People of the Silence (54 page)

So that he would hear, she answered loudly, “I’m much better now, thank you. It warms my heart to see you.”

“And mine to see you,” Whistling Bird said.

Before she could move to Dune, Snake Head ordered, “Come over here, Mother! Sit down.” He pointed to the floor.

“I will stand,” Night Sun said. “Ask me your questions.”

Snake Head’s mouth widened a little, but it could not have been called a smile. The coldness of the expression struck Night Sun like a blow to the stomach. How could he gaze at his own mother that way?

Night Sun lifted her chin. “Well? You have kept me imprisoned for a quarter moon. What charges do you bring against me?”

Over Snake Head’s shoulder, she saw Sternlight’s face. Ethereal. Beautiful. He might have been sitting alone on a mountaintop watching a gorgeous sunrise, rather than here. Her gaze slid to Ironwood at the foot of the staircase. Muscles bulged through his tan shirt. Sweat ran along his jaw and trickled down his throat.

He looks almost as frightened as I feel.

Snake Head ceremoniously paced in front of Night Sun, thumping his staff. The dead boy’s long hair fluttered and a trickle of liquid ran down from the punctured brain. “Is what my father said about you true?”

“Are the things people say about you true?”

Soft chuckles broke out from the elders. Each knew the rumors of Snake Head’s brutality, and even cowardice, in the face of battle.

Snake Head smiled coldly. “Did you betray my father? Did you bear
this
child”—he pointed to the severed head—“and hide him away?”

“No, and no,” Night Sun answered.

“You are calling my father, the former Blessed Sun, a liar!”

Night Sun turned to the elders. “Please, hear me. When Crow Beard lay dying, he said many things that made no sense. I think his soul was wandering in and out of his body, and he could not tell the difference between things he imagined and real memories. I—”

“You must take us for fools!” Snake Head shouted. He whirled and pointed to Sternlight. The priest gazed back calmly. “What about the things Sternlight said? He told us the boy lived at Lanceleaf Village! That you had borne a son—”

“That is not what I told you,” Sternlight murmured.

The elders went silent, waiting breathlessly.

Snake Head glared in disbelief. “You did so! I heard you! Creeper and Badgerbow heard you, too!”

“What I said,” Sternlight clarified as he walked to stand beside Night Sun, “was that the boy lived in Lanceleaf Village. I did not say Night Sun had borne the child.”

Snake Head pounded his staff into the floor like an angry child. The dead boy’s head wobbled. “Are you trying to tell me you did not mean—”

“That’s precisely what I’m telling you.”

Struggling to regain his advantage, Snake Head said, “Then … then you had me kill an innocent child! I ordered Beargrass’ son murdered because you made me think the boy was my mother’s misbegotten spawn! You
filthy
murderer!”

Night Sun clenched her hands so hard her nails dug into her palms. What game did Sternlight play? She couldn’t fathom it. He stood so still, so calm. Against the red pillar, he looked ghostly. Only his eyes moved. He glanced at each of the thlatsina masks on the walls, searching the gods’ faces as if he were listening to their voices.

The elders muttered to each other for a time, and then Moon Bright looked up.

“Is this true, Sunwatcher? Did you deceive Snake Head?”

“I did, Blessed Moon Bright,” Sternlight answered straightly. “Of that, I am guilty, and…” He drew breath and paused. “And perhaps I am also guilty of the boy’s murder.” He lifted his gaze to the severed head and anguish lined his handsome face.

A din of confused questions erupted, all of the elders talking at once.

Dune lifted a hand to still the outbursts. “Tell them why, Sternlight. It is time they knew.”

“Time we know what?” Snake Head blurted. “I can’t believe—”

“Listen, boy,” Dune said, “you
will
believe.”

Snake Head’s jaw set indignantly. He glowered at Dune, then turned to Sternlight, who stood with his head bowed, hands clasped before him in a prayerful posture. “Well, Sunwatcher? Tell us!”

Night Sun searched Sternlight’s face. He looked perfectly composed. The elders sat quietly, firelight dancing over their taut expressions.

Sternlight’s white ritual shirt swayed in the cold breeze that puffed down the stairway, and a shiver went through him before he could suppress it.

“Go on,” Dune urged.

Sternlight nodded and took a breath. He spoke slowly, clearly. “I took it upon myself to protect the Straight Path nation. I realize how presumptuous this will seem. But I did it alone. No one else is to blame.”

