The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries (52 page)

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

BOOK: The Summoning God: Book II of the Anasazi Mysteries
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Sage sighed and looked at the three stone rings. Faint whimpers echoed, like standing inside a big seashell. Sage cocked her head. After a moment, she asked, “Is that a little boy? Or a little girl?”
Magpie and Barbara exchanged a look, then took up positions on either side of Sage’s chair.
Magpie said, “I’m sorry, Aunt, we don’t hear anything.”
Sage whispered, “It sounds like a girl to me.”
Magpie’s forehead lined. “I thought it was a man who came to you in your dream, Aunt Sage?”
“Yes, but ghosts don’t always come by themselves. The girl might want to be freed today, too.”
It took two tries before Sage could shove out of her chair and stagger into the inner ring to stand between Dusty and Maureen. They both looked up at her expectantly.
“I’m almost ready,” she said, and fumbled open the laces on the white-painted leather bag. The sweet nutty aroma of white corn rose.
Sage waited until the first golden sliver of Father Sun’s face crested the dark hills in the distance, then she dipped her fingers into the sacred cornmeal and lifted it. As she Sang, she walked forward, sprinkling a path of white cornmeal to the east. Then she followed the path back, tugged open the bag of red cornmeal, and poured a path to the south. The yellow road led west, and, finally, Sage poured a blue cornmeal road to the north—sacred roads for the trapped ghosts to follow to the Land of the Dead.
A luminous haze of meal swirled around Dusty and Maureen, coating their clothing and sticking to their hair, purifying them.
A little girl’s laughter, sweet and high.
Sage saw the green glow seep out of Dusty and sail away up the blue cornmeal road to the north.
As Father Sun rose higher, the hills cast off the dark capes of night and gleamed like molten gold. Sage lifted her arms to the sky, then carefully bent over and touched earth, sealing the prayers.
When she straightened up, Sage just looked for a time, not thinking
of anything, not wanting anything, just being grateful she was alive to see the morning light.
Finally, she braced her wobbly legs and looked down at Dusty and Maureen. “You can go now. The ghost that was squatting inside you is free, gone. She’s running the road to the Land of the Dead. I don’t know how that old witch managed to lock a sad little girl’s soul in that
basilisco
you had, Dusty, but she was glad we set her free.”
Dusty’s blond hair shimmered with cornmeal. “It was a little girl who was giving me bad dreams?”
Sage nodded. “I think she knew that some day you’d have sense enough to get cleansed. That’s why when she touched your soul, she wouldn’t let go.”
Maureen reached up to lightly take Sage’s hand. In a soft voice, she asked, “Elder, what about me?”
Sage squeezed her fingers. “Every person carries within her a life road that is watched over by Spirit beings. Yours are strong. You have fiery creatures who protect you, Washais. Do you know them?”
Maureen’s face slackened. “The
Gaasyendietha,
yes. Thank you for telling me, Elder Walking Hawk.” She touched her forehead to Sage’s fingers, silently asking for her blessing, then smiled.
Sage patted her hand and released it.
As she hobbled back to her chair, she waved a hand. “Now, I want all of you to go away. I need to sit here by myself for a while.” She slumped into the lawn chair and heaved a tired breath.
Sage waited until Dusty and Maureen had put on their coats and boots and started down the trail to the ruins with Barbara and Magpie, then turned to the man who stood to her right, near the outer ring. He was tall, with light brown hair and green eyes.
Sage said, “She’s all right now. You’ve taken good care of her, but you’ve got to think of yourself. This may be your last chance to get free.”
Sage could feel his worry, his love for Washais. She pointed to the north. “That’s the way. Go on now. She’ll be with you again before you know it.”
The blue glow faded, then flared, as if he’d turned to look at Washais one last time.
“Isn’t that why you called to me in my dream?” Sage asked gently. “You knew it was time? You were right. It’s all right to let her go. Go on. Let her go now. Let her go.”
The blue cornmeal at the edge of the ring whirled up in a gust of wind and sailed away with the man’s soul, carrying it northward.
Sage smiled and nodded to herself.
 
MAUREEN SHIVERED SUDDENLY AND GASPED, FEELING AS IF she’d just been bludgeoned. She braced a hand against the magnificent sandstone wall of Aztec Ruins.
She heard Dusty say, “Excuse me.”
