Shadowbrook Part 39

"You may. I shall tell James to prepare the fleet to sail."

"For Louisbourg?"

"No, of course not for Louisbourg. You are entirely correct, sir; it is far too late to undertake a campaign against Louisbourg. We shall return to the G.o.dforsaken province of New York in the stubborn and ungrateful and barbaric American colonies. G.o.d alone knows what we'll find when we get there, but it can't be any worse that what we're leaving behind."

LEAF FALLING MOON, THE NINTH SUN THE VILLAGE OF SINGING SNOW.

"We have waited long to see you, my bridge person son."

"I have been far away, Father. It took time to return to the home of my heart."

Bishkek made a sound of disgust. "Many times I am told you were seen in Quebec. It is not such a great distance between that city and this fire."

Cormac had expected the reproach. He could not tell his manhood father that he had been as far south as Carolina looking for a white woman. "I found the hawk, Father. The one in my dream. At least I think it was that one."

"It is not likely that you will have been sent to look for two hawks. So?"

Corm shook his head. "He told me many things, but I still do not know who the white bear is. Kwashko says it is him, but-"

"My other whiteface son is a red bear, is he not? Has his hair turned white since I saw him?"

"No, Father. He is still Uko Nyakwai. That is why ... But even if he is correct, I do not know if the threat to the little birds is finished."

"Red Bear," Bishkek muttered. "Disgusting name." They squatted near a cooking pot suspended over a fire tended by one of Bishkek's many daughters. "Wisnawen," the old man demanded, "yawukne?" The squaw shook her head. The food was not yet ready. Bishkek stood. "Come, we must go to see someone."

"Who?"

"The squaw priest."

"The one who nearly stabbed me?"

"Nearly is not important. The flint did not go into your heart, did it?"

"No but-"

There was no wind, but an unseasonably biting cold. Bishkek pulled the blanket he wore closer around his shoulders. "Come. Otherwise by the time we return the food will be cold."

They began walking. Bishkek looked up at the sky. It was gray and heavy. "Pkon," he muttered. "Nagic." Snow soon. "My bridge person son must not be here when the snow comes."

"Leaf Falling is too early for snow."

"Perhaps the clouds do not know which moon it is. Perhaps they do not care. Tomorrow or the next day it will snow. You must leave before the first flakes come."

"You always say that. But I am not a squaw or a child. It does not matter if it snows. If I want to leave, I can still-"

"Be quiet. Do you think you are the only one who has dreams?"

They had walked as far as the dome-shaped wickiup the village had erected for Shabnokis the Mide squaw priest. Having her near Singing Snow was a good thing; not having her actually living among them was even better. Everyone knew that the priests of the Midewiwin often caused trouble.

There was no sign of Shabnokis, but they could hear her chanting. "Wa hi, hi, hi. Haya, haya."

"She is praying," Corm said. "Better we go away and come back tomorrow." He wasn't sure why the thought of another session with Shabnokis was so unpleasant, only that it was.

"I already told you, you must leave tomorrow."

"Yes, before the snow." Corm's tone made it obvious how unlikely he thought that to be. "But the priest is busy. She won't like it if we-"

"She chants because she knows we're here. So we'll be impressed with how holy she is. Praying all the time even when no one is around." Bishkek cupped his hands around his mouth. "Ho! Jebye. Kteshyamin." We have come.

The chant stopped and the blanket that covered the door of the wickiup was pushed aside. Shabnokis looked older than Corm remembered her. Her hair was entirely white and she wore it in two plaits that hung over her shoulders. "Why do you make so much noise? I knew you were coming and I know you are here. I was praying for that one, the scar-face." She jerked her head in Corm's direction, but spoke of him as if he were not present. "He needs prayers."

Bishkek's look darkened. "Then make many prayers. As many as he needs." Ayi! Just like the Midewiwin. Always reminding you how important they were. And impossible to know when they spoke the truth and when they were only boasting. Still, better to be sure. "Many prayers," he repeated. "I will send an elkskin tomorrow. It will snow soon. You will need it."

Shabnokis c.o.c.ked her head at the gray sky. "Leaf Falling is too early for snow."

So, she did not know as much as he did. Nonetheless. "I did not come here to talk about the weather. Tell my son what you told me."

Shabnokis shrugged. "I have told you and the others many things. Besides, I am old and I forget much."

"Two elkskins," Bishkek promised.

"Father, I don't-"

"Be quiet. I brought you here to listen, not to talk."

Shabnokis came toward them. "Good skins," she said. "Not shabby with half the fur gone."

"The best," Bishkek a.s.sured her.

