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Sora is the wise, young High Chieftess of the Black Falcon Nation. For many winters her heart belonged to her husband, Flint, a warrior from a neighboring clan. Flint truly loved Sora, but jealousy drove him to beat men to death for merely casting a longing glance at his wife. Unable to live with his murderous rage, Flint moved back to his mother's clan, divorcing Sora and leaving her forever.
Remarried and fully devoted to her duties as the High Chieftess, Sora tries to bury her memories of Flint. Then, on the eve of war with a neighboring nation, she is visited by Skinner, an old friend of Flint. Skinner tells her of Flint's death, but Sora feels that he carries part of Flint's soul inside him. When Skinner reveals secrets that only Flint would know, and rouses her passion in ways only Flint had, Sora must figure out if this is the clever witchcraft of enemies who want to seize her power and destroy her nation, or the spirit of her one and only true love.
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About the Author:
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KATHLEEN O'NEAL GEAR is a former state historian and archaeologist for Wyoming, Kansas, and Nebraska for the U.S. Department of the Interior. She has twice received the federal government's Special Achievement Award for "outstanding management" of our nation's cultural heritage. With her husband, W. Michael Gear, she is the co-author of many books, including the North America's Forgotten Past series (People of the Longhouse, The Dawn Country, People of the Mist, People of the Wolf, among others); and the Anasazi Mysteries series. She and her husband live in Thermopolis, WY.
It Sleeps in Me
1SPIDERWEBS, BLOWN FREE BY THE SPRING WIND, DRIFTED across Persimmon Lake and strung glittering filaments on the sunlit oaks that ringed the seven pyramid-shaped mounds of Blackbird Town, but the people who stood in the broad plaza barely noticed. They had their gazes on the field, watching the game play out.As Chieftess Sora ran down the field after the chunkey stone, she didn't recognize War Chief Skinner, not at first. All she saw was a muscular man brushing webs from his long black hair as he walked through the shadows of the mounds. A massive chert war club hung from his belt, and he had a bow and quiver over his left shoulder. He used his spear as a walking stick.Warriors unconsciously placed their hands on belted stilettos as Skinner passed by, while women turned to stare admiringly at the stranger dressed in a war chief's raiding garb. His knee-length buckskin shirt was plain, except for the shark's teeth sewn across the front and the red buffalo-wool sash that belted his trim waist.As she neared the throwing line, Sora called, "Your cast or mine, Wink?"Fifty paces ahead of her, the chunkey stone, round and about the width of her hand, rolled like the wind."My cast!" Matron Wink shouted from her right. When her foot hit the casting line, she launched her spear. Thirty-six winters had passed since Wink's birth. More gray than black shimmered in her long braid, and wrinkles incised laugh lines around her ample mouth. Her given name, the name bestowed upon her at her initiation in the woman's house, was Marsh Wren, but she'd had a bad habit of winking at people. The nickname had stuck like boiled pine pitch.Wink's spear arced upward, and hundreds of onlookers made awed sounds. One of the opposing headmen reached the casting line and hurled his spear. For a deadly serious game, the rules of chunkey were relatively simple. Whoever hit the stone earned two points. Whoever's spear landed closest to the stone earned one point. They played three games, each to a score of six.Sora slowed to watch the two spears sailing toward the rolling chunkey stone. Her white dress, made from combed palmetto threads, fluttered in the wind.Wink stopped beside Sora, breathing hard. Though Sora was four winters younger, they'd been friends since childhood. While Sora had ascended to the chieftainship, Wink had become matron of their Shadow Rock Clan. They both wore elaborately incised copper breastplates that signified their status. Sometimes she thought she knew Wink better than she knew herself. The reverse was certainly true."That's Chief Short Tail's spear right behind yours," Sora said.Wink glanced at Short Tail and Pocket Mouse. Both chiefs wore red knee-length shirts decorated with shells from the far western ocean. "I know. I saw the moron cast."Sora suppressed a smile. Wink's candor was legendary--though few people appreciated it. In fact, most of the other matrons and chiefs heartily disliked her because of it.Wink groaned when the heavy stone slowed and fell onto itsside just before the spears landed. Almost at the same time, her spear lodged in the ground a good pace from the stone. Chief Short Tail's spear landed ahead, but it looked to be about the same distance away."Oh, gods, what do you think?" Wink asked."I can't tell."As the judges trotted out to see who had scored, Sora's heartbeat quickened and her head grew light. People shoved to the very edge of the field, trying to get a better look.Sora whispered, "If you scored, we win, and it's over. If not ...""If not"--Wink inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a rush--"we have one more cast to stop a war that will surely destroy our people."One of the judges, old Club-in-His-Hand, pulled a coil of twine from his belt. The other judge, the young warrior Far Eye, held the end of the cord against the stone while Club-in-His-Hand extended it out to Short Tail's spear point. They made an odd pair. Club-in-His-Hand was short, with a full head of gray hair, while Far Eye was tall and lean. Tattoos