People of the Silence (70 page)

“How very kind of you to think of me. As a matter of fact, I’m starving.”

A sudden smile brightened her face, and it reminded him of spring sunlight in the canyon: breathtaking, fragile, and swiftly gone. “Preparing burials sounds like difficult work. Is it?”

Sternlight walked across the room, picked up two teacups and sat cross-legged on the mats opposite her. He lifted the pot and poured the cups full. “The really hard part is not the physical work, but looking into the faces of people you’ve loved, and knowing that they’re gone. It drains a person’s strength.” The ache in his voice surprised him. Over the sun cycles of handling the dead, he had learned a certain detachment, but Cloud Playing’s death had wounded him deeply.

Silk nodded. “I understand.”

Sternlight sipped the tea. “Oh, this is good, Silk. Did you blend flowers?”

“Yes, I brought dried sunflower and rose petals from Dune’s house in the north.” She placed the bowl of corn cakes between them. “Please, help yourself.”

Sternlight took one of the cakes and eagerly bit into it. The sweet flavor tasted delicious. “These have a red color. You mixed prickly pear fruit with the cornmeal, didn’t you?”

She nodded and her black hair fell over her shoulders. It was so long that its ends dragged the floor beside her. “Yes, my mother”—pain tightened her eyes—“she always made red corn cakes with fruit and nuts. I don’t know any other way to make them.”

“You don’t need to know another way. These are perfectly delicious. I’ll wager Poor Singer loves them, too.”

Her eyes glowed. “Oh, yes, very much. But I think he likes anything I make.”

“That’s because he loves you, Silk, though I don’t imagine he’s told you that. But it’s obvious.”

She took a bite of her corn cake. “Is it?”

“Very. Every time he says your name he smiles. Haven’t you noticed?”

Silk swallowed her mouthful, and took a sip of tea. “Well, actually, I have. Once or twice.”

“I would have been surprised if you hadn’t. I’m told that women know these things before men do.”

She finished her corn cake and sat back on the mat. “I made the rest for you,” she said, and pointed to the bowl. “I’m not very hungry.” Fear flitted through her eyes as she looked around the room.

Sternlight picked up another cake and chewed slowly. “Poor Singer told me that you haven’t found any family here, but you mustn’t give up hope.”

Tears suddenly filled her eyes.

Sternlight lowered his half-eaten cake to his lap. “Are you all right?”

Silk blinked the tears back. “Sternlight, I have something very important to speak with you about.”

“I’d be happy to help if I can.”

Silk glanced uneasily at the open doorway, as though fearing they might be overheard.

He gestured to the door. “Shall I lower the curtain?”

“Yes, if—if you wouldn’t mind.”

He placed his cake in the bowl, rose, and went to let the curtain fall closed. A bright outline of sunlight gleamed around it.

She lifted her head and watched him as he walked back. A glow lit her eyes.

He crouched on the mats to her left and said, “Now, what has you so frightened?”

She pulled her pack onto her lap and looked up at him as if he knew more than the gods themselves, and she feared him just as much. In a trembling voice, she said, “My mother told me that if I was ever in trouble, I should come to you.”

“Your mother?”

Silk pulled a blanket from her pack. As she unfolded it, and he saw the red, blue, and black diamonds studded with the finest turquoise, his legs went weak.

He sank to the floor, staring at her unblinking, and saw for the first time the distinctive golden color of her skin, so exactly like her father’s, and the pointed nose identical to her mother’s. “Blessed thlatsinas,” he whispered.
“Cornsilk?”

She nodded.

Sternlight closed his eyes a moment, fighting the tide of emotion. He had helped bring her into the world, cut her birth cord, seen her take her first breath, and heard her utter her first cry. He looked at her again. “I don’t know where to begin.”

She shrugged lightly. “I know so little, any place will be fine.”

On impulse, he reached out and touched her hand. “I’m so happy you’re safe. We were very worried after the attack on Lanceleaf. We feared you might have been—”

“Why couldn’t you stop the attack, Sternlight? You’re very powerful. Couldn’t you have ordered Webworm to leave us alone?”

He drew his hand back. “By then Crow Beard was dead, and Snake Head had become the new Blessed Sun. Webworm had to follow his orders. My protests meant nothing. And your father was away at the time, I—”

“My father?” She searched his face. “You mean, you’re
not
my father?”

