She crossed the largest ocean, abandoning Te Tsung and silk roads, pharaohs and Heliopolis. The Phoenix found herself first in a land of mountains, then in a flat country, and then in the home of rolling hills cut by the widest river sheíd ever seen. She took perch there.
She had a commanding view from a bluff in a straight-limbed hornbeam, on a top branch, surrounded by eagles. The great birds turned spirals above the brown water and staked claim on driftwood. She was enjoying the vigil for a change of season here when a small sound reached her from the other shore. That canít be a gyrfalcon, she thought. Weíre too far south. She heard it again, a cry to pierce the soul. No mistaking it this time. Catapulting herself from the tree, the Phoenix crossed the river fast as a deer leaping a stream
In no time she reached a human city much as many sheíd seen recently, but largerócone-shaped huts with great plumes of smoke pouring from them into the frosty air, large earthworks capped with wooden shelters, all held by a sharp-planked fence. And in the center a basket-weave cage full of noisy, snow-white birds.
The Phoenix saw this as she flew circuits around the city. Then she discovered a small clutch of people, all holding large baskets, standing at a break in the stockade fence. They clustered around a young man passing out pumpkins, butternut squash, and other such winter fare. They touched him like pilgrims seeking blessing. No one turned to look as the great bird spiraled down, coming to earth some yards away.
She gave herself a human form. She was a young woman in a red and gold feathered cloak, and she wore a carved bird mask over her face. When she came close, the young man distributing food raised a hand, and all those gathered around him placed their baskets on their heads and took paths away from the city, chatting and hugging cloaks around themselves. He was alone when she reached him. His face was heavily tattooed, and large bronze globes hung from his ears, but his eyes were brilliant as black diamonds. His eyes made her think of Te Tsung.
ìI have come to train for the winter dance,î she lied.
He moved his head to say ìno,î eyes locked on hers in the carved face. ìI saw you. You fell from the sky.î
ìThen that is what I did.î
ìCan you tell me who you are? I know of a Birdman, but no birdwomen.î
ìIt is all right to ask. I am the daughter of the Sun.î
He said, ìAnd I am the chief of this city. My name is not something I may share.î
He led her into the city. Everywhere there were clusters of huts thatched with prairie grass. There was one woman repairing her hutís entrance. As the chief approached she stopped and threw herself to the ground before him. He, in turn, knelt by her side and cupped his hands on her hair, again like a blessing. The woman rose and touched his hands, then went back to her work.
Once the chief and the Phoenix had gone further, he said, ìIt is little enough for me to do, but it means much to them.î
ìReaching out like that?î
ìYes. My fatheróhe ruled this city as a hard man. No one could look at his face and live.î He stopped, leaned down and pinched a bit of cold earth from the ground, crumbling it in his fingers. Then he continued in the voice of a speech-maker, ìI saw how he was feared, even hated, and everyone worked slow for him. When I became chief, I gave out twice as much food. I learned the faces of all I met. And I told them, when they brought earth to the mounds, the more they brought the more the mounds belonged to them, not to me. Now I rule thousands, and look how the temple touches the sky!î
They were standing in front of it now, and it was magnificentóa great earthwork with a base as wide as the Great Pyramid in the Pharaohís land, terracing upward to a flat plateau, on which stood a large wooden buildingóthe temple.
ìWe were not given mountains on our land,î the chief was saying. ìOne of my ancestors had a visionóthe Birdman told him we were to make our own. No better way to commune with the sky.î
ìSpeaking of birds,î the Phoenix said, turning toward the basket cage next to them on the plaza.
The chief went to the cage and took a large cloth from its side. ìArenít they beautiful?î he said. ìThey came at great cost from the people in the north. See this.î He unfurled the cloth with a snap and let it fall to the ground. It was a heavy cloak, cut in the shape of a bird, almost entirely covered with white feathers. ìIt is to be my wedding cloak. Itís nearly finished. My birds do not part with their feathers easily.î
ìPlease free them,î the Phoenix said softly.
ìWhat? I canít do that.î
ìI can ask you to do it, and then I can command you.î
His words took on a formal tone. ìYou want the cage open? I give the task to you, Sun-daughter. It is not my will that they should be free, so it is not my duty to do.î
ìAll right.î She swept the tips of her fingers over the roof of the cage, but when they touched the wood they were not fingers, they were flames. The gyrfalcons shrieked and beat the sides of the prison with their wings. The fire went out when the Phoenix raised her hand, leaving a sizable gash in the structure. The birds pushed and shoved until they were all through.