He left Barbara and Magpie watching their aunt, and trotted to Maureen. “Are you all right?”
Maureen’s throat had constricted; it hurt too much to speak. She shook her head.
Without a word, Dusty put his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He didn’t ask anything else, he just held her. Maureen listened to his heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Dusty finally whispered, “Is there something I can do?”
Maureen disentangled herself from his arms. Dusty seemed reluctant to let her go, but he did.
She said, “Thank you, but I’m all right. I just felt suddenly empty, like a part of me had been ripped away.”
Dusty scrutinized her face, then said, “It’s probably hunger. I’m starving, aren’t you? These cleansings take a lot of strength.”
Maureen smiled. “Yes, actually, I am hungry.”
“Why don’t you let me take you and the Walking Hawks out to breakfast? I know a place nearby with great
huevos rancheros.”
“Sounds good.” She forced herself to smile.
“Great. Let me go ask them.” But before he left he looked her over carefully again. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” she said, and waved him away. “Go on. I’m just going to stand here for a minute.”
As Dusty hiked up the trail, Maureen sagged against the stone wall. She felt like weeping. She was alone for the first time since John’s death, and she knew it. She looked northward and her eyes blurred. A pale blue gleam lit the horizon.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, “but I’m glad you’re finally on your way.”
S
TONE GHOST STOOD ON THE BURNED KIVA WALL GAZING up at the ash-filled sky. Buzzards circled high above. They looked like windblown black leaves against the snowy clouds.
Straighthorn breathed, “I pray I can stay here until the end.”
Stone Ghost turned to the youth. He stood barely an arm’s length away, but the still autumn day seemed to catch his voice and throw it around the burned village. It had the same effect as a shout.
The mourners who had gathered for the burial ceremony turned to look at him, then murmurs broke out.
Stone Ghost put a hand on the young warrior’s shoulder. His buckskin cape felt warm and soft. “You can. Just think about the color of the sky and the birdsong.”
“I can’t think of anything but her face when she died!”
Stone Ghost squeezed his shoulder. Inside him, he had a wall of faces like that, each one caught in that final moment, each one a silent scream. He said, “I hope you will share my supper tonight, Straighthorn. I knew so little about her, I would like to know more.”
Straighthorn closed his eyes, and his jaw clamped as though struggling with overwhelming emotions. “Thank you, Elder. I would like to share your supper.”
The people standing on the kiva walls whispered as they handed around baskets of dirt. Jackrabbit reached up for each basket and gave it to Catkin, who silently stepped through the dead, pouring dirt over them.
The pungent scents of burned bodies and scorched walls made it almost impossible to take a deep breath. Coils of smoke continued to rise from the destroyed village and twist away in the wind.
Catkin’s small detachment had found Flame Carrier’s skull and the bodies of Skink and Water Snake. They had also looked for the little girl. Catkin had tracked the girl for a hand of time, then lost her
steps in the rocks. Catkin had also reported seeing the mummy still hanging in the rear of the rock shelter. Since she had belonged to a powerful witch, no one would touch her. No one would bring her home.
That morning, Crossbill had ordered that Skink and Water Snake be thrown into shallow graves. Everyone had watched as Cloudblower placed sandstone slabs over their heads, sealing their souls in the earth forever. They would wail into the darkness for eternity, never able to join their relatives in the Land of the Dead.
Redcrop had been gently lowered into the tower kiva with the burned children, and Cloudblower had arranged Flame Carrier’s skull so that her forehead touched Redcrop’s temple—that way they could whisper to each other as they always had.
People had been carrying baskets of dirt for five hands of time now. The bodies, and a few small pots of offerings—everything people had left after the fire—were almost covered.
Browser rounded the northeastern corner of the ruined village, and Stone Ghost turned to watch him. He walked as though he had barely enough strength to force his feet to move. Cloudblower had cleansed and wrapped Browser’s head wound with tan cloth. The tied ends fluttered over his left ear. Browser’s chamber had been completely burned, all of his belongings lost. One of the Dry Creek village warriors had given Browser a clean knee-length yellow shirt to wear. It complemented his red leggings.
Stone Ghost patted Straighthorn’s shoulder and said, “I hope to see you at supper,” then he turned for the ladder that leaned against the rear wall. He took the rungs down one at a time, wincing at the pain in his knees. When he stepped to the ground, he sighed and headed toward his nephew.
