“Look at your people, Nest Freemark. They abandon their old. They shun their sick. They cast off their children. They decry any who are different. They commit acts of unfaithfulness, betrayal, and depravity every day. They foster lies that undermine beliefs. Each small darkness breeds another. Each small incident of anger, bitterness, pettiness, and greed breeds others. A sense of futility consumes them. They feel helpless to effect even the smallest change. Their madness is of their own making, and yet they are powerless against it because they refuse to acknowledge its source. They are at war with themselves, but they do not begin to understand the nature of the battle being fought.”
He took a long, slow breath and released it. “Do even a handful among your people believe that life in this country is better now than it was twenty years ago? Do they believe that the dark things that inhabit it are less threatening? Do they feel safer in their homes and cities? Do they find honor and trust and compassion outweigh greed and deceit and disdain? Can you tell me that you do not fear for them?”
There was bleak appraisal in his dark eyes. “We do not always recognize the thing that comes to destroy us. That is the lesson of the Sinnissippi. It can appear in many different forms. Perhaps my people were destroyed by a world which demanded changes they could not make.” He shook his head slowly, as if trying to see beyond his words. “But there is reason to think’ that your people destroy themselves.”
He went silent then, staring at the girl, his eyes distant, his look impenetrable. Nest took a deep breath. “It is not that bad,” she said, trying to keep the doubt from her voice.
Two Bears smiled. “It is worse. You know that it is. You can see it everywhere, even in this park.” He glanced around, as if to find some evidence of it close at hand. Feeders were visible at the edges of the deeper shadows, but the Indian seemed oblivious of them. He looked back at Nest. “Your people risk the fate of the Sinnissippi. Come to the summoning tomorrow at midnight and judge for yourself. Perhaps the spirits of the dead will speak of it. If they do not, then perhaps I am just another Indian with too much firewater in his body.”
“You’re not that,” Nest said quickly, not certain at the same time just exactly what he was.
“Will you come?” he pressed.
She nodded. “Okay.”
Two Bears rose, a hulking figure amid the shadows. “The Fourth of July approaches,” he said softly. “Independence Day. The birth of your nation, of the United States of America.” He nodded. “My nation, too, though I am Sinnissippi. I was born to her. My dreams were nurtured by her. I fought for her in Vietnam. My people are buried in her soil. She is my home, whatever name she bears. So I suppose that I am right to be interested in her fate.”
He picked up his knapsack and his bedroll and slung them over his shoulder. “Tomorrow night, little bird’s Nest,” he repeated.
She nodded in response. “At midnight, O’olish Amaneh.”
He gave her a brief, tight-lipped smile. “Tell your little friend he can come out from under the picnic table now.”
Then he turned into the darkness and strode silently away.
SATURDAY, JULY 2
CHAPTER 9
The Knight of the Word rode into Hopewell on the nine-fifteen out of Chicago and not one of the passengers who rode with him had any idea who he was. He wore no armor and carried no sword, and the only charger he could afford was this Greyhound bus. He looked to be an ordinary man save for the pronounced limp and the strange, haunted look that reflected in his pale green eyes. He was a bit stooped for thirty-eight years of age, a little weathered for being not yet forty. He was of average height and weight, rather lean, almost gaunt when seen from certain angles. His face was unremarkable. He was the kid who cut your lawn all through high school grown up and approaching middle age. His lank brown hair was combed straight back from his high forehead, cut shoulder-length and tied back with a rolled bandanna. He wore jeans, a blue denim work shirt, and high-top walking shoes that were scuffed and worn, the laces knotted in more than one place.