People of the Earth (75 page)

 
          
 
The war leader stepped out into the indigo
twilight. Brave Man asked Pale Raven, "East? Why?"

 
          
 
"Perhaps your White Ash is with them.
Perhaps she, too, has traveled into the plains."

 
          
 
South, the voices hissed. South . . . with
Power.

 
          
 
He squinted at the fire. "No. I would
know. Power would know. She came from the Earth People. There she will
return."

 
          
 
Pale Raven checked the bubbling stew and came
to lie next to him. "Flying Hawk is right, you know. You have led us well.
Not even two tens of warriors died while driving the Wolf People away. Your
Power grows."

 
          
 
"Enough to separate the Broken Stones
from the old ways?"

 
          
 
Tiny lines etched her forehead as she
considered. He admired the set of her thin brows and watched the firelight play
over the smooth skin of her face. He reached up to run his fingers down the
line of her jaw and caress her throat.

 
          
 
"I don't know," she said. "As
long as you lead them well, Dream with the Power you have, they'll follow.
Behind their hands, and in their robes at night, they'll worry."

 
          
 
"Flying Hawk and his warriors
won't."

 
          
 
She gave him an amused smile. "They're
wolves. They've had a taste of fresh blood and they hunger for more."

 
          
 
He nodded. "I intend to give it to
them."

 
          
 
She took his hand in hers. "Is it true?
What you told Flying Hawk? Do you Dream something great for the Broken
Stones?"

 
          
 
His face tightened. "I can't see it all
yet . . . just glimpses in the Dreams. Things I can't understand. There is a
four-sided mountain made of square stones that humans have fitted together. And
feathers ... I see feathers, of all the colors you can imagine. On top of the
square-stone mountain a man stands, raising an obsidian knife to the Sun. Blood
drips from the tip." He took a breath. "When I have that Dream, my
loins tingle, as if I shall plant the seed that grows into that man."

 
          
 
She nodded, as though seeing it in her soul.
"Perhaps you already have."

 
          
 
He studied her warily.

 
          
 
She shifted in order to run her long fingers
down the side of his head. "A powerful people. A strong people. That's
what we shall make."

 
          
 
"We?"

 
          
 
The corners of her lips twitched smugly. Her
eyes seemed to grow deeper, to draw him in. "I missed my bleeding, Brave
Man.
My stomach turns ill in the morning. I've
started to gain weight. I think you have planted your child. Find your White
Ash, take her as often as you like. Let's see which of your children climbs
this mountain of stone and wields the bloody knife."

 
          
 
Beside Brave Man's knee, the little stone wolf
statue gleamed in the firelight.

 
          
 
"Clear your mind," Singing Stones
told White Ash. "Listen to the voice that isn't there."

 
          
 
Tranquility filled the Soul Flier's eyes as he
watched her. They sat cross-legged on the uneven stones that littered the high
ridge top. The old man might have been one with the very rock. His
mountain-sheepskin coat had the same pale buff color as the surrounding stone.
A flat-topped beaver-hide cap covered his silver hair.

 
          
 
White Ash concentrated on the old man's gentle
words and frowned. "I don't understand. How can you listen to something
that isn't there?"

 
          
 
“Ah, but that's the secret to Power." He
gestured toward the vast expanse of the
Wind
Basin
with a withered hand. 44 Is the world
there?"

 
          
 
“Of course it is." The afternoon breeze
tugged at her braided hair, flicking the gleaming black strands this way and
that. Her bottom had begun to ache from sitting on the wind-polished rocks.
Here and there amber grasses quivered in the living air. Phlox bloomed in white
and light blue, the scent filling her nostrils. The star wheel lay to her
right; the ominous bulk of the
Grass
Meadow
Mountains
rose over her left shoulder. Before her, to
the south, the patterns of the
Wind
Basin
rippled in vibrant green, white, and buff.
Islands of fluffy cloud rode on an endless blue sky.

 
          
 
“Close your eyes," Singing Stones
commanded. "Keep them closed. Is the world still there?"

