People of the Earth (29 page)

 
          
 
Bad Belly pinned the big bird with a foot and
grabbed its throat, then
wnirled
it around to snap
the neck. He retrieved the rock and stepped around the sage. Disturbed by the
scuffle, two more grouse bobbed their heads as they walked this way and that
through the thick brush, aware that something had gone wrong. Like all grouse,
they were too stupid to fly at the sight of a human.

 
          
 
Bad Belly waited patiently. One of the
gray-speckled birds stepped behind a sagebrush. The flung stone thumped sickeningly
into the visible bird. The fowl lay broken and stunned as it uttered clicking
sounds.

 
          
 
Bad Belly took a step, then another, as the
wounded bird fluttered away on one wing and a broken leg. The third strutted
calmly in the sage, oblivious to the plight of its fellow.

 
          
 
Bad Belly retrieved his stone, catching up the
fluttering victim and breaking its neck. Cautiously he stalked the third.
Within minutes his deadly stone had claimed the last grouse.

 
          
 
He waved, and Left Hand walked down the ridge,
the dogs following.

 
          
 
"It's food," Bad Belly greeted.
"Tonight we eat well."

 
          
 
Left Hand cocked his head. 'Three birds? One
for us . . . and two for all these dogs? That's eating well?"

 
          
 
"You never know what we'll find for the
rest of the day." Bad Belly gestured toward the foothills. "
Badwater
Camp lies up there along the creek somewhere. We
might make it by
midday
tomorrow. They'll feed us and the dogs, too. Three birds will keep us
going."

 
          
 
Left Hand nodded as he studied the mountains
and the way their path would lead. "If not, we'll take a day and see if we
can't lure an antelope into an ambush. I just haven't seen the right place to
do it yet."

 
          
 
Bad Belly gave his friend a suspicious
inspection. "This is
Badwater
territory. Bone
Ring won't care about a couple of grouse, but we'd better get her permission
before we go hunting anything like a—"

 
          
 
"And I'm a Trader." Left Hand raised
his staff and jabbed a thumb at his chest. "You Earth People and your
territory don't mean anything to a Trader."

 
          
 
"Bone Ring decides things for
Badwater
. I met her once. She's a tough woman."

 
          
 
Left Hand chuckled. "Tell me honestly,
would Larkspur have thrown a fit if she found a Trader eating an antelope he'd
killed on her land? No, not even Larkspur, tough and mean as she is, would
squawk about a Trader filling his belly or feeding his dogs. Besides, they know
me at
Badwater
. Bone Ring gets along with the Wolf
People. A few years back she sent us a couple of packs of
ricegrass
seed when things were a little bleak."

 
          
 
Bed Belly looked over his shoulder at the
far-western mountains. A gray haze had covered the peaks. "Looks like a
storm coming. We might want to hole up at
Badwater
.
It would be nice to have a warm lodge to sleep in if that turns out to be as
bad as it looks."

 
          
 
"Bone Ring will put us up. She'll
probably have half of what's in my packs if we stop there—but we'll have a warm
lodge and full bellies."

 
          
 
Bad Belly grunted. "
Trading's
something I'd never do well. If people wanted to Trade, I'd end up giving them
everything."

 
          
 
Left Hand took up the march, headed for the
long ridge that separated the
Badwater
from the rest
of the basin. "Different Traders do things differently. It depends on your
Power." He shot a glance at Bad Belly. "But then, a man who Dreams
thunder out of night sky . . . well, you tell me."

 
          
 
Bad Belly's stomach knotted. "I don't
know what to think. I've never had a Dream like that."

 
          
 
Left Hand took a deep breath and said gently,
"Maybe you weren't worthy before."

 
          
 
"Worthy?"

 
          
 
"Power has its ways. And you haven't told
me everything about Warm Fire's death and what he made you promise. Not that
I've asked, mind you. Power isn't something to be talked about lightly. A
fellow like me knows enough about it to be cautious. Maybe Warm Fire's death
was supposed to be a sign to you. Like that wolf you talk about."

 
          
 
Bad Belly lowered his eyes. "I don't know
about signs and things. I'm just me."

 
          
 
A reverent note crept into Left Hand's voice.
"You never know about Power. It exists everywhere—all around us. But I
remember when I was a boy, listening to a Dreamer. He said that Power is in
this world and it isn't."

 
          
 
"How can it be in this world and not be
at the same time?"

 
          
 
"Look around you, Bad Belly. Power is
everywhere, but can you see it? Touch it? No. It's here and it isn't. That's
why you have to seek it. Among my people, a person must prepare himself and
climb to a high place. You see, only when you've cleansed your body and soul
does Power make itself known. That's why it comes in Dreams. You have to meet
Power in a different world from this one. In Dreams . . . when the soul is
free."