Browser smiled weakly and lifted a hand when he saw Stone Ghost.
Stone Ghost called, “How are you feeling, Nephew?”
As he walked closer, Browser put a hand to his head. “My left eye is still blurry, but Cloudblower says she thinks it will pass. Is the burial almost over?”
Stone Ghost looked up at the people standing on the high kiva wall. “Yes, very close. Catkin has a few more baskets of dirt to pour.” He took Browser by the arm. “I would like to show you something, Nephew, if you are well enough.”
Browser frowned. “What is it, Uncle?”
Stone Ghost led Browser out into the juniper grove. Ash coated the evergreen branches and lay half a hand thick on the ground. It puffed with every step they took, swirling up to coat their hair and clothing. The entire world seemed to have turned gray. Even Father Sun’s brilliance had been dimmed by the ash that swirled in the air.
“There,” Stone Ghost said, and pointed.
A hundred hands north of the village, a large sandstone boulder lay overturned. Clumps of damp earth clung to the side that had been on the ground.
“What happened to the rock?”
“Someone rolled it aside, Nephew.”
“Why?”
Stone Ghost released Browser’s arm. “See for yourself. I found it this morning.”
Browser plodded up the hill and frowned down at the square, pole-framed hole in the ground. The timbers were old and brittle. He swiveled to look back at the village. “What is this?”
Stone Ghost hobbled up and eased down onto the boulder. “A tunnel to the tower kiva. I crawled into it right after I discovered it. It goes all the way to the middle of the kiva floor.”
Cold panic filled Browser. His heart started to hammer. “You mean you think this is how he got out?”
Stone Ghost nodded. “I think he shoved the last child up onto the roof, so no one would see him leave, then he dug up the door in the kiva floor and ran.”
“But how old is this? How could he have known about it?”
Stone Ghost laced his fingers in his lap. “I suspect it was originally constructed over one hundred sun cycles ago, to allow First Man and First Woman to make a grand entrance during ceremonials. Can you imagine them climbing up into the kiva, emerging from the underworlds, as they did in the Beginning Time? The spectators must have been amazed.”
Browser reached into the tunnel and pulled out a handful of dirt. “It smells old and dank. I wonder how long it’s been since someone used it?”
“Other than two nights ago, you mean? Oh, many summers. Sixty, seventy. Perhaps more.”
Browser let the dirt trickle through his fingers. “But Two Hearts knew about it.”
“Yes. He probably discovered it when he lived here thirty summers ago. Or maybe he was told about it by relatives who lived here long before that. It’s hard to say.” Stone Ghost’s eyes tightened. He paused for a long while, then said, “Nephew, there is something I must tell you. Do you recall the story I began last night when we were sitting by the First People’s spiral?”
Browser nodded with care, as though the motion hurt. “Yes, Uncle. What of it?”
Stone Ghost reached for his nephew’s hand. “I would like to finish that story, if you don’t mind.”
“Go on.”
Stone Ghost took a deep breath and very softly said, “My grandmother, Orenda, married the second son of Cornsilk and Poor Singer.”
Browser’s strength seemed to fail.
“What?”
He sank to the ground with his mouth open. “Are you telling me that I—I am …”
Stone Ghost held up a hand to halt the flood of questions he knew would be coming. “His name was Snowbird. I don’t know much about him, except that he was a very gentle man, much like his father, Poor Singer. But despite his peaceful nature, Snowbird was always at war with his older brother. He—”
“Who was his older brother?”
“The Blessed Ravenfire.” At the look on Browser’s face, Stone Ghost said, “Yes, your dead Matron’s father. He was Cornsilk’s firstborn. I don’t know how it happened exactly, but Ravenfire was not Poor Singer’s son. I heard rumors that Cornsilk had been raped. It may be true. At any rate, Ravenfire grew up to hate everything his parents stood for. He hated the katsinas. It was Ravenfire”—Stone Ghost said through a long exhalation—“who betrayed Night Sun to the Made People.”
Stunned, Browser murmured, “When did this happen, Uncle?”
“Oh, she was around sixty summers at the time. The great war had just begun.”
Browser blinked at the ground. “You are telling me, that I am related to the great Matron of Talon Town? The Blessed Night Sun was—”
“—Your great-great-great-grandmother, yes.”
Browser glanced over his shoulder and swallowed hard, before he whispered, “I am one of the First People?”
“We
are, Nephew.”
