People of the Silence (77 page)

He barely heard the whistle of the war club before it crushed his skull.

*   *   *

Jay Bird caught Gnat’s body as he slumped and eased him to the plastered roof. He took a moment to gauge Thistle’s response, but even in the darkness he could see her steely eyes as she stepped forward and peered at the warrior’s body. No doubt about it, this woman hated.

“Grab his other arm.” Together, he and Thistle propped the corpse up and crouched around him as if the three of them were talking. Then, looking out at the night, Jay Bird hooted in the soft imitation of an owl’s call.

A moment later shadows moved in the darkness. Howler’s three picked men slipped through the entryway and pursued their separate courses to silence the remaining guards, who stood gazing down at the roads. This was the most delicate part of the operation. If an alarm was to be given, it would come now. Still, none of them expected an assault from within their own walls.

All these summers, I have waited for this.
Jay Bird filled his lungs with the cool night air, hoping to calm his pounding heart. The dead left in Crow Beard’s wake, Young Fawn’s captivity and death, all those wailing ghosts, would be avenged here, tonight, at Talon Town itself.

Jay Bird took a moment to be awed by the very size of the building. Five stories tall! It was huge! What talent it took to build walls capable of bearing so much stone and plaster!

“How did they ever build this?” he wondered aloud.

“One day, Great Chief, I’ll tell you. My own hands helped to raise the eastern walls.” Thistle paused, voice dropping. “In another world. Another life.”

A low whistle carried on the quiet night. One guard dead. Then, another, and—

“What?”
the man on the eastern wall shouted.
“Who are you! What do you—”

Jay Bird clenched a fist and looked up. His warrior had knocked the man flat. In the starlight, he could see them wrestling on the rooftop, rolling over and over. Finally, the sound of club against skull split the night, then a groan, a whistle, and all went silent again.

Jay Bird turned and motioned. Thirty warriors flowed through the entryway in a smooth stream. They moved with such silence, only the grating of sandals on the ground marked their invasion of Talon Town.

Jay Bird and Thistle hurried down the ladder to meet the warriors, motioning them into the shadows of the line of rooms that divided the plaza.

Thistle pointed to the upper stories in the eastern tier of the town. “Those are the rooms of the First People. That’s where you will find Night Sun. Her chamber is there, that T-shaped doorway.”

Jay Bird translated her words to his warriors, and motioned the first party of ten to get moving. They trotted across the plaza and charged up the ladders beside the Great Warriors. In the dim light the gods appeared to be glowering down with malignant intent.

“The slaves are locked in the circular chambers over there,” Jay Bird told Howler, and waved to the rooms. “You’ll need to drop a ladder down to them and remind them to be quiet as they make their escape.”

Howler nodded and took the second group of ten warriors.

“That doorway next to the gate leads to the First People’s kiva.” Thistle led Jay Bird and the remaining warriors along the strip of rooms dividing the plaza and toward the door.

At that moment, a man shouted, then came scuffling noises and groans.

“What’s happening?” Jay Bird called softly. Two of his warriors dragged a big, gray-haired man through the gate. It took both of them to hold him. Jay Bird instinctively clutched his war club, dropping into a crouch. He could hear his warriors drawing nocked arrows against bowstrings.

A war club was raised to dispatch the struggling man when Thistle called out, “Wait! It’s Ironwood!”

“Stop!” Jay Bird called out in his own tongue. “We need him.”

“We found him scrambling up a ladder, trying to warn the guards,” the tall warrior, Foxbat, whispered.

“Ironwood,” Jay Bird said with a frozen smile. “It’s been such a long time.” Jay Bird reached out, offering his hand.

To his surprise, the Straight Path warrior looked around at the men surrounding him, then nervously accepted Jay Bird’s hand, asking, “Who are you? Why—”

Jay Bird yanked him close, drew his stiletto from his belt, and jammed the sharpened tip against Ironwood’s neck. “Make no sound, War Chief, or I drive this point home. Now, listen closely. Do you know Cornsilk? A girl from Lanceleaf Village? Tell me this instant, or you and a great many people will die.”

“Who are you?”
Ironwood hissed between clenched teeth.

“Her grandfather!”

Ironwood shook his head in confusion. “What?”

Thistle stepped forward, close enough that Ironwood could see her clearly. She said, “I’ve come to save my daughter, Ironwood. Where is she? The Cage?”