 
          
 
“Yes. All I have to do is open my eyes and it
will be just as I remembered."

 
          
 
"That is your problem. You are blinded by
your sight. Numb from what you feel. Deafened by what you hear. Everything
around you is illusion. What you observe is only what your eyes, ears, nose,
mouth, and flesh make it. Your senses separate you from the One. That which is
White Ash is a lie. Only by discarding all that you are will you become all
that you are not."

 
          
 
She nodded, struggling to understand and
obey—and failing. "Singing Stones, that's all well and fine to say. But my
bladder's full and my rear has gone to sleep."

 
          
 
Singing Stones chuckled. “At least you listen,
and seek. Go . . . take care of your body. I remember the trouble I had at
first. The Dreams led me part of the way to the One. It took me years to
discover the rest."

 
          
 
She stood, taking a wobbling on bloodless
legs. “I don't understand. You have the Power. You know how to reach out and
touch the One. Why do you need me?"

 
          
 
He looked out over the basin. "Because I
am an old man. You—and Still Water—must face a challenge few Dreamers have ever
known: You must Dream and live among the People at the same time."

 
          
 
"Stop right there. I'll be back in a
moment and we'll talk more about it."

 
          
 
She winced against the painful tingle as blood
ran through her cramped legs. Everything that happens, happens because of me.
Sage Ghost stole me from Three Forks. Wind Runner left. The White Clay died.
Brave Man attacked the Wolf People. Still Water came to rescue me. I led him to
the Wolf Bundle. Unease settled within her. Even here on the ridge top, the Wolf
Bundle's presence lingered in her soul.

 
          
 
When she'd relieved herself, she returned and
sat down next to the old Dreamer. He didn't seem to have moved a muscle.

 
          
 
"Now, finish what you were telling
me." White Ash pulled her legs up and clasped her hands in front of her
knees. She couldn't keep her eyes off the expanse. Dappled cloud shadows
spotted the land, smoothing and softening the rugged soul of the basin. The
land seemed to breathe with a languorous patience.

 
          
 
Singing Stones turned bright eyes on her.
"Anyone can Dream. All he needs is the will to seek. The One lies all
around us—denied by the senses, as I just told you. A Dreamer has to peel away
the layers of himself. You have peeled wild onions. Shell after shell is
removed. And what do you find at the core?"

 
          
 
She chewed her lip, thinking about it.
"An onion doesn't have a core. Just a final shell. Nothing is there but
onion."

 
          
 
"And the path to the One is the
same." Singing Stones closed his eyes, and his nostrils flared as he
filled his lungs. "Everything that is White Ash must be removed. Your soul
must be pure, silent. It must listen without hearing. You must deny yourself.
You will learn that eventually. Your soul is already close to the One."

           
 
"But you said I faced a challenge few
other Dreamers have known."

 
          
 
Singing Stones raised his eyebrows and smiled
wistfully. "I've felt the need of Power. My visions have given me glimpses
of the future that might be if the Sun People do not accept First Man's Dream.
You must face this Brave Man and return to the Sun People—Dream their Power
into the Spiral. To do that, you must live among them."

 
          
 
She rubbed nervous hands along her arms.
"I've lived among them before."

 
          
 
"But not as a Dreamer," Singing
Stones countered. "When a person seeks the Dream, he comes to a place like
this . . . away from the distractions that perpetuate the illusion of life. It
is easier to concentrate in solitude. Women aren't laughing, children aren't
crying. Men aren't telling stories, and the camp dogs aren't yipping and
fighting. The problems that hobble people who are living together don't
intrude."

 
          
 
A knot tightened in her soul. Live with the
People? Face Brave Man? Is that what Singing Stones sees? She closed her eyes
and took a deep breath. / will never live with the Broken Stones. I'll kill
myself first. "I don't understand what the problem is. The Sun People are
healthy and strong. They have their Soul Fliers to Dream for them. Why do they
need me?"

 
          
 
He blinked and studied her pensively.
"The coming of the Sun People has changed the Spiral."

 
          
 
"The Spiral?"

