People of the Morning Star (36 page)

She could sense the disquiet in Piasa’s presence, as if the Spirit Beast’s essence were unsure. From the corner of her eye, she kept catching glimpses of the Water Panther as he stalked through the storm-black night.

At the sound of Fire Cat’s curse and her words, a dog began barking inside the house they were skirting. The owner would be irritated enough when he found their footprints in his newly planted garden the next morning.

Fire Cat growled to himself, gestured her forward, and hurried beyond the household. Lightning flashed to light their way as they stepped onto the broad east-west Avenue of the Sun that transected Cahokia. He was panting and wet to the knees, but so was she. After crossing the great plaza, their flight had become a terrifying comedy of indecision, backtracks, and stumbles—especially when they couldn’t find their way out of the marshy land that lay just beyond the society houses and temples immediately to the east.

Someone in the house behind them shouted “Quiet!” followed by a thump and a canine yelp.

“Going back isn’t smart.” Fire Cat was but another shadow in the darkness.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re still alive.”

“And by now, Red Wing, half of Cahokia is out searching for us. My people need me.”

He turned ploddingly down the avenue, still heading east. “Lady, here’s my call: it’s pitch-black back there. Oh, sure, there’s lightning and a couple of torches flickering, but how good are they going to be in the wind and rain?”

“They’ll have my palace surrounded.”

“Your people? Or theirs?” He paused. “If Field Green had been a half step to the left, that first arrow would have taken you right through the upper chest. Either the archer was accursedly lucky, or he knew just where you’d be, darkness or no.”

“I’m worried to death about her.”

“Lady, guilt is a weapon they can, and will, use to kill you. Organizing an attack like this? At least three, probably four bowmen, firing from two sides of your mound? These people are deadly serious, and equally competent. If it were me, I’d have my shooters waiting around, just out of sight in the darkness. They know you’re going to be back sooner or later.”

“By now the alert has been sounded. My palace is probably surrounded by an entire squadron.”

“A squadron in darkness,” he reminded her simply. “A bunch of warriors called in from here and there. Mostly strangers. And a couple of assassin archers added to mix in with theirs. To be ready for your return. And as soon as one of the commanders lifts a torch to identify you …
thwip!
” He mimed an arrow being released.

“How do you know all this?”

“Because if I were trying to kill you, that’s how I’d do it.”

That left her with an empty feeling in her breast.

“Do you think these are the same people who tried to kill the Morning Star, slashed my father’s throat, and tried to kill my aunt?”

“Probably. And, Lady, I wouldn’t take any comfort in the fact that they’re using different tactics. If so much as a patch of stars had been out, they’d have had enough light to have killed us all.”

Lightning flashed, catching him in the act of rubbing his neck, a most worried gesture.

“If you hadn’t grabbed me back there, I’d be dead now, wouldn’t I?”

“Most likely.”

Thunder rumbled across the city.

She plodded along, feeling the Piasa’s presence where it stalked the darkness beside her. The terrible beast seemed to be smiling.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what? Attack you? I assume the culprit is some poor and desperate fool like I’d be but for that accursed oath. Someone who’s sworn to pay you and your kind back for ruining his life, destroying his clan, murdering his relatives.”

“No,” she told him coldly. “Why did you save me?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question over and over.”

“Any answers, Red Wing?”

“I can only conclude that you’re alive because my uncle once took time to impress something on a very young boy.”

“What was that?”

“I owe you my loyalty and obedience, Lady. Not the intricacies of my souls.”

She smiled wryly. “If the attackers are fleeing to the east, you know they’re going to come right down this road.”

“Are we past that big marsh?”

“Pretty much.” She waved around. “From here to the bluffs the country is dry. But pick any other direction and you’re going to end up in marsh or an old oxbow lake if you go far enough. And as dark as it is, we’ll get turned around among the houses.”

Patters of rain streaked down from the sky.

“Looks like we’ll get wet one way or another.” He was looking around when lightning illuminated the rising bulk of a building atop a mound. “What’s that?”

“Fish Clan charnel house. Matron Red Temple’s lineage processes their dead here.”

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand. “It’s someplace no assassins are going to check. The combination of being safe and dry outweighs the stench of decomposing corpses.”

“And you won’t fall into anyone’s latrine in the darkness.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“I did let you walk into the marsh to get the stink off.”

He couldn’t see her carnivorous smile as she savored the memory. But his feet really had stunk. It wasn’t her fault that they’d gotten turned around and floundered this way and that trying to find their way back to dry land. In the end a strong gust carrying the scent of other latrines and smoke had given them the direction.

As they climbed the stairway to the top of the Fish Clan mound, he hesitated. They were high enough to clear the roof lines of the buildings to the east. “What’s that?” He pointed to a flickering yellow light on the bluff top.

“Blue Heron’s witches,” she replied wearily. “They’ll be burning for another three days.”

She paused as he passed the guardian posts, nodded respectfully, and opened the door. She followed him into the stygian interior. The cloying odor of rotting human beings thickened in the back of her nose. Down inside her gut, she felt the tendrils of Piasa’s presence stir at the proximity of the dead. Fish Clan had Spiritual ties to the Underworld. Perhaps the Spirit Beast felt the body-souls, perhaps it even called to them. She grunted, placing a hand to her stomach.

“You all right?” Fire Cat asked.

“Piasa is stirring.”

“Of course.” He sounded bored. “Your brother’s a god and you’ve got a Spirit panther in your belly.”

“A fact for which you should be glad.”

“Oh, really?”

“It was at Piasa’s insistence that I had to forego the pleasure of holding a torch between your legs for as long as it took to cook your penis and testicles into charcoal. I wanted to hear you scream as I burned them from your body.” A pause. “Instead he told me to cut you down.”