covered every part of his body. His long black hair hung to the middle of his back. Wink called him her nephew, though that wasn't technically true. Wink's brother had married a woman from the Water Hickory Clan, and since the Black Falcon Nation traced descent through the female, that meant Far Eye was really Water Hickory Clan, not Shadow Rock Clan. But Wink loved the youth as if he were her own nephew.Hisses of disapproval went up from Sora's side as the judges lifted the twine for the audience to see the measurement. Short Tail's people remained silent, gazing wide-eyed at Wink's spear. They seemed to be holding their breaths. On the sidelines, warriors marched back and forth, eyes blazing.As the judges moved to measure Wink's cast, Sora's gaze drifted around Blackbird Town.Four of the great flat-topped mounds rose directly in front of her. The largest, upon which her magnificent pitched-roof homestood, was six times the height of a man and measured one hundred paces along each side of its square base. To her left, the crystal green water of Persimmon Lake glistened. In the winter, when everyone returned from their summer farming plots, the population of Blackbird Town swelled to almost one thousand. Two hundred small houses, the homes of commoners, ringed the shore. Animal bones covered the roofs like glistening white sticks. The bones of animals caught in snares or traps were never thrown away, but respectfully hung up or placed on the roof of the hunter's house. If this ceremony was not followed, the trap would become useless because the Spirits of the animals would be offended and their relatives would refuse to allow themselves to be caught."Please, Skyholder," Wink murmured to the Creator, "for the sake of everyone, let us win.""What's taking so long?" Sora asked.Wink shook her head. "The casts are too close; they're measuring each again."Chunkey games were sacred contests where the players represented the primordial heroes of creation: the forces of Light and Dark, Peace and War, Female and Male. Villages routinely wagered everything they owned on the outcome of a game, but this was more. They played to decide a tie vote in the High Council. If Shadow Rock Clan won, there would be peace. If Water Hickory Clan won, they would be at war tomorrow. The Loon People, east of the Palmetto River, would fall like autumn leaves before the warriors of the Black Falcon Nation.Wink made a small sound of dismay just before riotous cheers went up from Short Tail's side of the field. The judges held the two lengths of cord side by side, showing that Short Tail's cast had been closer, by a finger's length, to the chunkey stone."We're tied. The next point will determine the game."Wink shook sweat-soaked strands of graying black hair away from her face. "If we're lucky Short Tail's manhood will wither and fall off before he can cast again."Sora gave her a peeved look. "Don't you think it would be more practical to wish that his hand fell off so he couldn't throw accurately, or maybe his feet, so he couldn't run so fast?""Don't be ridiculous. He has the souls of a thirteen-winters-old boy. His manhood is his entire world. Crush it and you crush him." Wink calmly straightened her enormous engraved copper breastplate; it gleamed against her white dress. She gestured to Short Tail. "Look at him. Can you believe that man has seen thirty-eight winters?"Chief Short Tail jumped up and down like an exultant child, slapping his teammate, Chief Pocket Mouse, on the shoulder and whooping, much to the delight of his kinspeople, who roared their approval.Club-in-His-Hand trotted down the field with the chunkey stone and gave it to Sora."It's your roll, Chieftess," he whispered, and desperately glanced around. "Make it a good one."Sora nodded. "I'd better."She and Wink marched back to the starting line. While she waited for Short Tail and Pocket Mouse to finish their conversations, Sora's gaze moved down the field to where her husband, Rockfish, stood. He had been very handsome in his early days, tall and slender, with a triangular face and large dark eyes, but he'd started to show his sixty winters. His hair had gone completely gray, and his muscles had evaporated. Though he still carried out most of his husbandly duties--hunting, fishing, and advising her on clan matters--each was becoming more difficult for him. Their marriage had been one of convenience, an alliance of political advantage, but she genuinely cared for him. It worried her that his strength had begun to fail.They'd married three winters ago, after her first husband, Flint, set her belongings outside the door and headed home to his mother's village. The divorce had disgraced Sora. Not only that, she'd loved Flint. She'd made a fool of herself, running after him,begging him to return. When he'd shoved her away, she'd been consumed by despair. The simplest daily tasks, getting dressed or making a pot of tea, had seemed overwhelming.In response, her mother, High Chieftess Yellow Cypress, had selected Rockfish as her new husband. He came from a renowned family of Traders who lived far to the north. It had been a good choice--for both of them. Since her mother had no sons, and the chieftainship was a hereditary position destined for the eldest daughter, Sora had become chieftess after her mother's death two winters ago. What she gave Rockfish in prestige, he gave her in Trade goods. The day of their joining, a flotilla of canoes had appeared, filled to overflowing with rare cherts and mica, silver nuggets, pounded sheets of copper--and the Trade goods had never stopped coming. Every moon, another flotilla arrived. Rockfish was much older than she and knew things about people that she did not. Sora was often d...
