People of the Silence (62 page)

Oh, Snake Head will
love
that.

Her gaze drifted over the pots and baskets lining the east wall to her right. Crow Beard kept his most precious possessions in the large black-and-tan basket in the northeastern corner. Night Sun walked toward it.

Strange, that the room felt so familiar. She had not slept with him in many summers, but she had routinely visited to talk about clan affairs, planting and harvesting, and about their children.

Our children.

For seven generations, the women of her family had been Matrons of Talon Town.

With Cloud Playing gone, who will follow me?

Night Sun rested a fist on top of the eight-hands-tall basket and stared at the white floor through blurred eyes. The whole world seemed to be unraveling around her. How could she even consider leaving Talon Town with no one to install in her place? So few First People remained. If their civilization were to continue, Talon Town
must
have a strong matron. Snake Head might rule, but he had no authority to make any of the decisions about building, planting, moving to a new village for the summer, harvesting, or other social affairs. He would, however, decide when to raid, and when to war, and she cursed the ancestors for that.

Spring equinox celebrations would start in less than a moon. Soon, perhaps today, runners from the outlying Winter Villages would arrive, asking her how many pine logs they should cut and haul in for new construction projects, how much firewood was needed, how much sandstone should they quarry, and did she wish extra turquoise for Traders? The Fire Dogs and Tower Builders had attacked several more villages, did she wish people to congregate in the canyon for safety? Or stay in the farming flats and raise their corn, beans, and squash? Perhaps they should all move north to the Green Mesa villages for the summer? The mountain cliffs would be safer. They’d done it in the past when no rains came to Straight Path Canyon. Why not for defense this time?

She leaned against the basket.
My people need me.

In her soul, Ironwood’s face and the light in his eyes beckoned. Blessed gods, how she feared it. What if they left Talon Town together? Sought out a new home far from the Straight Path nation? Could their love survive the dislocation, the loneliness for family and friends? Could
she?
Could Talon Town and the Straight Path nation lose both of them? No one else possessed Ironwood’s knowledge of politics and warfare. What if the raiding erupted into outright war? Webworm would need Ironwood desperately.

But how could a strong and capable man like Ironwood subordinate himself to Webworm? And, if Ironwood offered advice, it would have to be in private, for Webworm could never allow it to be said that he leaned on Ironwood.

Whispers echoed through her soul. Stories told around the Winter Solstice fires, about First People who’d stood up against the worst that life could, bring: Wolfdreamer had led humans up through the dark underworlds and been forced to kill his own brother to keep them safe; Twisting Cloud Girl and Tusk Boy had climbed into the sky on the back of the Rainbow Serpent to gain Father Sun’s aid in keeping back the terrible flood waters that threatened to swallow up the First People; White Ash and Bad Belly had braved the end of the world itself, to straighten the spiral of Creation so that humans might continue to live with Our Mother Earth.

All of those ancestors had stared defeat in the face, and refused to yield to it. They had not been crushed by loneliness, the hatred of their people, the arrows of enemies, or even the malignant wills of the gods. Fate might have broken their families and their bones, but it had never broken their spirits. They had not wandered about, moping, filled with self-doubts—at least, not for long. They’d stared defeat in the eye and fought back.

A faint smile softened her face. The heroic blood of those ancestors ran in her veins. Surely there must be something of them in her? If she reached down deeply enough, perhaps she could find the courage to give up everything she had known—Wolfdreamer had done it—and the nerve to let her people stand on their own feet without her—Twisting Cloud Girl had given her very life so that her people might have the strength to do exactly that.

Wind Baby flitted through the chamber, sniffing at the coals in the warming bowl; the red gleam wavered and danced. Night Sun ran her fingers over the fine weave of the basket lid, tracing the black lightning spirals that zig-zagged around the edges.

You don’t know what the next half a moon will bring, but whatever it is, it will change your life forever.

Gripping the lid with both hands, Night Sun lifted it and started to set it aside, then gasped as if she’d been struck. The basket was empty!
Completely empty!

“What happened to all the turquoise? The jewelry and rare pots? The blankets made by the…”

A soft laugh sounded behind her.