He felt as if he’d been bludgeoned. He couldn’t speak. Then a smile crept over his face. “No, but after hearing that hopeful tone in your voice, I’m sorry I’m not.”

“Sternlight, please tell me who is? And my mother? I need to know their names.”

Sucking in a fortifying breath, he said, “There are some things I wish to tell you first, about my part in all this. Then I will go and prepare your father. I suspect he will need a little time.” He gently placed a hand on her cheek. “Your father has spent half of his life working to protect you, Cornsilk. He has placed himself at great risk more than once. When he sees you, he’ll probably be terrified. Please, be kind to him.”

She nodded against his hand. “I promise.”

Sternlight tipped his face and frowned at the ceiling. “Hallowed gods, I’ve explained all of this to you a thousand times in my dreams. Why am I suddenly at a loss?”

“Sternlight? Please? Is Ironwood my father?”

He looked down into her frightened eyes and a curious pang tightened his chest. “Yes, he is. But let me start before that, Cornsilk. This story begins almost seventeen summers ago. Ironwood had been War Chief for less than a sun cycle, and Night Sun—”

“Wait.” Cornsilk held up a hand. “Before you start, I should tell you that Snake Head came to see me. He—he climbed right down into our chamber without being invited, and he told me … he asked me about Lanceleaf Village and a girl named Cornsilk. I don’t think he was certain, but he seemed to think I might be Cornsilk. He said he wanted to talk with his ‘misbegotten half sister.’ And then … then he made threats. Told me I wasn’t to leave Talon Town.”

Sternlight felt ill. He bowed his head and grimaced at the white-plastered floor. “Then I’d better hurry.…”

*   *   *

Ironwood took the rungs of the ladders two at a time on his climb to the fourth story. People, disturbed by his haste, rose from the plaza, shielded their eyes against the slant of the afternoon sun and watched him curiously, whispering. Yellowgirl walked out into the middle of the eastern plaza to frown up, probably wondering where he headed in such a hurry. Her blue dress whipped about her legs. Gnat, who stood guard over the entry, also turned to stare.

Blood rushed so powerfully in Ironwood’s veins his whole body tingled. He hadn’t the time to worry about what they thought.

As he sprinted across the third-story roof for the next ladder, his gaze scanned the canyon. The cliffs looked golden against the sere blue sky. A flock of piñon jays whirled over his head, trilling and uttering sharp
rack-rack-racks.
People sat against the exterior wall of Streambed Town, women grinding corn and men weaving multicolored blankets. Their laughter carried on the cool dust-scented breeze that swept the desert.

Ironwood halted outside Night Sun’s door. She had the curtain lowered. He called, “Night Sun? Night Sun are you in there?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Just a moment.”

Ironwood spread his legs and clenched his jaw. Gnat and Yellowgirl continued to watch him with their brows lowered, but the others in the plaza gradually dispersed and went back to their chores. It seemed to take forever.

When Night Sun finally lifted her door curtain and draped it over its peg, Ironwood stared. She wore a long larkspur-colored dress and her graying black hair hung loose about her shoulders. She smelled of yucca soap and pine needles.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “I just finished my bath. What—”

“I need to come inside.”

Night Sun saw the panic on his face and stepped back with a frown. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Ironwood entered, lowered the door curtain again and stood in front of her breathing hard. Her dark eyes searched his. He said, “Night Sun … Cornsilk is here. In Talon Town.”

Her face slackened in understanding. “She’s
here?
Where? Where is my daughter? I want to see her.” She headed for the door, and Ironwood reached out to grip her arm.

“I want you to listen to me first.”

Night Sun glanced at his hard hand on her wrist, then said, “Go on.”

Ironwood released her and took a deep breath. “The young woman who arrived with Poor Singer is our daughter. She escaped the Lanceleaf Village slaughter, but—”

“Thank the gods. Is she all right? What happened—”

“
But,
” he said insistently, and lifted his fists to silence her, “before any of us knew who she was, Snake Head went to visit her. I don’t know how he knows—
but he does.
”

Night Sun shook her head in confusion. “But how could he? If none of us realized—”

“That doesn’t matter, Night Sun!” he shouted, and immediately regretted it. He closed his eyes a moment, calming himself, and forced himself to speak in a low voice. “He asked her questions about Lanceleaf Village and threatened her. Told her he suspected she was his ‘misbegotten half-sister.’ Do you understand what I’m saying? For the sakes of the gods, Night Sun.
He has the proof he needs to execute you! You
must
leave! It doesn’t have to be with me, Night Sun, but you
—”

“Yes,” she said, staring unblinking at him. “I understand.”

