People of the Earth (98 page)

 
          
 
He closed his eyes again, blanking the pain of
the headache with long practice. Bit by bit, he let himself go. If he could
catch hold of that Power, perhaps he could fight the one-armed man and win
White Ash back.

 
          
 
I will learn this. If it takes the rest of my
life.

 
          
 
The voices in his head assured him, No . . .
soon. Seek. Power will be yours soon.

 
          
 
Before the council began, Wind Runner glanced
at White Ash; desperation lurked behind her controlled expression. He could see
it in the set of her eyes, in the tension around her mouth. Despite that, he
couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. The
midday
sun gleamed in her thick, raven hair. Her
thin antelope-hide dress clung to every curve, accenting the swell of her
breasts.

 
          
 
Her tension infected them all. The crippled
Earth man sat next to her, worry in his homely face. Across the council circle,
Black Moon looked nervous, as if he searched desperately for the right
direction to lead his clan. The uneasy warriors who sat around the circle
fingered their darts. Hidden messages passed as they shot dark glances back and
forth.

 
          
 
The sun-drenched camp waited in the
background. A hot breeze blew down from the west, and the sky burned brassy.

 
          
 
Wind Runner tightened his grip on
Aspen
's slim hand. Her touch reassured him. He
had made the right choice. He could see that now. White Ash belonged to Power.
She'd never been his to begin with.

 
          
 
The rest of the Black Point were assembling
amid a buzz of whispering voices. Only the children raised their voices to ask
questions. Somewhere a dog growled, and a hollow thump was followed by a yip.

 
          
 
When he saw that all had assembled, Black Moon
asked, "What is your wish, White Ash?"

 
          
 
White Ash spoke softly, eyes focused on a
place only she could see. "A runner will go to meet the Broken Stones.
Unarmed, he will ask Brave Man to meet us at the foot of the mountains. Brave
Man will demand that he be accompanied by five warriors. We will take five
warriors. We will meet at dusk, arriving at his fire. There he and I will face
each other for the future of the People."

 
          
 
"Who will be our runner?" Black Moon
asked as he looked around the council. "Who will carry White Ash's
message?"

 
          
 
The warriors glanced back and forth, fidgeting
under Black Moon's questioning gaze.

 
          
 
"I will do this thing," Snail Shell
said. He licked his lips. "I saw White Ash Dream the animals. I will
accept the honor."

 
          
 
"And which five warriors will accompany
White Ash to meet the Broken Stones?" Black Moon raised an eyebrow as he
searched face after face.

 
          
 
"I will go with my daughter," Sage
Ghost said. He squatted on his heels behind White Ash and the Earth man.
"I've been part of the Power this long. I will see where it leads."

 
          
 
"I will go," Blue Wind told them.
"I will show the Broken Stones the measure of Black Point courage."

 
          
 
Snail Shell spread his hands. "If I only
have to deliver a message, I can tell the Broken Stones what White Ash says and
then meet her party—provided someone will bring my weapons. It makes sense that
way. If I don't find her first, she'll know something went wrong and have time
to escape. Besides, I would see the end of this . . . and keep Blue Wind from
slipping away like a coward at the last instant." He grinned at his
friend. Blue Wind grinned back and continued pouring sand from one hand to the
other.

 
          
 
A nervous chuckle ran through the warriors.

 
          
 
Wind Runner swallowed around the knot in his
throat. "I also will go."

 
          
 
He felt
Aspen
's hand tense. Then she spoke up, "I,
too, can cast a dart. I will be the fifth."

 
          
 
Black Moon grunted. "White Ash? What of
the Black Point people? I want to take them away to a place where they won't be
so close to Broken Stones' warriors."

           
 
She nodded. "Do as you wish, clan
leader."

 
          
 
Snail Shell sighed and stood. He gave White
Ash a thoughtful look. "I put my trust in your Power. If I don't come
back, Sing extra loud for me. Thunderbird needs to know where to find my
soul."

 
          
 
White Ash leveled her brown eyes on the
warrior, and Wind Runner's hair prickled. She said, "Your courage will not
be forgotten, Snail Shell. Not by the One—or by the people."

 
          
 
Snail Shell gave her a weak smile and left.

 
          
 
Black Moon stood, leaning his head back.
"I wish you luck and Power, White Ash. The bravest of the Black Point go
with you."

 
          
 
He walked through the council circle then,
shouting, "Break camp! We go south!"

 
          
 
Wind Runner stared at the trampled ground as
the others rose to their feet in a babble of voices. A gust of hot wind flapped
Black Moon's lodge cover and swirled dust around the camp.

 
          
 
He raised his eyes to
Aspen
's. "Why?" he asked softly.

 
          
 
"Because I want to be there." She
shot a glance at White Ash, who sat quietly with a vacant look on her face.
"Perhaps I will understand better. Perhaps you will need me." She
smiled. "And if it goes wrong, I won't lose another man I love. Perhaps
Thunderbird will take us to the Camp of the Dead together."

