Read Online People of the Morning Star by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O’Neal Gear - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O’Neal Gear
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spasmed. The young woman jerked upright, eyes popping open. Blue Heron stepped back, a hand held up reflexively.
Night Shadow Star’s head turned, her wide dark eyes gleaming in a feral, catlike manner. In a sibilant voice that wasn’t Night Shadow Star’s she said, “You’re too late, old woman. The bargain is made.”
Blue Heron could barely breathe. Finally she managed to croak, “Mud and slime! Niece? Was that really you?”
But beautiful Night Shadow Star had collapsed onto her back, hair spilled in an inky swirl. Her high breasts continued to rise and fall as if her lungs were starved for air. The dark triangle of her pubic hair vanished as she crossed her legs and writhed.
Blue Heron staggered back, stumbled through the main room and out into the reassuring light of day. To Smooth Pebble, she called, “Quick. Fetch Rides-the-Lightning. We need the earth clans’ priest here now! Run! ”
The Spider
Everything in Creation is related. I have spent years in careful study of the world around me. Some thought me mad as I crawled around the forest floor, my eyes even with the leaf mat. The fools had no idea what I was learning. Mostly I watched the spiders as they hunted each other.
Killing another spider, you see, is a most dangerous and deadly game. And some play it better than others. Will you eat, or be eaten?
The successful ones were those who blended with the background, becoming essentially invisible, patient, and cunning. A spider who looked like but another bit of forest duff would remain motionless, undetected as his prey passed heedless within a finger’s breadth. Only when the hunted had passed, its fangs sheathed, and believing itself safe, did the hidden hunter pounce.
You see, the spider who hunts other spiders must strike from concealment. He must act when least expected, and attack from an unanticipated direction. His first bite must be lethal.
But the most important rule of all: the victim, just as agile and venomous, must never know it is being hunted.
I smile crookedly as I watch the Four Winds Clan Keeper’s litter-chair approach. The ornate seat is borne upon the shoulders of strong young men. And following is Blue Heron’s retinue: Old Smooth Pebble, Notched Cane, Two Beads, and her longtime guards, Clay Bell and Fire Temper.
For an instant, nothing seems to have changed. The intervening years might not have passed, perhaps being nothing more than a bizarre dream or vision spun of my imagination.
And then reality snaps back with the clarity and impact of a striking stone maul. I feel the rage. Injustice and pain flood back into me.
Careful. In this moment, at this place, you are hunting another spider—and perhaps the most dangerous of them all!
The crowd milling at the base of the Morning Star’s black-sided mound parts for Keeper Blue Heron; people are touching their foreheads and respectfully bowing.
Once more the hunting spider that I am, I, too, act with humility. Carefully I force the hunger from my gaze, replacing it with worshipful respect lest her eyes accidently meet mine. I am becoming one with the forest litter, my true nature must freeze, still and invisible to my prey.
Blue Heron is lowered to the ground before the sloping ramp that leads up to the first walled terrace of the Morning Star’s great pyramid. Her servants offer a hand and help the Keeper to her feet. Her two guards watch with bored eyes—a fact that makes me smile in anticipation.
The great Avenue of the Sun that runs east-west at the base of the mound is crowded, and I move through the dullards, drawing only the attention my disguise should warrant. The usual collection of Traders, food vendors, and trinket-barterers display their wares. A number of previously emptied litters have been placed out of the way. Their carriers are seated where the mound’s sloping sides meet the avenue in a sharp angle. The black clay here has been smoothed to a perfect crease, and though the lounging
Night Shadow Star’s head turned, her wide dark eyes gleaming in a feral, catlike manner. In a sibilant voice that wasn’t Night Shadow Star’s she said, “You’re too late, old woman. The bargain is made.”
Blue Heron could barely breathe. Finally she managed to croak, “Mud and slime! Niece? Was that really you?”
But beautiful Night Shadow Star had collapsed onto her back, hair spilled in an inky swirl. Her high breasts continued to rise and fall as if her lungs were starved for air. The dark triangle of her pubic hair vanished as she crossed her legs and writhed.
Blue Heron staggered back, stumbled through the main room and out into the reassuring light of day. To Smooth Pebble, she called, “Quick. Fetch Rides-the-Lightning. We need the earth clans’ priest here now! Run! ”
The Spider
Everything in Creation is related. I have spent years in careful study of the world around me. Some thought me mad as I crawled around the forest floor, my eyes even with the leaf mat. The fools had no idea what I was learning. Mostly I watched the spiders as they hunted each other.
Killing another spider, you see, is a most dangerous and deadly game. And some play it better than others. Will you eat, or be eaten?
The successful ones were those who blended with the background, becoming essentially invisible, patient, and cunning. A spider who looked like but another bit of forest duff would remain motionless, undetected as his prey passed heedless within a finger’s breadth. Only when the hunted had passed, its fangs sheathed, and believing itself safe, did the hidden hunter pounce.
You see, the spider who hunts other spiders must strike from concealment. He must act when least expected, and attack from an unanticipated direction. His first bite must be lethal.
But the most important rule of all: the victim, just as agile and venomous, must never know it is being hunted.
I smile crookedly as I watch the Four Winds Clan Keeper’s litter-chair approach. The ornate seat is borne upon the shoulders of strong young men. And following is Blue Heron’s retinue: Old Smooth Pebble, Notched Cane, Two Beads, and her longtime guards, Clay Bell and Fire Temper.
For an instant, nothing seems to have changed. The intervening years might not have passed, perhaps being nothing more than a bizarre dream or vision spun of my imagination.
And then reality snaps back with the clarity and impact of a striking stone maul. I feel the rage. Injustice and pain flood back into me.
Careful. In this moment, at this place, you are hunting another spider—and perhaps the most dangerous of them all!
The crowd milling at the base of the Morning Star’s black-sided mound parts for Keeper Blue Heron; people are touching their foreheads and respectfully bowing.
Once more the hunting spider that I am, I, too, act with humility. Carefully I force the hunger from my gaze, replacing it with worshipful respect lest her eyes accidently meet mine. I am becoming one with the forest litter, my true nature must freeze, still and invisible to my prey.
Blue Heron is lowered to the ground before the sloping ramp that leads up to the first walled terrace of the Morning Star’s great pyramid. Her servants offer a hand and help the Keeper to her feet. Her two guards watch with bored eyes—a fact that makes me smile in anticipation.
The great Avenue of the Sun that runs east-west at the base of the mound is crowded, and I move through the dullards, drawing only the attention my disguise should warrant. The usual collection of Traders, food vendors, and trinket-barterers display their wares. A number of previously emptied litters have been placed out of the way. Their carriers are seated where the mound’s sloping sides meet the avenue in a sharp angle. The black clay here has been smoothed to a perfect crease, and though the lounging
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