The squaw priest squatted on the ground and motioned the two men to join her. Corm tried to keep his distance, but Bishkek pushed him closer. The woman wore a buckskin s.h.i.+rt much like that of a coureur de bois. The laces that closed the neck were not done up and he could see the wrinkled skin of the flat place above her drooping b.r.e.a.s.t.s. No whole-skin otter bag. Maybe she left it in the wickiup because she knew this wasn't a ceremonial visit. Meaning Bishkek must have arranged everything ahead of time. Which was a little odd since Corm had arrived in Singing Snow without warning and not more than an hour earlier.

"A priest of my lodge, a Miami, died in Thunder Moon. Before the Telling," Shabnokis said. Corm realized he had lately been too long and too steadily among the Cmokmanuk He automatically translated that to two months ago, early July. "I was among those who attended his ending."

The squaw priest closed her eyes and began humming softly to herself. "Wa, hi, hi, hi. It was a bad ending," she whispered. "He died slowly, with his belly on fire. Before the spirit left him he kept repeating the same thing. Papankamwa, esipana, ayaapia, anseepikwa, eeyeelia, pileewa."

"Those are Miami words," Bishkek supplied.

"I know." Corm looked from his manhood father to the squaw priest. She had just repeated the Miami names for rac.o.o.n, elk buck, spider, fox, possum, and turkey, the symbols carved on the Suckauhock It was not possible that Bishkek could have told her those things. For one thing he would never betray Cormac. Never. For another, he didn't have the information. Bishkek had always refused to look at the Suki beads. Corm's heart began hammering in his chest. "This priest who died, was he named Takito?" Genevieve Lydius's priest, who'd put Cormac to sleep for three days and nearly got him killed.

"No, I told you before. The one called Takito is not from my lodge. I would never be at his ending. This one was-" Shabnokis broke off. "He is not yet dead six moons. I cannot speak his name. It is anyway not important. Eehsipana, ayaapia-"

"You already told me the six animal names. What else did he say?"

Bishkek made a sound of disapproval. "Cmokman," he muttered softly under his breath, hoping Cormac would be reminded that he was acting white, not showing proper respect. Then, louder so the squaw priest would be sure to hear, "Two elkskins, remember. The very best."

Shabnokis shrugged. She would allow the scar-face's impertinence to pa.s.s, at least this time. "The fire in the dying priest's belly," she said, "it came from two things. One was the evil spirit who was slowly taking away his life. It was so big a spirit that his belly stuck out this much." She used her hands to indicate a great swelling. "The other was from the shame of making a bargain with a Cmokman dog t.u.r.d priest and not keeping his word."

Ayi! Finally some information he could use, though Corm was pretty sure he could guess the rest of the story. "What bargain?"

The squaw priest grunted to show her disapproval of yet another interruption, then continued. "A long time ago the priest of my lodge went to Quebec. He met with a dog t.u.r.d priest and told him that the Miami chief Memetosia was in Albany at a powwow with the other tribe, the English Cmokmanuk"

That meant the Mide and Christian priests had met in 1754, the same year Memetosia gave him the Suckauhock. Corm's chest roiled and his heart thudded against his ribs. "You said they made an agreement. What-"

Shabnokis turned to Bishkek. "Did you never teach this one any manners?"

"Comamden ezhawepsiyan." He can't help being as he is. "Three elkskins." Then, so she wouldn't think he made too easy a bargain: "Small ones."

"Big," she corrected.

"If big, only two."

For a moment it seemed she would continue to haggle, then Shabnokis waved her hand to dismiss the discussion. "Two big," she agreed. "When he was in Quebec the Mide priest promised the dog t.u.r.d he would get him something rare, something that would make many Anis.h.i.+nabeg do his will. He said so when he was dying. We all heard it. Next he told how he had tried to keep his word, but he couldn't do it. The brave he sent to get the thing he had promised never returned. Even though the priest of my lodge had told the brave that a terrible curse would be on him and his family if he did not."

"He couldn't return," Corm said quietly. "I took his scalp and left his body in the river to feed the fish."

Shabnokis nodded. "So the spirits told me. That is why I repeated this thing to your manhood father."

"Two more questions," Corm said. Bishkek sighed, but Shabnokis did not demand any more elkskins. "This Mide priest," Corm asked, "the one who died, what did the Cmokman priest give him in return? Why would he agree to betray the Anis.h.i.+nabeg in this way?"

"For money. To buy firewater." She turned her head and spat on the ground. "He could not live without firewater. And that is what made an evil spirit come into his belly and grow it out to here." This time her hands made the swelling even bigger.

"Ahaw." Corm had no difficulty believing that a man could need alcohol more than he needed life or honor. He had seen such things before, and not just among Indians. "Do you know the name of the priest?"

"I told you, he is not dead six moons. I cannot-"

"Not him. The Cmokman." It had to be the one they called Pere Antoine. Philippe Faucon had told him that the Franciscan was some kind of spy for the English.

