People of the Masks (The First North Americans, Book 10) - Softcover

Kathleen O'Neal Gear; W. Michael Gear

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0812515617 ISBN 13: 9780812515619

Publisher: Tor Books, 1999

Synopsis

As the prophets have foretold, a child of power has been born unto the Turtle People of the Iroquois Nation. The Elders call him False Face Child, for he is the son of a powerful spirit. A living talisman, the child has inhuman eyes--black mirrors, ageless and deep--and all fear him.

All but Jumping Badger, the most powerful war leader of the Bear People. He destroys an entire village to take the boy to use as a spiritual weapon. But his triumph is short-lived. The Bear People suffer terrible visions and hear the voices of the spirits. Strange ailments and mysterious deaths take them one by one.

Though he is a seer, False Face Child is also a sad and lonely young boy named Rumbler. Twelve-year-old Wren befriends him and together they escape across the winter landscape of New York and Ontario with Jumping Badger close behind. He now fears the boy's power and seeks to kill him. Their only hope is to stay alive long enough to find Rumbler's legendary father, known only as The Disowned.

An epic journey, People of the Masks is another riveting volume in New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O'Neal Gear's North America's Forgotten Past series.

About this title

About the Author

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.

W. Michael Gear holds a master's degree in archaeology and has worked as a professional archaeologist since 1978. He is principal investigator for Wind River Archaeological Consultants.

Together they have written the North America's Forgotten Past series (People of the Morning Star, People of the Songtrail, People of the Mist, People of the Wolf, among others); and the Anasazi Mysteries series. The Gears live in Thermopolis, WY.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