Jay Bird felt Ironwood swallow, his throat working against the point of the stiletto. His eyes widened as he gazed down at Thistle. “No. She’s … she’s in the kiva, Thistle. Why are you
doing
this?”

“Because she’s all I have left, Ironwood. Come on, this way!” Thistle hurried forward.

“Foxbat!” Jay Bird shoved Ironwood to the two warriors who’d captured him. “Quickly! Bind his hands and tie a cord around his neck so you can choke him down if he tries to scream.”

He and his warriors trailed along after Thistle into the splendidly painted altar room, and then descended the stairs into the great kiva with its four red masonry pillars and stunning array of masks.

“Cornsilk!” Thistle cried, running toward a knot of people gathered around a prostrate young woman.

A tall woman rose to her feet and gave Jay Bird a wary look. The three men stood up one at a time, whispering uneasily to each other.

“Surround them!” Jay Bird gestured to each side. “Search this place. Take anything that looks valuable.” Then, as his warriors scattered, scooping offerings from the wall niches and pulling down sacred masks, Jay Bird stepped toward the waiting people, his heart in his throat.

Thistle knelt at the unconscious girl’s side. Was this his granddaughter? For the moment, he could see little beyond the dark ugly bruise, the swelling on one side of her face.

“What happened here?” he demanded.

The woman, a slender hard-eyed beauty, spoke. “She was shot in the face with an arrow. An attempted murder. Who are you?” She scanned the warriors. “What do you want?”

Jay Bird raised his eyes, reacting to the tone of command. No one had ever addressed him like that. He met her stare, read her growing alarm as she watched his warriors stealing the most precious artifacts of her people. One of his men threw a magnificent Green Mesa pot to the floor, where it shattered and spilled its contents across the dirt. The warrior gleefully scooped them up.

“That’s enough,” Jay Bird ordered his men. “We may have only moments left before someone sounds the alarm. Stuff what you have in your packs and surround these people. They’re coming with us.”

He turned to the tall woman. “What is your name? And don’t lie to me, or you’ll be dead.”

“I am Night Sun.” At that instant, she gasped and took a running step forward. Jay Bird looked where she did and saw Ironwood being shoved in ahead of Foxbat, bound and gagged.

Jay Bird caught her arm and jerked her backward. “And these people?” He nodded to the old man, the curiously tranquil priest, and the youth who watched him with wide, disbelieving eyes. The boy had twined a hand in Cornsilk’s blood-soaked yellow sleeve.

The white-haired elder with the deeply wrinkled face stepped forward. “I am Dune, called the holy Derelict. Beside me is Sternlight, Sunwatcher of Talon Town. The young man is my assistant, Poor Singer. Apparently, you already know Cornsilk. What is it you wish from us, Great Jay Bird?”

At the name, Night Sun and Poor Singer reacted as if slapped. Sternlight only stared, an odd light burning in his eyes. He did not seem to see the kiva, crawling with mortal enemies, but gazed into another world.

“How is Cornsilk?” Jay Bird asked. Thistle was holding the girl’s hand. “Will she live?”

“Of course she will,” Night Sun said. “I tended her wounds myself. Now I demand to know…”

Ironwood shook his head, and Night Sun caught it. She shot him a quick look, and whatever she had wished to demand, she decided against it. She squared her narrow shoulders and leveled a glare at Jay Bird.

Jay Bird lifted an eyebrow. “As much as I would like to linger and enjoy the hospitality of Talon Town, I simply haven’t the time. I do, however, look forward to getting to know all of you. At Gila Monster Cliffs. Within the walls of my own village we will have fewer interruptions.” He gestured threateningly with his stiletto. “The first one of you who resists, or seeks to impede our progress, will force me to take my displeasure out on Night Sun.” He searched their eyes, one by one—especially Ironwood’s. “Do you understand?”

Even the War Chief nodded.

“Let’s go!” Jay Bird turned toward the exit.

“Great Chief?” Foxbat asked. His lean feral face had tensed. “What of the old man? I don’t think he could walk across the room, let alone make the march back to Gila Monster Cliffs. Should I kill him?”

“Kill the holy Derelict? No, my friend.” Jay Bird gripped his warrior’s arm. “He’s worth too much to us. We’ll carry him and Cornsilk. When we get outside, take some ladders. They’ll serve just fine for litters.”

“Yes, my chief.” The man trotted for the stairs.

