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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries (44 page)

BOOK: The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries
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Dusty gave her an annoyed look, pulled his trowel from his back pocket, and carefully began excavating around the closest pole. When he’d cleared the edges, he wedged his trowel beneath the tip of the pole and gently levered it out of the ground. Darkness, not dirt, met his gaze. A musty scent rose.
Sylvia said, “I have the feeling you may have just inhaled the same air the Anasazi were breathing seven hundred and fifty years ago.”
Dusty said, “Sylvia, you and Steve help me with the other poles. This could also be a burial pit. We need to be very careful removing the ‘lid.’”
Maureen came over and stood beside the unit with her hands on her hips. “How deep is it?”
“Can’t tell yet,” Dusty answered and worked another pole loose. As he turned it over, he frowned. “Curious.”
“What is?” Maureen asked and knelt.
“The pole is charred on the top but not the bottom.”
“Which means?”
Dusty placed the pole to the side and started working on the next one. “Which means that soon after the fire started, the oxygen needed to burn through the poles vanished.”
“Snuffed when the roof collapsed?” Steve asked.
Dusty nodded. “I would say so, yes.”
Steve eased two poles out and laid them to the side, then helped Sylvia remove the pole she’d been working on.
Dusty got down on his stomach and leaned into the opening. He twisted, looking around at the beautiful masonry-lined walls, and the stairs leading down. “This is classic Chacoan stonework. I’d guess circa A.D. 1090 to A.D. 1100.
Gorgeous.
”
“How deep is it?” Maureen repeated.
Dusty said, “If you will hand me the flashlight from my dig kit—”
“On the way.” Maureen trotted for the green ammo box where Dusty kept his excavation tools. Metal rattled, then she ran back and
handed it to him. “Be careful. There could be something fragile in the bottom, like a human body.”
“That’s
why
I asked for the flashlight, Doctor. Feeling my feet slide off skulls unnerves me.”
Dusty pressed the switch and a flood of yellow bathed the opening. In an awed voice, Steve said, “Yes, indeed. That’s Chacoan masonry. Look at those stairs. Every stone was rubbed together until it fitted so tightly they didn’t even need mortar. I wonder if the Mesa Verdean folks who came here in the mid-twelve-hundreds knew this opening existed?”
“They must have,” Sylvia replied. “The poles burned on the top, which means they weren’t covered with dirt when the roof fell.”
Dusty said, “I’m going in to get a better look. Be prepared to rescue me if the opening collapses.”
“Go for it,” Sylvia said.
Dusty put his foot on the first stair and tested it to see if it would hold his weight. Then he walked deeper, one stair at a time.
“What’s down there?” Steve called.
Dusty looked up and could see three heads leaning over the opening. Billowing clouds filled the blue sky above them. “Well,” Dusty said as he examined the collapsed wall in front of him. “You were right. This was definitely a tunnel.”
“A kiva tunnel!” Steve said excitedly. “I’ve never opened one before.”
“You have now.” Dusty ran his fingers over the cool stones.
Maureen said, “What was the tunnel used for?”
“During the Chacoan period, they were primarily ceremonial. The priests could emerge from the underworlds right before the eyes of the faithful. Later, after all the kiva burnings started, villages began building escape passageways, just in case their enemies attacked during a ritual and caught them inside the kiva.”
Maureen called, “Do you think someone tried to escape through the passageway when this kiva caught fire?”
Dusty examined the walls, then knelt and surveyed the floor. A layer of dark brown earth covered the ground. When the tunnel collapsed, the force had thrown rock and dirt into this part of the passageway, covering up any evidence of usage. He saw no artifacts.
“I doubt that we’ll ever know.”
S
OMEONE PRODDED A FIRE WITH A STICK, AND REDCROP jerked awake, but she kept her eyes closed, listening, trying to learn as much as she could before they knew she had awakened.
Moccasins brushed sand. The steps light.
Dried blood matted the back of Redcrop’s skull, and she felt like her head might explode. Was that what had happened? She’d been struck in the head? She remembered little about last night. She’d seen the Wolf Katsina rise from the brush, and for an instant thought it might be one of the sacred Dancers, then the katsina had leaped out with a war club …
The sound of breathing. Close. And the smell of vomit and smoked leather.
Redcrop shivered.
“Are you awake?”
a child whispered.
Redcrop opened her eyes, and the little girl jumped back as though she’d been struck. She squatted five paces away, breathing hard.
Redcrop looked up at the concave stone ceiling of a rock shelter. The firelit roof stretched ten body lengths over her head. Her gaze followed the sloping rear wall down to the rolls of bedding hides five body lengths away. Two rolls. Firelight swirled over the thick buffalo fur. A third roll of hides, smaller, a child’s hides, lay near Redcrop.
Where are the adults?
“Who are you?” Redcrop asked.
The girl didn’t answer. She wore a filthy grease-stained hide cape, and her long black hair looked as though it had not been combed in moons. Bits of bark and leaves tangled with the snarls.