           
 
Bad Belly screwed up his mouth. "But why
did it come to me last night? How come it never came before? I've had lots of
dreams. Everybody does."

 
          
 
"Power Dreams?"

 
          
 
"No, this is the first."

 
          
 
"That's the point."

 
          
 
Bad Belly shot him a skeptical glance.

 
          
 
"Look"—Left Hand gestured, shaking
the Trader's staff— "maybe you weren't worthy of being noticed until you
left Larkspur's. Maybe your leaving was a test. You know, whatever you promised
Warm Fire had to be carried out. Power doesn't just give itself away. You have
to be worthy."

 
          
 
Bad Belly hung his head, remembering his
inability to face Larkspur when Warm Fire lay dying. He'd hated himself at that
moment, hated himself ever since for not staying with Warm Fire—no matter the
consequences. Leaving had brought him freedom from that guilt. He looked
around, feeling the free wind on his shoulder.

 
          
 
"Grandmother always knew how to bend me
around. She's a master at that." He sighed. "I grew up terrified of
her. A person was better off to cross a silver bear than to make Larkspur mad.
She'd get back at you, and when she did, everyone suffered for what you'd
done."

 
          
 
"But you left."

 
          
 
Bad Belly nodded. "Yes. I left. She
ordered me away when Warm Fire was dying. I ... I couldn't . . . Well, it's
over now."

 
          
 
"And Power is interested in you. You
passed the first test."

 
          
 
"The way you say that, I'm not sure I
want to pass any more."

 
          
 
A smoky look veiled Left Hand's eyes.
"The first is always the easiest. Did this curious Spirit in your Dream
say anything else? Ask anything of you?"

 
          
 
"It said I should prepare myself . . .
and seek." He scowled and kicked at the ground. "And I saw things.
Visions of people doing things I couldn't understand. Something
terrible's
coming. A change in the Spiral, if you know what
that means. It has something to do with the Sun People's Power—and what they'll
do to Dreaming. Maybe change the entire world."

 
          
 
"You know, Bad Belly, you frighten
me."

 
          
 
"Frighten you?"

 
          
 
Left Hand made a face that puckered the lines
around his mouth. "The ways of Power leave any sane man nervous. Warm Fire
said he'd Dreamed that I was coming. Power told him that. I'd been having
Dreams of my own. Nothing I could understand, just fragments of visions . . .
and a feeling that I had to hurry. Power threw us together first thing. Maybe
it picked me because I have a lot of respect for Power. I know enough about how
the Spirit World works to know that I'm not the right one for you to talk
to."

 
          
 
Bad Belly's stomach soured even more.
"Well then, if you're not, who is? In the Dream, Wolf Dreamer told
me—"

 
          
 
"Wolf Dreamer?" Left Hand looked
over his shoulder to stare at the gray mat of clouds that now obscured the far
mountains.

 
          
 
"Well, that's what he said. Something
about the Wolf Dream . . . and Fire Dancer . . . and he turned into a wolf . .
. and into a flaming bird and—"

 
          
 
'We're not stopping at
Badwater
."

 
          
 
"We're not?"

 
          
 
Left Hand frowned at the
Sideways
Mountains
that rose before them. "No. I think
the sooner I take you to Singing Stones, the better off I'm going to be."

 
          
 
"Singing Stones? But I thought—"

 
          
 
"He's the most Powerful Dreamer I
know."

 
          
 
"I don't like that look you're giving
me."

 
          
 
Left Hand rubbed his forehead. "I don't
know what's going on, Bad Belly, but the sooner I'm away from you, the better
I'm going to feel."

 
          
 
Bad Belly pointed. "But a storm is
coming!"

 
          
 
"More than one, my friend. More than one.
I just hope you're up to it."

 
          
 
"Up to it? You're talking in
riddles." Bad Belly's nervous glance shifted back and forth from the
coming storm to Left Hand.

           
 
"Come on. It's a good thing you killed
those grouse. The dogs are going to need them."

 
          
 
'The dogs? But I . . . What are we going to
eat?"

 
          
 
"The packs are full, Bad Belly. That'll
keep us alive. If it means the loss of an entire season's Trade, that's fine.
If that's all it costs me, I'll be more than happy."

 
          
 
"But I thought—"

 
          
 
"Hush." Left Hand made the gesture
for silence. "Power guides all Trade. That's why it's sacred. What's in
the packs belongs to Power. If that's what we're supposed to live off, that's
what we'll do. The act of Trading depends on Power. Who am I to insult what
gives me my happiness?" Left Hand stalked away, almost running.