Turning away, she slowly walked across her chamber to stare out the window. Propped Pillar sparkled with an amber brilliance in the afternoon sunlight. The eagle nest on the top was empty, the parents no doubt out hunting in the canyon. As she tipped her face to gaze up at it, long hair fell down her back, the gray strands glimmering whitely against her purplish blue dress.

Ironwood vented a halting breath and folded his arms tightly across his breast, giving her time to think it over.

“Your life is at stake, too,” she said softly, without turning. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight. I’ll meet Cornsilk at dusk, then I’m grabbing my pack and getting out. I have no desire to face the elders. This time, they’ll have no choice but to—”

“Ironwood.” Night Sun turned. Her beautiful face was sheathed with sunlight, her dark eyes glimmering. A strange serenity had possessed her. “I don’t want to live anywhere hot. Let’s go north, to the mountains.”

After a moment’s hesitation, long enough for her meaning to sink in, Ironwood strode across the room and embraced her so hard it drove the air from her lungs. He held her in silence for a time, then said, “We must wait until it’s completely dark to leave. Sternlight will distract Webworm when we’re ready to go. I’ve already worked this out with him, though he thought it would be just Cornsilk and me, but—”

Night Sun pushed back from him. “Cornsilk could
stay,
Ironwood. She has the right. If she wishes to accept the position as Matron of Talon Town, my disgrace will not disqualify her.”

Ironwood’s gaze darted about while he thought. “I will speak with her about it.” He looked down. “Night Sun, I would like to talk with her first … alone. I do not mean to—”

“Of course, Ironwood,” she interrupted. “You have taken care of her for many summers. It is your right. Perhaps after you speak to her, you could bring her to my chamber? Or we could have supper together? Something?”

He nodded. “Of course, and then…”

Night Sun looked at him so sternly, Ironwood backed away in confusion. They stood six hands apart, their gazes locked. An odd expression creased her beautiful face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I say something—”

She steepled thin fingers over her mouth and gazed at him as though about to deliver a life or death ultimatum to an enemy chief. “You will
never
regret this, Ironwood. I know I’ve caused you much grief in the past, but I love you more than I could ever tell you. I
promise
I will make you happy.”

He went still, staring at her.

When her jaw trembled, Ironwood stepped forward and clutched her tightly against him. It took several moments for him to realize the warmth in his hair was not her breath, but tears.

He gently kissed her temple. “As long as I’m with you, I can face anything. Now, let’s talk seriously. We have to make plans.…”

Forty-Two

In a futile attempt to soothe himself, Ironwood let his gaze linger on the land. As the afternoon waned, shadows crept across the canyon, filling in the hollows, defining the drainages. A scalloped strip of sunlight hung like torn fabric from the cliff’s rim, but the stone below had purpled with the coming of evening. From where Ironwood sat near a boulder at the edge of Straight Path Wash, he could see Sternlight and Cornsilk walking down the trail from Talon Town. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

At least Sternlight had managed to get her out of Talon Town. After Snake Head’s warning, Ironwood had half worried that Webworm would refuse her permission.

He’d been preparing for this moment for more than sixteen summers, and now that it had arrived, all the practiced speeches sounded hollow.

For some time after Cornsilk’s birth, he’d been too hurt and too afraid to even think about his daughter. But once Crow Beard returned and things settled down at Talon Town, he’d thought about her constantly. In his dreams, a little girl’s bubbling laughter and the swift patter of childish feet echoed. Every sun cycle on her bornday, he’d sat alone in his chamber and tried to imagine what she must look like now, how she had grown. Did she have Night Sun’s voice, or his own? Did she look like him or her mother? Frightened and lonely, the only solace he’d had was the knowledge that Cornsilk was safe and being raised by good, capable people. So often, so very often, he’d longed to sit with Night Sun and tell her that their daughter lived, that Cornsilk was three, or four, or five summers this cycle, and doing well. But when they passed in the plaza, Night Sun would deliberately lower her eyes, speaking to him only when she had to, and he’d known he would never lie in her arms, the arms of the mother of his child, and find comfort for his loneliness.…