“You did
not
do it alone,” Dune objected. The deep wrinkles of his face rearranged themselves into gentler lines. Dune swiveled on the bench to look at the other elders. “It was my fault. I begged Crow Beard not to kill the child.”

Night Sun stood riveted.
What child? Is this some trick?

Snake Head shook his staff and the dead boy’s hair fluttered. “Tell me what you’re talking about!”

Sternlight peered soberly at Snake Head. “You did have a brother. But he was not your mother’s son. He was your father’s son.”

Like a punctured deer bladder, Snake Head deflated, breath rushing from his lungs, “What?”

“The boy Beargrass raised.”

Snake Head craned his neck to look up at the severed head. The boy’s desiccated eyes seemed to gaze back with malevolent intent. “He really was my brother?”

“Yes, and I feared he might fuel the legends of our enemies. You see, his mother was Young Fawn. Jay Bird’s daughter.”

Whistling Bird yelled, “That war-loving Mogollon Chief?” Red mottled his face. “You mean, the legends about the child born and hidden away?”

Weedblossom gasped. “The boy who would return to destroy us? Great gods! His survival could have been disastrous!”

Sternlight laced his fingers together. “I am very much aware of that.”

“But…” Weedblossom lifted a clawlike hand and held it out to Sternlight. “Why did you not simply tell us of this, Sunwatcher? Why the deception?”

Sternlight’s lips pressed into a white line. “I promised Crow Beard I would tell no one. He was ashamed of what he had done. And he knew how very dangerous it was.”

Weedblossom frowned as Dune rose to his feet. His threadbare brown shirt hung off his frame as though covering bare bones. His freckled scalp gleamed orange beneath his wispy white hair.

Night Sun had gone numb. She watched the proceedings like a battle-dazed warrior, not certain anything happening around her was real. She remembered Crow Beard standing in the plaza, touching the slave women suggestively. But more than that, she sensed that Sternlight and Ironwood played some desperate game, and they expected her to play along. Either she was their partner in this deception, or they were all dead.

“But that isn’t the whole story,” Dune said. “When Crow Beard discovered that Young Fawn carried his child, he called me in for advice.
I
am the one who asked Crow Beard to let the child live. I considered it a great gift when he said yes. But I also suggested to Crow Beard that he leave—that he find some excuse to be gone until after the child was born.”

“Why would you have asked my father to allow the boy to live?” Snake Head demanded. “That’s ridiculous. He should have been killed before birth!”

“I have never believed the Mogollon legends,” Dune said. “And I thought it more prudent to avoid the embarrassment of having to admit the Blessed Sun had lain with a Fire Dog slave. That—”

“Did you ask Crow Beard to go away for ten moons,” Night Sun’s thin voice penetrated the gloom, “out of fear of what I might do?”

Dune’s ancient head tottered in a nod. “Yes. You would certainly have divorced Crow Beard, wouldn’t you?”

Night Sun’s brows drew together. She considered the question. “Yes. I suppose I’d have had no choice.” She folded her arms tightly over her breast. “I remember seeing him flirting with the slave women. But if I’d known that it was Young Fawn he was courting, I’d have been furious—because of the legends.”

And it would have broken Cloud Playing’s heart. We forbade her to marry Webworm because of the legends, then her own father had lain with Jay Bird’s daughter!

Sternlight spread his arms to the elders and walked closer to the bench where they sat. His ritual shirt rustled softly. “And even if the Fire Dog legends are true,” Sternlight said. “Dune and I decided it would be more just to fight a man than murder an infant.”

Snake Head scoffed, “Then why did you tell me to murder him now?” He tipped his staff lower to peer into the sunken eyes.

“I had no choice,” Sternlight said softly. “It was Crow Beard’s last order.”

“It was not!” Snake Head objected. He pointed an accusing finger at Sternlight. “His last order was to kill my
mother’s
child.”

Sternlight shook his head. “That is what he said, but Crow Beard was confused, babbling. I pieced together his intent from the phrases ‘if a savior rises now,’ and ‘Jay Bird’s brood.’ Do you recall your father saying those things?”

Grudgingly, Snake Head admitted, “Something like that, yes.”