1SPIDERWEBS, BLOWN FREE BY THE SPRING WIND, DRIFTED across Persimmon Lake and strung glittering filaments on the sunlit oaks that ringed the seven pyramid-shaped mounds of Blackbird Town, but the people who stood in the broad plaza barely noticed. They had their gazes on the field, watching the game play out.As Chieftess Sora ran down the field after the chunkey stone, she didn't recognize War Chief Skinner, not at first. All she saw was a muscular man brushing webs from his long black hair as he walked through the shadows of the mounds. A massive chert war club hung from his belt, and he had a bow and quiver over his left shoulder. He used his spear as a walking stick.Warriors unconsciously placed their hands on belted stilettos as Skinner passed by, while women turned to stare admiringly at the stranger dressed in a war chief's raiding garb. His knee-length buckskin shirt was plain, except for the shark's teeth sewn across the front and the red buffalo-wool sash that belted his trim waist.As she neared the throwing line, Sora called, "Your cast or mine, Wink?"Fifty paces ahead of her, the chunkey stone, round and about the width of her hand, rolled like the wind."My cast!" Matron Wink shouted from her right. When her foot hit the casting line, she launched her spear. Thirty-six winters had passed since Wink's birth. More gray than black shimmered in her long braid, and wrinkles incised laugh lines around her ample mouth. Her given name, the name bestowed upon her at her initiation in the woman's house, was Marsh Wren, but she'd had a bad habit of winking at people. The nickname had stuck like boiled pine pitch.Wink's spear arced upward, and hundreds of onlookers made awed sounds. One of the opposing headmen reached the casting line and hurled his spear. For a deadly serious game, the rules of chunkey were relatively simple. Whoever hit the stone earned two points. Whoever's spear landed closest to the stone earned one point. They played three games, each to a score of six.Sora slowed to watch the two spears sailing toward the rolling chunkey stone. Her white dress, made from combed palmetto threads, fluttered in the wind.Wink stopped beside Sora, breathing hard. Though Sora was four winters younger, they'd been friends since childhood. While Sora had ascended to the chieftainship, Wink had become matron of their Shadow Rock Clan. They both wore elaborately incised copper breastplates that signified their status. Sometimes she thought she knew Wink better than she knew herself. The reverse was certainly true."That's Chief Short Tail's spear right behind yours," Sora said.Wink glanced at Short Tail and Pocket Mouse. Both chiefs wore red knee-length shirts decorated with shells from the far western ocean. "I know. I saw the moron cast."Sora suppressed a smile. Wink's candor was legendary--though few people appreciated it. In fact, most of the other matrons and chiefs heartily disliked her because of it.Wink groaned when the heavy stone slowed and fell onto itsside just before the spears landed. Almost at the same time, her spear lodged in the ground a good pace from the stone. Chief Short Tail's spear landed ahead, but it looked to be about the same distance away."Oh, gods, what do you think?" Wink asked."I can't tell."As the judges trotted out to see who had scored, Sora's heartbeat quickened and her head grew light. People shoved to the very edge of the field, trying to get a better look.Sora whispered, "If you scored, we win, and it's over. If not ...""If not"--Wink inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a rush--"we have one more cast to stop a war that will surely destroy our people."One of the judges, old Club-in-His-Hand, pulled a coil of twine from his belt. The other judge, the young warrior Far Eye, held the end of the cord against the stone while Club-in-His-Hand extended it out to Short Tail's spear point. They made an odd pair. Club-in-His-Hand was short, with a full head of gray hair, while Far Eye was tall and lean. Tattoos covered every part of his body. His long black hair hung to the middle of his back. Wink called him her nephew, though that wasn't technically true. Wink's brother had married a woman from the Water Hickory Clan, and since the Black Falcon Nation traced descent through the female, that meant Far Eye was really Water Hickory Clan, not Shadow Rock Clan. But Wink loved the youth as if he were her own nephew.Hisses of disapproval went up from Sora's side as the judges lifted the twine for the audience to see the measurement. Short Tail's people remained silent, gazing wide-eyed at Wink's spear. They seemed to be holding their breaths. On the sidelines, warriors marched back and forth, eyes blazing.As the judges moved to measure Wink's cast, Sora's gaze drifted around Blackbird Town.Four of the great flat-topped mounds rose directly in front of her. The largest, upon which her magnificent pitched-roof homestood, was six times the