Browser shook his head as though refusing to believe it. In a strained voice, he asked, “Gods, why are we alive?”
“Well, you were lucky. Your family forced you to marry Ash Girl. She was one of the First People.”
“She was …” He seemed to run out of air halfway through the sentence. “Why did no one tell me?”
Stone Ghost shrugged. “If you had known, it would have been dangerous for you. My sister, Painted Turtle, decided it would be better for everyone concerned if her grandchildren never knew the truth.” He touched his chin. “That’s why you did not receive this tattoo at your birth, Nephew.”
“That’s the same tattoo the mummy—”
“Yes,” Stone Ghost sighed, and his wrinkles deepened. “I’m afraid I know who the mummy is and why she was hung at Aspen village.”
“Who? Why?”
“The Blessed Night Sun.”
Browser looked as if he’d been gutted. “That’s why our Matron struggled so hard to keep the Katsina religion alive? She was related to Night Sun?”
“Well,” he tilted his head. “Not exactly. I mean, yes, she was. But because she was Ravenfire’s daughter. My grandmother told me that he had brought her up to hate everything about the katsinas. That’s why Spider Silk divorced him and ran away. Ravenfire kept their son, Bear Dancer, and I heard that Ravenfire remarried a woman from the Green Mesa clans. I think at the end of her life, Spider Silk was trying very hard to …”
“Dear gods,” Browser whispered. “That’s what Obsidian meant when she said that the turquoise wolf meant I was ‘suitable.’” He shook his fists. “That’s what Two Hearts meant when he asked me to join them!”
Stone Ghost nodded. “That is also why they didn’t kill you at Aspen village, Nephew. There are so few of us now that they must be cautious who they punish by death.”
Browser’s gaze suddenly darted over Stone Ghost’s face. “What about Catkin, Uncle? Is she—is that why they didn’t kill her?”
Stone Ghost shifted on the boulder and his turkey feather cape
fell open, leaving his chest vulnerable to the cold wind. He shivered. “I truly don’t know, Nephew. Perhaps you should ask her.”
“No.” Browser shook his head. “I won’t do that.” He placed a hand on Stone Ghost’s shoulder. “Uncle, I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell me after all the summers of keeping the truth locked in your heart. I am grateful.”
“The burden is yours now, Nephew.” Stone Ghost patted his hand. “You must decide whom to tell and when.”
“I will tell no one, Uncle. The truth is too dangerous. For all of us.”
Browser shakily rose to his feet. Cloudblower had been pouring willow bark tea down him to ease his pain, but Browser seemed to be growing weaker by the instant. He squinted against the sunlight. “Is there anything else, Uncle? I came out here to find Obsidian. If I don’t do it soon, I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”
“Go, Nephew. I will wait here for you to return.”
Browser nodded. “Have you seen Obsidian?”
Stone Ghost pointed. “I saw her on the river trail a little while ago.”
Browser started to walk away, and Stone Ghost gripped his yellow sleeve to stop him. “What are you going to say to her, Nephew?”
Browser shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Be prudent. She is more than she seems.
Much
more.”
Browser squeezed Stone Ghost’s hand, nodded, and walked away.
 
A BOW SHOT AWAY, TWO EAGLES PLAYED. THE HUGE BROWN birds floated on the air currents as though weightless, tipping their wings and chasing each other.
Browser watched them dive over the cottonwoods, then soar down to the river. The scent of the water was strong today, a pungent mixture of damp earth and ash. He inhaled a breath and let it out slowly.
He found Obsidian kneeling beside the Witches’ Water Pocket, staring down as though she saw something stir far beneath the wavering reflections of autumn leaves. She had the blue hood of her cape up, shielding her face, but long strands of black hair fluttered around the hood. Her heavily ringed hands rested on her knees.
Browser’s feet crunched in the old leaves as he walked up behind her. “Do you see them?”
She hesitated. “Who?”
“The witches who are supposed to live beneath the water.”
She expelled an irritated sigh, and answered, “I see only water, War Chief.”
He crouched beside her, picked up a golden cottonwood leaf with green stripes, and twirled it in his fingers.
“You weren’t at the burial,” he said.
She turned and sunlight bathed her beautiful tear-streaked face. Her black eyes shone like the darkest of jewels. “You must wish to question me, or you wouldn’t be here. What is it?” She wiped her cheeks with her hands.

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