Night Sun whirled and saw Snake Head lounging against the wall by the door. He wore black leggings and a brilliant yellow shirt snugged at the waist with a black sash. He’d pulled his hair away from his handsome face and coiled it into a bun. His oval face with its large dark eyes shone orange.

“Did you take your father’s belongings?” she demanded.

“They were rightfully mine, Mother. Regardless of who my father was—”

Enraged, she stammered, “H-how dare you!”

“Oh, please! Don’t act innocent in front of me. I know you far better than you think.”

Snake Head pushed away from the wall and walked toward her. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with the caution of a hunting animal, each step slow and deliberate. He stopped over the warming bowl and held out his hands.

Night Sun slipped the lid back onto the basket. “Return Crow Beard’s belongings immediately.”

“And if I don’t? What?” He rubbed his hands together and gazed at her from the corner of his eye.

What, indeed? I can’t accuse the new Blessed Sun of stealing his own inheritance.… Or can I?
Was this the opportunity she’d been hoping for? A way out of this tangled disaster?

“If you don’t,” Night Sun calmly threatened, “I will call a meeting of the First People elders to discuss your fitness to rule Talon Town. Those things may have belonged to you, but not until ritually cleansed. And then it is
my
right to decide which items you receive. By taking them, you have disavowed all of the ceremonial teachings of the right of succession. Perhaps that act alone will cause the elders to find you unworthy of succeeding your father.”

He turned to face her. “Perhaps you should use another threat. After all, if you reveal the sacred prohibitions I’ve broken, I might decide to do the same for you.”

“What? I’ve broken no—”

“Did you know that I used to follow you?”

“Follow me?… When?”

“When I was a boy.” He walked over to gaze up into the Wolf Thlatsina’s haunting face. The fanged muzzle seemed to be grinning down with malevolent intent.

Night Sun stood silently, waiting. Why had he taken so many precious things and left the turquoise Spirit Guides? The figurines could have bought him status anywhere in the Straight Path nation, but the …

An icy tingle went up her back. Her heart started to pound. “Snake Head, where are the things you took?”

As though he hadn’t heard, he reached out and ran his fingers down the lines of white dots on the thlatsina’s left forearm. “Yes, Mother, I followed you everywhere you went seventeen summers ago. Every time you slipped off to couple with Ironwood, I—”

“What?”
Fear—bright and hot—ran through her veins.
No, he can’t know about those precious moments. It would taint them—

“Why, indeed, Mother.” His hand fell to his side and he looked at her over his shoulder. “I watched you thrashing around with Ironwood in signal towers, abandoned houses, rock shelters, and even, on occasion, out in the open in broad daylight. You were truly shameless.” His eyes glowed. “And I
hated
you for it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He gave her a look of mock surprise. “You don’t recall any of those sordid meetings? Well, I do. I remember quite well, for instance, the time, during the Moon of Stone Cutting, when Ironwood spread a red-and-blue blanket out on that ledge of stone that juts from the canyon rim near TwoWay House. Why, Mother, the things you two did shock me even today when I think about them.”

Night Sun’s jaw trembled before she clamped it tight.
What a beautiful tender time that was.…

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“After all I witnessed, I have never been certain that Crow Beard was my father. Which—”

“Of course, he was your father!”

“Which means that I couldn’t be sure you would actually give me any of his belongings. If he isn’t my real father, you could have left me with nothing. So,” he added with a smile, “I collected for myself, for all the summers I put up with the rantings of that foul old man.”

“Snake Head, listen to me. He
was
your father, and I always intended—”

“Yes, well, that may be.” He walked around Crow Beard’s sleeping mats to stand no more than a body-length from Night Sun. Hatred lit his eyes. “But I didn’t wish to wait around to find out. Especially, Mother, since I’d hoped you’d be dead by now.”

She propped a hand on the basket lid to steady herself. Hearing the words from her son’s lips affected her like a blow to the head, leaving her dazed and sick to her stomach. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Snake Head’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me something, will you, mother? How did you arrange that charade?”

“Everything that Sternlight and Dune said w-was true.”

