Read Bone Walker: Book III of the Anasazi Mysteries for Free Online Page A

had come here, to the Spirit River, where a constant supply of water was available to irrigate their cornfields. They had hoped to reestablish their control over the world in the aftermath of Night Sun’s abdication of power. They had built Dusk House square, perfectly symmetrical; though somewhat dilapidated it stood as a stolid reminder of the First People’s skills.
    The eastern building, Sunrise House, had a more irregular appearance, the construction haphazard and unbalanced. The plaster had mottled where repair patches had been slapped onto the walls. Here and there, the underlying masonry could be seen. In comparison with its western counterpart, this town—a composite of three large and one small room blocks—was crudely built out of irregular and unfinished ashlars. Beyond this cluster, higher on the ridge and facing due south, stood North House, the gateway to the northern clans and the fabled Green Mesa villages.
    As the eleven approached, a warning drum thumped and warriors gathered on the roofs, bows in their hands with arrows nocked. Other individuals converged from each side and called out to each other. Through the sporadic shouts, dogs could be heard barking.
    The leader of the eleven, a tall young man with broad shoulders, veered from the road and drew up just beyond bow shot at Sunrise House. He shifted his pack on his back and squared his shoulders. A member of the Rattlesnake Clan of the Willow Stave Moiety, people called him Gray Thunder. After twenty-two summers, he was handsome, with wide cheekbones, a firm but mobile mouth, and straight nose. It was said that he had a special gift of the tongue, that he could talk birds down from the sky. His clan had chosen their best and bravest for this dangerous task. He took note of the head that peeked around the side of the town wall and realized that a flanking party waited just out of sight, hidden by the building’s bulk. No fools, these.
    He placed hands to the sides of his mouth and took a breath, calling in an accented voice: “I am Gray Thunder. I come from the south. I am here in peace. I and my party come in search of Matron Flame Carrier and the Katsinas’ People. We have heard that they are here at Flowing Waters Town.”
    In the rear of the party, the old man propped his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. His straggling white hair flicked back and forth with the breeze.
    On the wall before them, people bent their heads together, and finally a woman dressed in a red, white, and black dress stepped up to the edge of the roof. She wore her hair piled high and pinned. To Gray Thunder’s eye, she had that look of command. Her voice confirmed it when she called: “You are not of the People. Not with that accent, Fire Dog. So, I am left to wonder, what business would a party of Fire Dogs have with Matron Flame Carrier?”
    “To whom am I speaking? Are you Flame Carrier?”
    Chuckles could be heard on the rooftops, as if this were high humor.
    The woman called back, “No, warrior of the enemy, I am Blue Corn, of the Coyote Clan, Matron of Sunrise House and its territory. You still haven’t answered my question about Flame Carrier. Why do you seek her? What do you and your warriors do in my country?”
    Blue Corn? That was bad. He had been told that Flame Carrier could be found here. Blue Corn was noted for her allegiance to the old gods, the Flute Player and the Blue God.
    “I am sent to speak with Matron Flame Carrier.” Gray Thunder shifted, pointing to the corner of the wall. “Tell your warriors to stand down. I come in peace. We wish the Matron no harm.” He smiled. “On the contrary, we would offer an alliance.”
    “What good has an alliance ever been with the Fire Dogs?”
    Gray Thunder bit off a sharp retort and spread his
arms wide. “Look about you, Matron. I see the shabby legacy of the Straight Path Nation. I have just passed through the ruins of Straight Path Canyon. The great white palaces are empty, the doorways gaping