The Next Skywatcher: Prequel to The Last Skywatcher Triple Trilogy Series (The Last Skywatcher, Anasazi Historical Thrillers with a Hint of Romance Book 1) by Jeff Posey Page A
Authors: Jeff Posey
Tags: fiction triple trilogy series southwestern mystery archaeology adventure, Mystery Thriller Suspense Thrillers Historical, Romance Historical Romance Ancient World, Anasazi historical romance thriller, cultures that collapse, ancient world native American love story, Literature Fiction Historical Fiction Mystery Thriller Suspense, suspense literature, mayan influence, western Colorado New Mexico mountains desert hot spring chimney rock Chaco Canyon mesa verde, revenge cannibalism
Ads: Link
because he doesn’t interfere with Tókotsi’s politics. The Owl Men and stonemasons are loyal to him. If Pók is really up to something, someone will talk to a girl and I will find out. I always do. You know that.”
“If he has anyone in his confidence. Pók keeps his mouth shut, even around the girls he beats.” Chumana still lay on her sleeping mat, staring at the smoke drifting against the ceiling.
Nuva sat the dinner bowl beside Chumana and sat on her own mat, warming her hands on the bowl of soup. She heard a soft cough from the hallway. Chumana sat up.
“They always do this,” Nuva said with a sigh. She took a sip of soup, then another, then another. “Ah,” she said. “That’s too hot to drink fast.”
“Maybe it’s news we need.”
Nuva set her bowl aside and then walked, bent low to keep her head in the freshest air, into the hallway. A single-flame lamp flickered in the corner, illuminating both directions. She crept to the edge and gripped her hand around it, showing only three fingers. A hand brushed hers. Nuva pulled her hand away. Three fingers curled around the corner and she saw three dots on the tips. She gently touched the three fingers with her own.
A voice barely above a whisper spoke from around the corner. Nuva recognized the speech of the head cook, and she listened intently, and then thanked the woman.
Nuva returned, standing normally, the room having mostly cleared of smoke. The hearth fire had died to smoldering coals again. She sat on her mat and picked up the bowl of lukewarm soup.
“Something?” Chumana asked. She had pulled on her sleeping clothes, a simple cotton shift.
“Cook said more people are about than usual, so she was as careful as a new informant. She just made three meals. Hearty ones for two exhausted archers and healing soup for a wounded man with no hair. She overhead the archers mention Black Stone Town, that all the others are dead.”
“Killed by children?”
“She didn’t say that. But the man must be Ihu. She said he ran all the way from Black Stone with arrows in his shoulders. He cannot use his arms and his cheek has been cut open. She had a helper slowly pour the soup into his mouth, and he kept gagging.”
Chumana hugged her knees and rocked. “Who did that to him? Who is killing the warriors in Black Stone Town? What’s happening?”
“She said the two archers were sullen. In shock. Not speaking.”
“They’re not used to being defeated. Especially by children. If that’s who did it.”
“Maybe other warriors from the South, enemies of the Másaw,” Nuva said.
“Maybe. But what if it’s something else?” Chumana fidgeted with her empty bowl and eating stick.
“Like what?” Nuva asked.
“What if Pók is behind it?” Chumana leaned closer to Nuva. “What if he’s using children to kill his own warriors? What if this is him making his move against The Builder and Tókotsi?”
“You are the fortuneteller. You tell me.”
Chumana gave a short laugh. “You think I’m starting to make up prophecies now for you, too?”
Nuva drained the last of the soup into her mouth, and stood. She sat her bowl beside the dying fire and collected Chumana’s bowl. “We don’t know he’s behind it,” said Nuva. “So let’s think about what we do know. Ihu just became Ráana’s top warrior. He’s not with Pók anymore.”
“We can’t count on that.” Chumana toyed with thick bluestone pieces strung on a necklace. “First a half-patrol is killed, by children , and Ihu escapes. Then all but two of a full patrol is missing, dead according to the archers, and Ihu escapes again. All in Black Stone Town, where Ráana is supposed to be the new top man. Doesn’t that sound like the hand of Pók?”
Chumana was on a roll. Nuva smiled. The girl was moody, but always did what she had to do. Usually well. It’s good to see her engaged, Nuva thought.
“But that’s not all,” said Chumana, raising her hand for emphasis. “Pók sent
“If he has anyone in his confidence. Pók keeps his mouth shut, even around the girls he beats.” Chumana still lay on her sleeping mat, staring at the smoke drifting against the ceiling.
Nuva sat the dinner bowl beside Chumana and sat on her own mat, warming her hands on the bowl of soup. She heard a soft cough from the hallway. Chumana sat up.
“They always do this,” Nuva said with a sigh. She took a sip of soup, then another, then another. “Ah,” she said. “That’s too hot to drink fast.”
“Maybe it’s news we need.”
Nuva set her bowl aside and then walked, bent low to keep her head in the freshest air, into the hallway. A single-flame lamp flickered in the corner, illuminating both directions. She crept to the edge and gripped her hand around it, showing only three fingers. A hand brushed hers. Nuva pulled her hand away. Three fingers curled around the corner and she saw three dots on the tips. She gently touched the three fingers with her own.
A voice barely above a whisper spoke from around the corner. Nuva recognized the speech of the head cook, and she listened intently, and then thanked the woman.
Nuva returned, standing normally, the room having mostly cleared of smoke. The hearth fire had died to smoldering coals again. She sat on her mat and picked up the bowl of lukewarm soup.
“Something?” Chumana asked. She had pulled on her sleeping clothes, a simple cotton shift.
“Cook said more people are about than usual, so she was as careful as a new informant. She just made three meals. Hearty ones for two exhausted archers and healing soup for a wounded man with no hair. She overhead the archers mention Black Stone Town, that all the others are dead.”
“Killed by children?”
“She didn’t say that. But the man must be Ihu. She said he ran all the way from Black Stone with arrows in his shoulders. He cannot use his arms and his cheek has been cut open. She had a helper slowly pour the soup into his mouth, and he kept gagging.”
Chumana hugged her knees and rocked. “Who did that to him? Who is killing the warriors in Black Stone Town? What’s happening?”
“She said the two archers were sullen. In shock. Not speaking.”
“They’re not used to being defeated. Especially by children. If that’s who did it.”
“Maybe other warriors from the South, enemies of the Másaw,” Nuva said.
“Maybe. But what if it’s something else?” Chumana fidgeted with her empty bowl and eating stick.
“Like what?” Nuva asked.
“What if Pók is behind it?” Chumana leaned closer to Nuva. “What if he’s using children to kill his own warriors? What if this is him making his move against The Builder and Tókotsi?”
“You are the fortuneteller. You tell me.”
Chumana gave a short laugh. “You think I’m starting to make up prophecies now for you, too?”
Nuva drained the last of the soup into her mouth, and stood. She sat her bowl beside the dying fire and collected Chumana’s bowl. “We don’t know he’s behind it,” said Nuva. “So let’s think about what we do know. Ihu just became Ráana’s top warrior. He’s not with Pók anymore.”
“We can’t count on that.” Chumana toyed with thick bluestone pieces strung on a necklace. “First a half-patrol is killed, by children , and Ihu escapes. Then all but two of a full patrol is missing, dead according to the archers, and Ihu escapes again. All in Black Stone Town, where Ráana is supposed to be the new top man. Doesn’t that sound like the hand of Pók?”
Chumana was on a roll. Nuva smiled. The girl was moody, but always did what she had to do. Usually well. It’s good to see her engaged, Nuva thought.
“But that’s not all,” said Chumana, raising her hand for emphasis. “Pók sent
Similar Books