height of a man and measured one hundred paces along each side of its square base. To her left, the crystal green water of Persimmon Lake glistened. In the winter, when everyone returned from their summer farming plots, the population of Blackbird Town swelled to almost one thousand. Two hundred small houses, the homes of commoners, ringed the shore. Animal bones covered the roofs like glistening white sticks. The bones of animals caught in snares or traps were never thrown away, but respectfully hung up or placed on the roof of the hunter's house. If this ceremony was not followed, the trap would become useless because the Spirits of the animals would be offended and their relatives would refuse to allow themselves to be caught."Please, Skyholder," Wink murmured to the Creator, "for the sake of everyone, let us win.""What's taking so long?" Sora asked.Wink shook her head. "The casts are too close; they're measuring each again."Chunkey games were sacred contests where the players represented the primordial heroes of creation: the forces of Light and Dark, Peace and War, Female and Male. Villages routinely wagered everything they owned on the outcome of a game, but this was more. They played to decide a tie vote in the High Council. If Shadow Rock Clan won, there would be peace. If Water Hickory Clan won, they would be at war tomorrow. The Loon People, east of the Palmetto River, would fall like autumn leaves before the warriors of the Black Falcon Nation.Wink made a small sound of dismay just before riotous cheers went up from Short Tail's side of the field. The judges held the two lengths of cord side by side, showing that Short Tail's cast had been closer, by a finger's length, to the chunkey stone."We're tied. The next point will determine the game."Wink shook sweat-soaked strands of graying black hair away from her face. "If we're lucky Short Tail's manhood will wither and fall off before he can cast again."Sora gave her a peeved look. "Don't you think it would be more practical to wish that his hand fell off so he couldn't throw accurately, or maybe his feet, so he couldn't run so fast?""Don't be ridiculous. He has the souls of a thirteen-winters-old boy. His manhood is his entire world. Crush it and you crush him." Wink calmly straightened her enormous engraved copper breastplate; it gleamed against her white dress. She gestured to Short Tail. "Look at him. Can you believe that man has seen thirty-eight winters?"Chief Short Tail jumped up and down like an exultant child, slapping his teammate, Chief Pocket Mouse, on the shoulder and whooping, much to the delight of his kinspeople, who roared their approval.Club-in-His-Hand trotted down the field with the chunkey stone and gave it to Sora."It's your roll, Chieftess," he whispered, and desperately glanced around. "Make it a good one."Sora nodded. "I'd better."She and Wink marched back to the starting line. While she waited for Short Tail and Pocket Mouse to finish their conversations, Sora's gaze moved down the field to where her husband, Rockfish, stood. He had been very handsome in his early days, tall and slender, with a triangular face and large dark eyes, but he'd started to show his sixty winters. His hair had gone completely gray, and his muscles had evaporated. Though he still carried out most of his husbandly duties--hunting, fishing, and advising her on clan matters--each was becoming more difficult for him. Their marriage had been one of convenience, an alliance of political advantage, but she genuinely cared for him. It worried her that his strength had begun to fail.They'd married three winters ago, after her first husband, Flint, set her belongings outside the door and headed home to his mother's village. The divorce had disgraced Sora. Not only that, she'd loved Flint. She'd made a fool of herself, running after him,begging him to return. When he'd shoved her away, she'd been consumed by despair. The simplest daily tasks, getting dressed or making a pot of tea, had seemed overwhelming.In response, her mother, High Chieftess Yellow Cypress, had selected Rockfish as her new husband. He came from a renowned family of Traders who lived far to the north. It had been a good choice--for both of them. Since her mother had no sons, and the chieftainship was a hereditary position destined for the eldest daughter, Sora had become chieftess after her mother's death two winters ago. What she gave Rockfish in prestige, he gave her in Trade goods. The day of their joining, a flotilla of canoes had appeared, filled to overflowing with rare cherts and mica, silver nuggets, pounded sheets of copper--and the Trade goods had never stopped coming. Every moon, another flotilla arrived. Rockfish was much older than she and knew things about people that she did not. Sora was often d...
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- PublisherTor Books
- Publication date2006
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