 
          
 
"Circles within circles, having no
beginning or end. The Spiral is the world. Plants grow in the earth. Some
animals eat the plants. Predators eat the animals that eat the plants. Men eat
the animals as well as the plants. When men and predators die, their bodies
return to the earth. Could the plants grow if the bodies of the living didn't
nourish the earth? Would the animals live if they couldn't eat the plants?
Where does it begin? Where does it end? The Spiral represents all that is—and
is not. When does the soul begin? When does it end? Power runs through the
Spiral. First Man Dances in the Spiral. The Wolf Bundle Sings in the Spiral.
The Spiral is the One."

 
          
 
"All that is, and is not." The words
haunted her.

 
          
 
"And more."

 
          
 
"We'll save that for later. I want to
know about the Sun People. You said they're changing the Spiral."

 
          
 
"The Spiral is part of the world—and it
isn't." Singing Stones made an encompassing gesture. "Think of it
like the reflection in a pool of water. Is the reflection part of the water? Or
part of the light? If the breeze stirs the water, the reflection breaks into
fragments. If the water is moving, the reflection is distorted. If you choose
to dip your finger into the water, ripples change the reflection. That is what
the coming of the Sun People is doing to the Spiral. They're sending ripples
through the Spiral, because they don't know the One."

 
          
 
"But if everything is part of the One, so
are they."

 
          
 
"Are they?" The smile Singing Stones
gave her touched her soul.

 
          
 
She knotted her fists. "Then I don't
understand. If the One is all that is, and is not, the Sun People must be part
of the One."

 
          
 
He lifted his face to the rays of the sun.
"They are part of the One . . . but they don't know it. They have masked
themselves in illusion. They live separately. When you lived with the Sun
People, how often did you hear them talk about the One? How often do their
Dreamers speak of the One, or leave their camps to seek visions?"

 
          
 
She narrowed her eyes. "They stay in
their lodges and send their souls to the Camp of the Dead. That's where they
gain their Power. They seek it from the souls of the dead."

 
          
 
His expression didn't change. "The Sun
People are new to this land. They are young, vigorous. You lived among them.
When did you first feel the One?"

 
          
 
"When Bright Moon died."

 
          
 
"And before that? Did you know the One,
or were you content that you knew the way the world is?"

 
          
 
She took a deep breath. "I thought I knew
the way the world is."

           
 
"Yours is the blood of First Man. Perhaps
that's why he sent you to the Sun People. To teach them."

 
          
 
She shook her head. "But I didn't hear
the call of the One among the Earth People, either. They're descended from
First Man."

 
          
 
"That is true." Singing Stones gave
a faint nod. "But they, too, have discarded the One for illusion. They
have forgotten the Spiral that Fire Dancer told them about. You and Still Water
are close to the One in different ways. It is the nature of Still Water's soul
to feel the reflection of the One around him. It is the nature of yours to
Dream. Power knows you, White Ash. You are a bridge between the worlds ... in
the same way that a log lies across a rushing river. You touch both
banks."

 
          
 
"How do you know so much? I feel almost
helpless."

 
          
 
He smiled at her, brown eyes depthless,
eternal. "Dreamers are as different as people." He pressed his palms
together. "I will tell you a story. When I was young, I felt the One. It
came in my Dreams, and the leader of my clan told me to go be a Healer. The
feeling of Power grew stronger. Then, at the Gathering one year, Cattail
brought the Wolf Bundle among us. I picked it up and felt its Power. That night
I Dreamed of the Sun People, and of the future. I left the People to come here
and to learn to Dream."

 
          
 
He paused for a moment, floating in his
memories. "When I touched the Wolf Bundle, a door opened in my mind. I
knew what Power wanted. I Dreamed First Man as he Danced fire and showed me the
way to the north, to the Sun People."

 
          
 
"But you didn't go?"

 
          
 
Singing Stones shook his head. "I tried
to several times, but the Dream kept bringing me back here. You see, the Dream
is a trap. The things of this world become less and less important. I had found
the One, the thunderous silence, the blinding darkness ... the ecstatic
desolation."