Jay Bird knelt by Cornsilk and scrutinized her. Wrapped in three blankets, she looked warm. Her breathing came in quick shallow gasps, but she seemed to be sleeping soundly. Very gently, Jay Bird slipped his arms beneath her shoulders and knees, and lifted her. “Howler? Take everyone else ahead of me and make certain the plaza is secure. I’ll carry my granddaughter myself.”

“I understand.”

Howler gestured to one of the warriors who held Ironwood. “Black Quill, throw your cape around Ironwood, and take him out first, just in case someone gets excited and decides to shoot before they look.”

“Yes,” Black Quill removed his black-and-white cape and tied it around Ironwood’s shoulders. The big man glared defiantly as the warriors shoved him toward the stairway.

With a practiced efficiency, Howler directed the departure of the rest of the people. “Take the priests next, then the youth and the woman.”

Jay Bird waited, clutching Cornsilk to his chest, until the last warrior had trotted up the steps, then he carried his granddaughter out and into the cool night. Talon Town had turned a pale blue in the moonlight. Someone cried out … then screamed. A dog barked. Dark figures, many calling out in the Mogollon tongue, hurried across the plaza for the entry, escaping into the darkness.

Foxbat and Howler ran up carrying a ladder and a coil of yucca rope.

“Good,” Jay Bird said. “Place it on the ground.”

They did, and Jay Bird carefully lowered Cornsilk to the pine rungs. The blankets would cushion her body, but her right ear rested on a bare pole. Jay Bird removed his cape, folded it and tucked it beneath her injured head. “Tie her down and let’s be off.”

“Yes, my chief.”

Jay Bird stood, cupped his hands to his mouth, and made a shrill whistle, recalling the warriors inside the walls. As they trotted past, Jay Bird turned to the two men who carried Cornsilk. She lay on the ladder wrapped in blankets. Jay Bird gazed at her swollen face with his heart thumping, searching, searching for some resemblance to his daughter. He saw nothing, but perhaps later he would, when the swelling went down. “Be very careful with my granddaughter.”

“It’s our honor, Great Chief.” From the tone, he knew she’d be coddled like a fragile pot.

Two warriors held Sternlight in hard hands. They rushed him past toward the entry. He looked like a man caught in a horrifying snare, ready to chew off his foot to escape. One by one warriors trooped out, some bloody, all carrying sacks of loot over their shoulders, or prodding captives before them, mostly young women who had dared to look out of their chambers when they heard the racket. A hollow wailing pierced the night.

The holy Derelict passed, riding a ladder carried by two burly warriors, clutching the rungs as if for dear life, a sour, humiliated look on his face.

Two more warriors shoved Night Sun forward, her hands bound, a thong about her neck. Her eyes were those of a woman seeing her world die.

Look well, Matron, for after this night, the Straight Path people shall never be the same.

To Jay Bird’s surprise, Ironwood tried to touch Cornsilk as her ladder rushed by, but Foxbat pulled him back and choked him into submission.

Ironwood staggered, coughed, then struggled to turn to Jay Bird, calling, “Jay Bird? Listen to me!”

“What is it?”

“You and I, we know each other.” Ironwood fought for breath, wheezing. “If you will treat Night Sun well … I—I’ll do whatever you wish of me. Do you understand? Anything.”

Jay Bird heard the desperation and found it … interesting. Then he caught the look Ironwood and Night Sun exchanged. Jay Bird nodded to himself. “Yes, I think I do understand.”

The lowly War Chief loved the great Matron of Talon Town? A brave man, indeed. Perhaps, for that reason, Jay Bird would take Night Sun as his consort—as Ironwood had taken Jay Bird’s daughter.

As they rushed out through the entry and into the night, they passed Gnat’s dead body, crumpled in a black heap beside the wall.

Jay Bird turned one last time, pride swelling inside him as he gazed upon the great stronghold of the Straight Path people—a stronghold that had fallen to his cunning.
What a raid! It shall be talked about by my grandchildren’s grandchildren. My only regret is that I can’t leave it in flames!

The slaves raced ahead down the road like thirsty beasts scenting water. Hushed weeping mixed oddly with joyous whispers.

Jay Bird, in his ring of warriors, sprinted after them.

The other villages had wakened. People rushed around the roofs of Streambed Town, gasping, pointing.

“Come on!” he yelled, waving a fist over his head.
“Run. Run hard!”