Shabnokis shook her head. "I never heard his name. I know only that he was a black robe and-"

"No, a brown robe! It must be a brown robe!"

"Do you think I have so many elkskins that you can be as rude as you wish?" Bishkek exploded.

"Stop berating him," Shabnokis said. "It is as you said. He cannot help being as he is. There is too much white in him to change."

Corm leaned forward, making sure she could see into his eyes. "My heart"-he put his hand over his chest-"my heart is Anis.h.i.+nabeg All that I do is for the good of the Real People."

"Ahaw," the squaw priest agreed softly. "I know. That is what the spirits say. But the dog t.u.r.d who made the bargain with the priest from my lodge was a black robe. The highest of the black robes. I cannot change the truth to make it what you want to hear."

Corm started to get up. He needed to be alone, to think through this information. "Thank you. I will-"

"Wait. There is something else."

"What else?"

"Only two elkskins," Bishkek warned. "Big ones, but only two."

"Two," Shabnokis confirmed. "Anyway, this is for your bridge person son. The spirits have told me to tell him this: The one you are looking for, the squaw. She eats kokotni."

Cormac stared at her. Kokotni was alligator.

"Why do you look so black and eat so little?" Bishkek demanded. "Is my daughter's food no good in your belly?" More than half Corm's portion of dried corn stewed with venison was uneaten.

"Las.h.i.+'s food is fine, Father. My thoughts fill me up and leave no room for eating."

"A black robe, not a brown," Bishkek said softly. "This is important?"

"It means that for two years I have been watching the wrong priest."

The old man shrugged. "So now you can watch the right one. The spirits tell us things in their time, not ours. They do not make mistakes. Besides, it is good to know about the one you thought was a Huron, no? That too was something you did not know before."

"Yes. It is very good to know that. I had already figured out that when she said not all trees with red leaves were sumacs, she meant the brave might only be pretending to be a Huron, but now ... It is better to have the whole story, not just a part."

"Ahaw. The Suckauhock that Memetosia gave you, you still have it?" Bishkek nodded toward the medicine bag around Corm's neck. "I see you still have the medicine bag with the Crane People's symbols."

"Yes, but only one bead is left. Pileewa, the turkey."

"And the others?"

"I have given them away. To the chiefs of different tribes."

"And are those gifts the reason it is said that in the pays d'en haut the Anis.h.i.+nabeg will accept no more war belts from Onontio?"

"Perhaps." Las.h.i.+ had come to collect his uneaten food and she looked at him reproachfully. Corm murmured an apology.

Bishkek waited until the squaw was gone before continuing. "And is your gift the reason they have the dying-without-skin illness in the pays d'en haut? Our own people and the Nip.i.s.sing and Ottawa and Huron, they are all sick with this thing. Did the Suki beads bring them a curse?"

"Co! The beads are from our past. They are a treasure, not a curse." Corm realized that Bishkek had been puzzling over this question for some time. "The dying-without-skin disease, Father, is a white man's disease. They call it smallpox. No one knows where it comes from, but-"

"Sickness comes from the spirits. How can you be sure it was not your gift that-"

"Father, smallpox can be pa.s.sed to another person if he touches something that belonged to one who was already sick. I have heard it said that in the Fort called William Henry there were many soldiers sick with smallpox. And the Anis.h.i.+nabeg who fought there took scalps. So maybe-"

"The scalps they won, honorably, in battle, that is what gives them the dying-without-skin disease?"

"I think so. Ahaw."

Bishkek was silent for a long time. If your enemy could kill you even after he was dead and you took his scalp, what kind of a world would this be? This was the purpose of a bridge person, to explain one side to the other. Sometimes, though, he would rather not have the explanation. Some questions, he decided, are not just too big to answer, they are too big to ask. "Come, we will smoke. But not with the others yet." The men of the village had gathered around a large fire and were pa.s.sing a pipe. "Here first By ourselves."

Cormac watched the old man prepare a pipe and light it from the embers of Las.h.i.+'s cooking fire. Bishkek took the first deep puff, then pa.s.sed the pipe to him. Corm drew the fragrant smoke into his mouth, held it, then exhaled in the rings that in the past had so amused the young boys of the village. "Tell me something," Bishkek said, smiling when he saw the smoke shapes in the firelight. "What Shabnokis said about kokotni, what did she mean?"

Ayi! He should have known the old man wouldn't let that pa.s.s without comment. "I knew a woman. I have been looking for her. I think the squaw priest was trying to tell me where she is."

"This kokotni, it is a beast I have heard about, but I have never seen it."

"It is a fierce thing that lives in the rivers far south of here. I've never seen it either," Corm admitted. "Only heard stories."

"And this woman, is she a squaw or a white woman?"