Redcrop forced herself to sit up and almost collapsed from the pain in her head. Yucca cords wrapped her ankles, and she could sense that her arms had been tied behind her back, but she couldn’t feel them. They might have been dead meat.
“Water?” Redcrop croaked. “Could I have some water?”
The girl twisted her dirty hands in her lap.
Water pots sat near the fire hearth, along with nests of cups, bowls, and horn spoons. An enormous soot-blackened pot hung on a tripod at the edge of the flames. Just to the right of the big pot lay a bundle. An object the size of a large gourd had been carefully wrapped in bright yellow cloth.
A sandy wash ran at the base of the rock shelter. The way out? “Where is this place?”
Redcrop looked up at the juniper-studded canyon rim thirty body lengths away. Humps of tan sandstone stood silhouetted against the pale blue gleam of dawn. Many shallow canyons cut the desert. She might be anywhere, a hand of time from Longtail village or a day’s walk.
“How long did I sleep?”
The girl sucked her lower lip.
On the verge of tears, Redcrop choked out, “My name is Redcrop. What’s your name?”
The girl cocked her head as though listening to the darkness. Her eyes darted to the junipers and the popping coals. She looked back at Redcrop, then duck-walked closer.
“Are you a witch?” she whispered.
Redcrop stared at her, then shook her aching head. “No. I’m just a girl, like you.”
“Grandfather says all of your people are witches.”
“The Katsinas’ People aren’t witches. We just believe in different gods than you do.”
The girl peered at her with glassy, inhuman eyes. The feral eyes of a wolf pup.
Redcrop said, “The katsinas—”
“Eat people’s souls!” the girl shouted. “That’s what happened to her!” She whirled around and pointed to a dark alcove in the rear of the rock shelter. “Katsinas sucked her souls out through her ears.”
Redcrop had to squint against the fire’s gleam to see the rounded shape hanging on the wall. “What is that?”
“An old husk.”
It took Redcrop several heartbeats to realize she was looking at a mummy, a mummy with a rope around her waist. White hair fluttered in the cold breeze. She murmured, “Blessed Ancestors.”
The girl nodded. “She was the first Matron to believe in the katsinas. She made all of her people believe in them, too. That’s why she’s a mummy. The katsinas—”
“The katsinas are good gods. They bring rain and game animals, and they watch over us to keep us—”
The girl shouted, “They started the war between the First People and the Made People so they would have food!”
Redcrop felt sick. She sank back to the ground and curled onto her side. When the sickening throb in her head dimmed, she repeated, “What’s your name? My name is Redcrop.”
The girl chewed her lip for several moments, then answered, “Piper’s Song, but my people call me Piper.”
“Piper,” Redcrop said and smiled. “That’s a pretty name.”
The girl smiled back, a quick, almost horrifying gesture: an animal pretending to be a little girl.
Piper hissed, “Are you one of the Made People?”
Redcrop’s heart thudded against her ribs. “No. I was captured when I was younger than you. My people believe we came to this world as wolves made from gouts of Father Sun’s fire. We—”
“Oh. You’re a Fire Dog.”
“Yes, though I’ve lived with Made People almost my whole life.”
“Made People aren’t really human,” Piper confided. “The Creator made them look human, but they have animal souls. Under their skins they are really buffaloes, and bears, and ants. That’s why they worship the katsinas. Katsinas have animal souls, too.”
Redcrop lay there, her head splitting, and forced her lungs to slowly breathe in and out.
Piper pointed a dirty finger at the mummy. “My great-great-grandfather was the son of the Blessed Cornsilk and the Blessed Swallowtail.”
Redcrop frowned. She’d never heard of Swallowtail. His name had no place in the sacred stories of Cornsilk and Poor Singer. She wondered who he might have been. Perhaps he’d been made an Outcast, and his name deliberately forgotten by his people. Her gaze returned to the mummy.
“What was her name?”
“Hmm?” Piper turned to look. “Oh, she was Matron Night Sun. Grandfather looked for her for many summers.”
Night Sun.
The red gleam from the coals danced across Piper’s face.
“Where did he find her?”
“In a fallen-down room at Talon Town. Made People captured her and her family and dragged them back there. They kept them as slaves for a while. Then they killed her and walled her up in a room.” Piper pounded the air with her fists. “Grandfather had to knock the wall down with a big rock to get to her.”
Wind swirled through the shelter and the fire spluttered. Light danced over the mummy’s shriveled face.
“He knocked down a lot of walls before he found her,” Piper said. “I’ve been to Talon Town. It’s old and dirty. I don’t wish to go back. It scares me.”
Night Sun had been the last great ruler of the Straight Path Nation. She’d given up everything to marry one of the Made People. After she was gone, the other First People had made her an Outcast. But rather than ordering that her name be forgotten, they had decreed that no one would ever forget her name. It seemed a pathetic irony that Made People had dragged her back to the town she had abandoned, and forced her to live there as a slave before they’d killed her.
