooth cheeks and delicate ears. To her relief, the bone beneath was firm, whole, and unbroken.

She whispered in horror, “I remember his mouth opening … The teeth, so white and sharp, closing around my…”

The old man’s sightless eyes widened, the toothless mouth opening in amazement to reveal pink gums and the rounded mound of his tongue.

“Bit you where?”

“Grabbed my … my head. C-Crushed my skull. I felt it.” She whimpered against the terror. “
I felt my skull crack!”

“So I see,” he barely whispered, blind eyes narrowing.

Night Shadow Star shivered and forced herself to sit up. The water snake coiled itself around the old man’s age-callused hands.

Think! It’s not real. You’re here … Somewhere. Alive!

But it
had
been real. The memories, the liquid fear in her veins, were all too fresh. She wanted to weep from the sheer relief of being alive.

Alive where?

She forced herself to look around and found herself on the mat floor beside the great fire. Her naked body was cushioned by a thick buffalo-wool blanket; the Four Winds Clan design depicted the curling spirals of the winds at each corner. The familiar interior of the Earth Moiety’s great temple surrounded her with its intricately sculpted benches; the stunning relief-carved image of Morning Star dominated the back wall.

An arm’s length away, the eternal fire burned brightly as it snapped flames and sparks toward the high roof.

Despite its radiant heat, a shiver ran through her as she noted the pots and carved boxes full of ritual items, bunches of dried medicine herbs hanging from twine, a line of masks representing Spirit Wolf, Bear, Falcon, Ivory-billed Woodpecker, Antlered Deer, and Buffalo. Hollow black eyes fixed on her as the painted masks glared down from the surrounding walls.

“What are you?” Rides-the-Lightning asked cautiously. “Who are you?”

“What?” She stared at him in confusion.

“
Who
are you?”

“I am Night Shadow Star!” she barked back, half frightened, and more than a little irritated at his sudden reserve.

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She crossed her arms defensively over her bare breasts and wondered where her clothes were. Struggling, she tried to remember. She’d been in her palace, at the altar in the rear. She’d been looking into the well pot, seeking Makes Three, desperate for his company.

The old man’s sightless eyes seemed to peer into her very body, and her souls squirmed. His voice wavered as he said, “Because now that my vision clears, I don’t see Night Shadow Star inside you.”

She blinked, feeling woozy. “I am the
tonka’tzi
’s eldest daughter. Who else would I be?”

“Ah. That is the question, isn’t it? Part of you is her, yes. But the rest…?” His expression twisted with disbelief. “How can this be?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re talking like a fool.”

He pulled back, his age-callused hands carefully lowering the water snake to a burnished brown jar incised with the interlocked design of Tie Snakes. The creature glided through his fingers and into the pot’s dark recesses.

“The Piasa, you claim? Let us see.” Rides-the-Lightning turned his head toward one of the assistant priests who lingered in the background. The old man said something in a language she couldn’t understand: the holy speech of the priests.

The assistant stepped to one of the sleeping benches and slid out an intricately carved box. He opened the lid and muttered a prayer before reaching inside and withdrawing what looked like a cape fashioned from cougar hide. As he lifted it out a long, tanned, rattlesnake skin dropped down from the back to sway suggestively. Spread eagle wings had been affixed to the pelt’s shoulders.

She kept shooting worried looks at the thing as she rubbed her angular shins. Her normally smooth skin felt oddly cold, her stomach still on the verge of revolt.

“You say Piasa grabbed you by the head and crushed your skull?” Rides-the-Lightning asked absently as the assistant approached with the cape. “Describe him.”

“He looked like Piasa,” she snapped. “Cougar head, pink nose, bristly whiskers. Three-fork design around yellow eyes with empty black pupils. And then all I saw was the mouth. Big white teeth! Curling pink tongue.” She frowned. “And down in his throat…”

“Yes?” he asked at her puzzled tone.

“A darkness like nothing I can…” Another shiver left her trembling. “His teeth punched through my head … the bone cracking and breaking. Pus and blood, I still
feel
it!” In desperation she pressed her hands against the sides of her head. “Why am I still alive, Elder?”

“I cannot tell you why, Lady Night Shadow Star. But let my assistant place the cloak upon your shoulders.”

She gave the young man a wary glance as he approached. Her throat suddenly dry, she took a deep breath. As he finished unfolding the garment, she gasped as the thing’s hood—made from a cougar’s head—came into view.

Terror, cold as ice, settled in her bones. In her souls something whispered,
Yes!
She almost cried out as the man laid the cape over her shoulders, but at its touch a warm wave of energy tingled through bones, muscles, and nerves. Images of dark caverns, fish, turtles, and great serpents spun through her. She heard pitiful cries, as if they were born of the very air around her.

A presence stirred within her as the assistant fitted the hood over her head. It began to swell, flexing muscles, spreading great wings, as a tail that was hers—and at the same time wasn’t—lashed behind her. The impulse to clench her hands caused her to glance down. Impossibly she saw yellow eagle’s feet with polished talons curling in her vision, only to have the image fade back into her straining fingers as they curled.

Release the Power,
a hollow voice echoed within her.
Now you are mine!

“I am Night Shadow Star,” she insisted doggedly.

The swelling presence laughed hollowly.

“Lady?” Rides-the-Lightning leaned close; His face intruded among the spinning bits of fantastic images. “Can you hear me?”

She gasped for air, blinking away fragments of incredible visions of wavering green moss, glinting fish, and rainbow-colored snakes as they swam past. Concentrating, she focused on Rides-the-Lightning, forcing his age-ravaged face to solidify.

A low whimper was torn from her throat as the cape was removed; she slumped, feeling exhausted. The booming laughter that battered her souls receded to a faint echo. Her hands were now her own, her body oddly empty and looted after the sensation of wings. The Power had drained away, a hollow sensation in its wake, as though all that remained of her was a gutted husk.