One
Pale Cloud Giants sailed westward, their bellies gilded with the hues of morning. Against the sere blue winter sky, they seemed to be huge animals fleeing the newborn glare cast by Grandfather Day Maker’s face.
Silver Sparrow glanced at them, and followed their lead, heading west. The cool air carried the scents of wet earth and frozen bark. He inhaled deeply as he tramped up the frosty trail through the forest.
Huge hickory trees towered above him, their bare limbs stark. Among the branches birds flitted and sang, creating a pleasant serenade. When he reached the top of the hill, he turned to look back at the black tracery of shadows painting the forest. The filigree wavered, rushing toward him when the wind blew, then flying away before he could reach out to touch it. His knees shook badly. He’d seen fifty-three winters, and felt each one this morning. Long white hair swayed around his owlish face as he braced his feet to keep standing. Three days of fasting and praying had weakened his body, but his souls floated in euphoria, like bits of cattail down sailing on a warm autumn breeze. He started to turn back to the trail, but movement caught his eye. He squinted. Something blue flashed through the trees.
Sparrow stood quietly, waiting.
A man emerged. He wore a pack on his back, beneath his cape, and it made him look like a hunchback. Their people made a variety of winter garments: capes, heavy coats, short jackets. Each person had their own preferences.
“Oh, no,“ Sparrow whispered to himself. “Blessed ancestors, not today. Not when I so desperately need to be alone.”
Tall Blue climbed the hill. His waist-length black hair gleamed with each step. The blue designs painted around the hem of his buckskin cape flashed as he walked through the streaks of sunlight. Twenty-seven winters old, he had a long straight nose and wide mouth. He also had a reputation for valor. No doubt the reason he’d been chosen for this task.
“I am seeking a vision!” Sparrow shouted at the top of his lungs, startling the birds into silence. “I don’t care what’s happened, Blue!”
Sparrow turned and forced his rubbery legs to carry him down the trail and across a meadow, hoping to outdistance the young man dogging his steps. Voles and mice leaped through the grass at the sound of his moccasins, scurrying for cover.
Sparrow shook his head in disgust. He hadn’t the strength to engage in a lengthy conversation about anything. This had to be Dust Moon’s doing. She was forever trying to sabotage his vision quests. The worst part was, as matron of Earth Thunderer Village, she had the right.
“Elder?” Tall Blue called in a deep apologetic voice. “Wait. Please?”
Sparrow pushed his legs harder, crunching over frozen leaves.
“Go home, Blue!”
Tall Blue spread his arms, as if helpless to comply.
Legs wobbling, Sparrow went to a fallen log and slumped down atop it, yelling, “The Spirits are watching you, Tall Blue. Do you know this? They are watching and saying, ‘Look at that young war leader annoying his elders. What shall we do with him?’”
Tall Blue smiled. Sparrow had said similar words to him many times when Tall Blue had been a gangly growing boy.
“I am not here of my own choice, Elder. You must know this.”
“Yes, of course. But for the sake of your great-grandmother’s ghost, Blue, you also know I need to be alone! Why did you allow Dust Moon to bully you into coming?”
“Patron Buffalo Skull also asked me to speak with you, Elder.”
A pinecone rested on the log a short distance away. Sparrow picked it up and threw it at the war leader. Tall Blue dodged the cone, gave Sparrow an indignant look, and continued walking.
He stopped ten paces in front of Sparrow. “Forgive me, Elder. I really do carry important news from our clan leaders.”
Sparrow folded his arms. “But mostly from Dust Moon, correct? What happened? Did she discover a boil and wishes me to come and Dance over it?”
Embarrassed by the lightness with which Sparrow took their clan matron’s wishes, Tall Blue lowered his gaze and blinked at the ground. “A passing Trader stopped and told us some terrible things.”
Sparrow heaved a breath, but didn’t answer. It was always something.
Tall Blue shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I know this is a distraction, Elder, but I must speak with you.”
Sparrow’s chest tightened. A distraction! Dust Moon must have told him that. Tall Blue would never think of something so ridiculous by himself. For the Earth Thunderer Clan, nothing was more important than seeking guidance from the Spirit World. Including impending warfare...which was surely why Tall Blue had come.
Sparrow closed his eyes, grumbled something unpleasant, then gestured to the log. “Sit down, Blue. What is it?”
Tall Blue sat down beside Sparrow, and his young face turned grim. “It’s the Walksalong Clan, Elder.”
“Of course it is. What’s Jumping Badger done now?”
For five winters, Jumping Badger, the war leader of Walksalong Village, had been terrorizing people for a moon’s walk.
“He attacked Sleeping Mist Village. At most that’s--”
“Three days’ run from here.” Sparrow knotted his fists and shook them at nothing. “And Dust Moon is afraid we will be next. Yes?”
“Yes, Elder.”
“I don’t know what she expects me to do about it, Blue. Curse them and pray they turn on each other instead of us?”
Earth Thunderer Clan was part of the Turtle Nation. Peaceful hunters and gatherers, the Turtle clans moved their small villages often, following the game, or visiting different root grounds or nut groves. Their distant relatives, the Bear Nation, saw this as a weakness. They’d started openly attacking Turtle villages, pushing the people farther and farther away from the animals and plants they needed to survive, taking the land for themselves.
The Turtle clans had to fight back. Soon. And Sparrow had to give them his best advice. He couldn’t do that until he’d spoken to his Spirit Helper. This was not a matter for human beings. They had done all they could. Only the Spirits could resolve this problem.
Tall Blue’s moccasins crunched the frozen snow at the base of the log. “Elder?” he said. “You have been in the forest for three nights. Has your Spirit Helper appeared?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No!”
The truth had been eating at him. Ordinarily his Helper came to him on the second day of questing. This was the beginning of the fourth day, and he hadn’t even--
“Matron Dust Moon said he probably hadn’t,“ Tall Blue glibly informed him. “That’s why she felt it would be all right to disturb your quest.”
Idly, Sparrow wondered what would happen if he marched into Earth Thunderer Village and bashed Dust in the head with a war club.
“So.” Tall Blue slapped his palms on his knees. “I have come to ask you to return to the village. Matron Dust Moon said that right after you’ve given words in council you can return to your quest.”
Sparrow just stared.
Dust had never undertaken a vision quest. She did not know the bitter cold that settled in the soul, or the effect that going without food or water for days had on the body. She could not even imagine the wrenching despair that consumed a Dreamer who feared he might fail.
Sparrow wet his chapped lips. They tasted of dried blood and salty tears. “Do you have any notion what Matron Dust Moon would say if you’d just brought her this message after she’d been praying and fasting for days?”
Tall Blue tilted his head. “I--”
“She’d tell you to go throw yourself off a cliff, which is what I ought to do.”
“Elder,“ Tall Blue said in exasperation. “The matron is not as horrible as you suppose.”
“Don’t tell me that.” He narrowed his eyes. “I lived with her for thirty-five winters, Blue. I knowthe twisted paths her thoughts take.”
Wind Mother whistled above Sparrow, and a shower of snowflakes fell from the trees, glittering, onto his white hair and cape. He feebly brushed at them. “You may tell my former wife that I will be home as soon as I’ve finished my quest. Not before.”
Tall Blue nodded dejectedly. “I will, of course, do as you say, Elder. I just hope she doesn’t come looking for you herself.”
Blue shrugged out of his pack and pulled it onto the log between them. As he loosened the laces and began to dig around inside, the sweet scent of roasted corn rose. “Forgive me, Elder. I’ll leave as soon as I’ve eaten. I’ve been searching for you since early yesterday.”
Sparrow’s belly groaned at the sweet aroma of corn cakes filled with roasted hickory nuts. It occurred to him that the scent was achingly familiar. He lifted a brow. “Dust Moon made those for you, didn’t she?”
“Why, yes, Elder,“ Tall Blue said around a bite. “How did you know?”
“Because they’re my favorites, that’s why.” Through gritted teeth, Sparrow said, “I swear she’s the spawn of witches.”
Tall Blue finished his first cake, and started on a second. Crumbs fell down the front of his cape.
Sparrow should have known Dust would do something like this.
Only five nights before she had arrived at his house, and announced that she’d just spoken to a runner who’d told her he’d seen Bear Nation warriors massing--as if...

About this edition

• Publisher: Tor Books
• Publication date: 1999
• ISBN 10: 0812515617
• ISBN 13: 9780812515619
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 576