 
          
 
He placed his hand on hers and rose to his
feet, pulling
Aspen
up. As he turned to leave, he looked at White Ash. She sat like stone.
Her features had turned ashen, as if she envisioned some terrifying future.
Wind Runner's soul shivered.

 
          
 
Bitterbrush searched Bad Belly's eyes when he
straightened up. He finished tying the robes onto his pack and set them against
the side of Sage Ghost's lodge. Confusion reigned as the camp was dismantled.
Bitterbrush placed hands against her temples and pressed, as if to restore
order to her thoughts. "In another time, I would tell you to quit this
foolishness and go gather firewood."

           
 
Still Water winked at her. "Tell me
anyway. It might make me feel better."

 
          
 
Her gaze softened. "I think those days
are over, Bad Belly. You're . . . different."

 
          
 
"You've always told me that."

 
          
 
The corners of her mouth twitched with
irritation. The expression amused him. She raised her hands overhead and
knotted them into fists. "Why do I try? You always make things more
difficult than they need to be."

 
          
 
"Do I?" He stepped out of the way as
several women hurried past with bulging
parfleches
.

 
          
 
"And you always have a question! It's
enough to drive anyone with sense half mad. Honestly, I wonder how Power could
pick someone like you. You must infuriate the Spirits no end."

 
          
 
He chuckled as two dogs harnessed in travois
clattered past, two little boys yelling in hot pursuit. "Spirits don't
care much about people. They have Spirit things to worry about. They have the
Spiral—at least, I think they do. What would they care about—"

 
          
 
"Bad Belly?"

 
          
 
"Huh?"

 
          
 
She smiled and pulled him close to hug
tightly. He stroked her hair and experienced a warmth he'd never felt for her
before. Then she pushed him back for a final inspection—as if to memorize the
way he looked.

 
          
 
White Ash emerged from the lodge and flashed
Still Water a fleeting smile before thrusting a handful of jerked meat and some
biscuit-root cakes into the bulging pack. Then she left on some errand.

 
          
 
Bitterbrush studied White Ash's departing back
thoughtfully, and asked out of the corner of her mouth, "How long has she
been pregnant?"

 
          
 
"How long has she . . . What?" Still
Water stood open-mouthed. His gaze darted after White Ash.

 
          
 
"Of course. You didn't know?"
Bitterbrush rolled her eyes, exasperated with him again. "She's sick in
the morning, isn't she? Look at her. See the color? See how her weight lies on
her body? She's missed her bleeding, hasn't she?"

           
 
Still Water gestured negation. "I—I
thought it was the worry.''

 
          
 
"And her bleeding?" Bitterbrush
raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

 
          
 
"Well, I don't pay attention to . .
." How long had it been? He remembered her gathering and shredding bark on
the way up into the
Grass
Meadow
Mountains
and complaining of cramps. But since then? Almost
two moons had passed. “Oh, no," he whispered.

 
          
 
Bitterbrush shook her head and gave him a
weary sigh. “I've borne enough to know. And Sage Ghost has planted himself
again. I wouldn't have seen her throwing up if I hadn't been out there myself."
She shook her head. “And you're going to fight against an evil Dreamer? A
cripple and a pregnant woman?" She glanced over at Sage Ghost, talking
earnestly with Tuber. “I just wish you'd left my husband out of it."

 
          
 
Still Water continued to stare after White
Ash, unable to find words.

 
          
 
“Close your mouth," Bitterbrush ordered. “You'll
have flies diving in."

 
          
 
Still Water shook his head. Pregnant? And she
has to Dream against Brave Man Tomorrow? He cast his eyes imploringly at the
sky. Did you know about this, Wolf Dreamer? Is this part of some Spirit plan?

 
          
 
White Ash led the group through the chaos of
camp-breaking, and her soul felt as though it were weighted with rock. About
her, lodges fell as people hurriedly pulled out the poles. Dogs yipped,
accompanied by curses and shouts, and
parfleches
and
packs were strapped onto travois. Children wailed and women called orders. Dust
rose under the rapid feet scurrying from one task to the next.

 
          
 
Still Water walked by her side, a stricken
expression on his face. She could feel his confusion and anxiety. Sage Ghost
walked on the other side, his every movement powered by a grim determination.
Behind her, Wind Runner and his woman matched step, side by side. She caught
hints of Wind Runner and
Aspen
's concern as they watched the Black Point prepare to flee. Blue Wind
brought up the rear, head high, darts gleaming in the sun.

 
          
 
Black Moon stopped his packing as they passed.
He nodded to White Ash, the gesture weakened by the turbulence in his soul. She
nodded back.

 
          
 
At the edge of the camp, a lodge lay spread on
the ground while a woman ordered a laboring captive: Basket. White Ash glanced
at her as they passed. Basket's face was filled with venomous hatred—enough to
send a jolt through White Ash.