“Don’t you see?” Sternlight addressed the elders. “Crow Beard knew that in the summers since the boy’s birth, the situation with the Mogollon has steadily worsened. We have knocked them back time and again. If a savior rose now, they would leap to follow him. Crow Beard’s last order was to kill
that
child. And
I
knew what he meant.” Sternlight exhaled hard. “But I could not reveal the secret, not while Crow Beard was alive. I had given him my promise.”

The beauty of his deep voice seemed to have cast a spell upon the gathering. The elders sat transfixed. Night Sun looked at Ironwood and he held her gaze for so long that her heart slammed against her ribs. Could any of this be true?

Snake Head glanced at Night Sun, then Ironwood, and his eyes narrowed. “So, Sternlight. You lied to me.”

“I did.”

“And, thereby,” Weedblossom said in a reedy voice, “may have saved us all. I have heard enough. Moon Bright, what do you say?”

Moon Bright’s silver hair glistened as she nodded. “I have no more questions.”

“And you, Whistling Bird?”

The old man shouted, “What? Speak up!” He twisted around to stare at Weedblossom’s lips.

She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned toward him, bellowing, “I asked if you had heard enough?”

Whistling Bird scowled at her. “No need to shout. I think she’s innocent, if that’s what you mean.”

Weedblossom sighed. “Well, then, let’s go. I’m very fatigued, and my joints ache.” She stood and waited for the other elders to join her; they headed for the staircase.

“Wait!” Snake Head shouted. “We are not finished!
I
don’t believe Sternlight’s story! How can you—”

Weedblossom pushed by Snake Head as she led the way out. The elders filed by, whispering to each other.

Snake Head stalked from the chamber and hurried up the stairs, not bothering with the drama of thumping his staff this time. Night Sun could hear him calling,
“Weedblossom? Weedblossom, wait! You can’t seriously think…”

When their voices faded away, Sternlight reached for the bench, sank down, and dropped his head in his hands. He was trembling.

“Sternlight?” Night Sun called, and took two quick steps.

“No, I’m all right.” He held up a hand. “Just … exhausted.”

Night Sun knelt at his feet and gently touched his knee. “You kept that a secret all these summers, my nephew? Even from me?”

“I keep my promises, aunt. To you, and to your husband.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I know.”

Dune grunted as he rose. He hobbled over to pat Night Sun’s shoulder. “You’re free.” Damp wisps of white hair matted his temples. “Snake Head knows he cannot win now. But watch him. There’s no telling what he might try next to destroy you.”

She gripped his knobby fingers. “Thank you, Dune, for helping me.”

He smiled toothlessly. “It took a lot out of me. I’m too old for such bantering. I’m going to find my blankets. We’ll speak more when you and I are both rested.”

“If you don’t mind,” Sternlight said, “I’ll walk with you. I’m very tired.”

Dune nodded. “You must be. You were
extraordinary,
Sun-watcher. Come, I’ll enjoy your company on the walk.”

Sternlight smiled weakly at the praise, kissed Night Sun’s temple, and followed Dune up the stairs.

Night Sun shook her head at their retreating backs, relieved and more than a little confused. She turned to Ironwood, and he straightened as though anticipating her questions.

Their gazes locked, neither of them said anything for a time. The strain had etched deep lines around his eyes, and his tan shirt clung to his muscular body in damp folds. She could smell his musky sweat. He must have been terrified.

She rose to her feet and walked toward him. “Was any of that true?”

“Some.”

Night Sun’s brows drew together. As the fear seeped away, her strength went with it. She glanced at Cloud Playing, then Crow Beard, and grief and loneliness flooded her. “Oh, Ironwood, what will I do now? I feel so empty.”

“You will do what you must. As you always have. Let me take you back to your chamber. You must be exhausted, too.”

Night Sun crushed the blue fabric of her dress in nervous fingers. She walked closer to him, peering up into his handsome face. The fire cast an amber aura around them. Flickers of gold glimmered in his dark eyes. “Will you stay with me?” she asked. “To talk?”

“Night Sun,” he said as if not wishing to answer that question. “I—I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It would make things harder.… For me.”

She shook her head, denying some wordless inner warning. “I understand, but can’t you just spend a hand of time with me? Surely you can stand that? I have no one else—now—and I need to talk. Please?”

His shoulders contracted and swelled against his buckskin shirt. First he shook his head, then he closed his eyes, and whispered, “All right. Just for a hand of time.”