Flame Carrier had always told Night Sun’s story in a reverent but pained voice. Redcrop recalled because she’d never understood that pain. It had verged on guilt, and Redcrop couldn’t fathom why her grandmother would feel guilty about Night Sun’s decision to abandon her people for the love of a man.
Redcrop said, “I’ve heard stories of Night Sun.”
“You have?” Piper said excitedly. “Tell me!”
Redcrop shook her head. If she was going to have any chance of escape, she had to build up her strength. “I need food and water. I’m very thirsty and I haven’t really eaten in days.”
Piper turned to look back at the pots near the fire. Her young brow furrowed. “I don’t think I’d better. Grandfather didn’t say you could drink or eat.”
“Where is your family?”
“Mother and Grandfather went away to pray. They’ll be back soon.”
“Where’s your father?”
Piper tilted her head as though she didn’t understand the question. “Grandfather will be back soon.”
“How soon?”
Piper lifted a shoulder. “They usually come back around dawn.”
Redcrop surveyed the slice of pale blue sky visible over the canyon rim. Less than a hand of time away.
“Piper, I’m sure your mother would want me to have water. I’m just a girl, like you. Your mother would give you water if you were thirsty, wouldn’t she? And food?”
Piper thought about that for a time, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Did your mother or grandfather say I couldn’t have food or water?”
“No.”
“Then I think it would be all right. I would be very grateful if you would bring me a cup of water and some food.”
Piper rose uncertainly, hesitated, then trotted to the fire. She dipped up a cup of water and tucked a brown fabric bag under her chin. As she walked around the fire, carrying the cup in both hands so she wouldn’t spill it, Piper tripped over the yellow bundle. The bundle started rolling down the slight incline, peeling off the cloth, until a skull tumbled out.
Redcrop saw the toothless mouth and the hole in the bone, and memories of last night came flooding back. Her grandmother’s grave had been desecrated, her body stolen …
Oh, gods.
Piper set the cup of water in front of Redcrop, and sat down cross-legged at her side. “I can’t untie you,” the girl said as she placed the brown bag at her feet, “but I can help you.”
Piper lifted the cup to Redcrop’s lips, and she drank greedily, spilling water down the front of her white cape, but her gaze remained on the skull.
It can’t be. Can it?
Redcrop said, “Thank you, Piper. That was good.”
Piper nodded and gestured north up the wash. “There’s a little pool. It isn’t big enough to bathe in, but we fill our water pots there.”
Redcrop watched Piper untie the laces on the brown bag and pull out a long strip of jerky. She held it up for Redcrop to take a bite. Redcrop tore off a hunk with her teeth and chewed. Crushed beeweed sprinkled the meat, giving it a delicious peppery taste. Redcrop swallowed and Piper held up the jerky for her to take another bite. As she chewed, her stomach squealed, longing for more.
“Do you live here?” Redcrop asked.
“Sometimes.” Piper jerked a nod. “But mostly we live in falling-down villages where Grandfather’s people used to live.”
“Do you know the names of the villages? Maybe I’ve been to them.”
Piper ate as though she hadn’t had food in a moon, chewing swiftly, swallowing, and ripping off more jerky. “We lived in Talon Town for a while, then Center Place, and Sunset Town. Since last spring, we’ve lived around here. I like it better here than in Straight Path Canyon. Too many bad ghosts live there.”
With the food, the pain in Redcrop’s head began to ease. She took a deep breath and felt a little better. “Who is your grandfather? What does he do?”
“He’s a great Trader. He lives in other villages most of the time.” Piper stuffed the last bite of jerky into her own mouth, and pulled out another strip. She let Redcrop take a bite, and slurred, “This is good meat, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I like the beeweed flavor.”
“Me too. Mother sprinkles the meat with beeweed and dried phlox blossoms. It’s the flowers that give the meat the sweet taste.”
“It’s really good.”
Piper smiled, as if proud of her mother. “Yes, Made People have animal souls. That’s why we can eat them. They’re not really human. They’re like buffalo and bear … what’s wrong?”
Redcrop choked down the meat she’d already started to swallow and sat trembling.
“Do you need water?” Piper asked, her young voice worried. The more Redcrop shook, the more stunning the pain in her head became. She tried to calm herself by closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She choked again and Piper scrambled to her feet.
“I’ll get you another cup of water!”
Piper ran to the water pots by the fire, filled the cup, and rushed back. “Here,” she said as she tipped the cup to Redcrop’s lips.
Redcrop drank, cleaning the taste from her mouth.
When Piper lowered the cup, she leaned close and stared deeply into Redcrop’s eyes. “More?”
“No. No, thank you.”
Piper sat down in front of Redcrop, drew up her knees, and reached for another stick of jerky. She propped her elbows on her knees as she ate, staring at Redcrop with bright curious eyes.
Piper said, “You’re pretty.”
“You’re pretty, too, Piper. Doesn’t your mother ever comb your hair?” Piper stopped eating and looked at the filthy snarls that fell over her shoulders. “There have been a lot of Bead Days.”
BOOK: The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries
13.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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