“Charming.”

The sound of heavy rain beating on the roof preceded the musical patter of runoff as it sluiced from the thatch. Thunder banged just overhead.

She heard him shuffling around before he said, “Here’s a bench. We might as well sit. There’s no sense for us to be stumbling about in here and bothering the dead more than we have to.”

She felt the plank-top and seated herself, testing it. It seemed solid enough. Then she took a weary breath, a spear of grief lancing her heart. “Did you happen to see how badly Field Green was wounded?”

“No. But from the sound, it was a chest shot.”

“You can tell?”

“Having heard enough arrows strike home? Yes. Anything going into the lungs makes a hollow thump. Muscle gives off a meaty slap, and striking bone makes a snapping sound.”

“The reality is just sinking in, Red Wing.”

“And that is?”

“Uncertainty is the worst part, isn’t it?”

She could feel his gaze through the darkness. “They want you terrified, Lady.”

“From here on I’ll never know, will I? The only warning I’ll get is the whistle of an arrow before it spears my heart. I’ll be afraid to sleep knowing he could be creeping over my bed. I won’t feel anything before the sting of the knife. Then I’ll be choking on my blood, blowing it out in a hot red spray from my severed windpipe.”

“You must have some clue about who’s doing this?”

She rubbed her face as hard rain hammered down onto the roof. Thunder banged and boomed, rolling away in the storm. The smell of the dead seemed more acute in the damp air.

“When you’re Four Winds Clan and as influential as we are? The list of potential enemies is endless.” She paused. “Why don’t they want us to know? Why not give us at least a clue?”

“Because it adds to the terror. If he succeeds you’ll die without even knowing who did this to you.” He paused, then muttered to himself. “Oh, I see…”

“See what?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Just putting it into perspective is all. I have no love for the Four Winds Clan myself. I’d love nothing better than to be in the position to destroy you all. Like I said at the
tonka’tzi
’s that night. There would be a big red wing on that wall so you knew I was taking my revenge. I’d want you feeling helpless in the face of Red Wing retribution. You know, so you’d have time to regret your destruction of my clan.”

“I should have driven my knife into your heart that night.”

She felt, rather than saw his answering shrug.

“I wish you had. I’d have been free of my oath, and my souls would have gleefully watched Piasa suck yours down into whatever finality the Water Panther inflicts on those he owns. Because, Lady, but for me, they’d have killed you tonight. And the terror would have grown. That’s what I was getting at. This isn’t just vengeance. More than wanting you and your family dead, they want you terrified.”

She shivered in the deadly darkness.

Thirty

Crouched against the wall on Blue Heron’s veranda, Seven Skull Shield watched morning begin to brighten the stormy skies. The pink-gray light was finally bringing an end to what had been a sleepless night. Through it all, a constant string of messengers had been coming and going as communications were carried back and forth from the Morning Star, Matron Wind, and Sun Wing.

After the meeting Seven Skull Shield had been lost in thought. It wasn’t just every day that a thief and rascal like Seven Skull Shield participated in a conversation with the Morning Star. Let alone addressed him in his palace!

In a sort of daze, he had followed Blue Heron down the long stairs from the Morning Star’s palace. He’d paced beside her litter as they made their way west through the dark toward the Clan Keeper’s palace. Only to stop short as screams and chaos had erupted at the foot of Night Shadow Star’s palace stairs.

Thinking about it afterward, it had been dumb to just rush into the line of fire where, but moments before, Field Green, the guards, and porters had been shot full of arrows. The realization had slowly sunken in that he and Blue Heron had made excellent targets in the flickering light of wind-batted torches brought down from Night Shadow Star’s palace. Fortunately, enough of the guardian warriors had charged off into the surroundings to rout the attackers. So complete had the confusion been that two of Night Shadow Star’s guards had spent a couple tens of heartbeats shooting at each other. Only sheepishly did they discover the mistake as they cursed each other vehemently—and recognized each other’s voices.

Seven Skull Shield actually admired the way Blue Heron had taken control, ordered the wounded and dying to be carried up to the palace, and set about alerting not only the Morning Star and his guard, but Matron Wind. Runners had been sent to warn the other Houses; Healers had been summoned to attend to the wounded and dying.

Another runner had been dispatched to the Four Winds Men’s House, and an alarm had been raised that called out the local squadron by means of a thumping drum. By the time the warriors had been assembled and trotted to Night Shadow Star’s the attackers were long gone.

All that, and in a pouring rain to boot! Seven Skull Shield arched an eyebrow in tribute to the Clan Keeper as dawn burned pink behind thin patches in the somber gray overcast. Twisted tufts of cloud continued to scud across the sky to the east.

But as impressive as Blue Heron’s organization had been—and despite the crisscrossing messengers and squads of warriors who’d been splashing around in the lightning-riven night—several things remained problematic: Two porters, three guards, and Field Green were dead; two other porters were dying, and two were seriously wounded; no one had any idea of who the attackers were; and most terrifying, Night Shadow Star and the Red Wing were nowhere to be found—alive or dead.

Seven Skull Shield hunched and pulled his cape more tightly around his shoulders. He’d braced his back on the plaster wall, knees pulled up to support his elbows. When he sniffed the damp, smoke-filled air, the scent of wet earth, trodden grass, and the sullen taint of too much humanity filled his nostrils. The comings and goings of warriors had tracked a slick coating of mud up the stairs, past the guardian posts, and onto the matting as though some huge slug had left its glistening trail.

“Tell the Morning Star that we can only assume they have been taken,” Blue Heron was saying to the latest messenger, one of Dead Bird’s slaves. “It is light now, and we have enough warriors scouring every nook and cranny around the palaces, temples, and shrines, that someone would have found the bodies.”