“Yes,” he laughed softly. “I can tell by the confidence in your voice. Well, it doesn’t matter now. At least … not for the moment. Did you also know that—”

“What do you mean, ‘for the moment’?”

Snake Head shrugged. “I’m not sure. After all, I was the only one who saw your indiscretions. There aren’t any witnesses to verify my words, though I have ‘mentioned’ your crimes to certain people—when I was a boy and didn’t know any better. Still, the elders wouldn’t believe me if I told them. But…” He paused. “I have considered openly talking about them anyway.”

“That would tarnish you as much as me.”
Who did he tell? Who would have listened to a boy?

“No, I don’t think so. As the Blessed Sun I could recover. You, however, would be ruined.”

Angry, terrified, Night Sun slitted her eyes. “I’d make certain you didn’t recover, my son. I’d—”

“Oh, Mother.” He sighed as if pained. “I know you’re already plotting to remove me with the least damage to yourself. Stop it. Right now. I might decide to call in people who could add to my stories in enough interesting ways that the elders would reconsider
your
fitness for being Matron of Talon Town.”

Stunned, still weak from her imprisonment, she longed to sit down, but she dared not show vulnerability before him. Night Sun casually leaned her back against the wall and locked her shaking knees.

“My son,” she said calmly, “no matter what rabble you convince to support you, you will have to fight me in the end. And, I assure you, you will lose that battle.”

“Planning on murdering me, Mother?” He lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Well, before you try, it might amuse you to know that I followed Crow Beard, too. Oh, yes, I did.” As though delighted to hurt her, he leaned forward, and hissed, “I saw him couple with dozens of slaves. But all of them, Mother, were
your
slaves. I don’t know why father did that, but he coupled with such violence, I assumed it was revenge.”

Sounds rose from the plaza, coughs, babies’ cries, soft conversations. Pots clacked against wooden paddles. The rich scent of frying corncakes drifted on the cool wind.

“Don’t try me, my son. You may destroy me, but I will bring you down with me.” She knotted a resolute fist. “On that, I give you my word.”

She strode past Snake Head with her head high. As she ducked through the doorway and out into the pale pink dawn, she heard Snake Head call:

“I followed Webworm, too, Mother! Every time he coupled with Cloud Playing, I watched! And Sternlight—your nephew was the worst of all. You’ve no idea the sort of heinous crimes he’s committed! Do you remember Young Fawn? Mourning Dove can verify my words! She followed me that day. She saw
everything.…
”

Night Sun scrambled down the ladder to the fourth-story roof and broke into a run, trying to get back to her chamber as quickly as she could.

Thirty-Eight

Thistle trotted along the trail ahead of Leafhopper. Their way threaded through the hills, cutting south from the holy road that angled southwest toward Humpback Butte and High Stone Village that stood at its base.

So much had changed, her yellow dress smudged with soot and dirt, her fine-boned face coated with dust. All of her life, she’d been so fastidious, much to Cornsilk and Fledgling’s dismay. Now bits of grass and twigs clung in her black hair that hung in a single braid down the middle of her back.

Leafhopper didn’t look much better, smudged, scratched, and hollow-eyed. The soot stains from the night Lanceleaf Village burned still clung to her clothing.

They had crossed the desolate sage-speckled flats south of Straight Path Canyon and now followed a winding trail southward through low buttes speckled with juniper and piñon. Dunes supported patches of sagebrush that gave way to halos of ricegrass higher than the greening junegrass and bluegrass. The squat buttes were capped by sandstones that covered tan, white, and yellow soils.

To the west lay Humpback Butte, while immediately to the south, across the broken terrain, they could see the rising silhouette of forested mountains, blue with haze, that marked the boundary between the Straight Path people and the Mogollon. Thistle’s path would take her through the gap between those pine-covered ranges, and then south into the mountains controlled by Jay Bird’s warriors.

The fiery face of Father Sun squatted just above the western horizon, casting long shadows over the irregular land. Radiant filaments stretched from his body and touched the delicate wisps of Cloud People that drifted across the blue, turning them molten. An amber glow flooded the rolling sage-covered hills.