People of the Silence (66 page)

Thistle’s brows drew together. “Crow Beard’s soul isn’t in his body?”

“No,” Cone grimaced. “Despite Snake Head’s promise to Jay Bird, apparently Dune smashed the dead Chief’s skull to release it. That news disappointed Jay Bird, and he still hasn’t gotten over it. It’s another reason he doesn’t trust Snake Head—or me, for that matter.”

Thistle massaged her forehead. “This just gets worse and worse.”

“Yes. I know.”

Thistle looked at him. “I didn’t mean that as an accusation. I’m praying with every bit of strength in my body that Jay Bird kills Snake Head. Tell me what I must do, and I will help you. I will help Jay Bird. I will help
anyone
who is trying to clean out the rot in Talon Town.”

Wind Baby gusted through the valley, and Thistle’s hair fluttered about her angry face. Cone longed to touch the silken strands. She had lessened his smothering guilt, and deep gratitude stirred his soul. “Thank you, Thistle. You have no idea how much it means for me to hear you say that. But…” He paused and scowled at the grass growing up around the rock where they sat. “You know, don’t you, that if Snake Head has Cornsilk, he may be able to outwit Jay Bird. He can threaten to kill her—”

“Stop it!”
A woman’s hoarse scream rent the night.
“Let me go!”

Cone whirled to stare. One of the guards strode downhill, shoving a young woman before him. Her face was round, her body pudgy, and limp black hair hung even with her chin. She might have been aged fifteen or sixteen summers. Like a rabbit, she gaped at the crowd of warriors with huge brown eyes.

“Oh, no,” Thistle murmured.

“Who is she?”

“Leafhopper. Cornsilk’s best friend. I told her to hide on the road until I returned. Apparently, the guards saw her.”

When Leafhopper spied Thistle, she cried, “Thistle, help me!”

Thistle stepped forward and said, “Please? She is with me! She means you no harm. Please, don’t hurt her!”

The tall warrior shoved Leafhopper to her knees near the fire. She stayed down, clasping her hands before her, gazing wide-eyed around the circle of men. Her mouth trembled with fear.

“Forget her for now!” Howler said as he pushed through the warriors, his hideously scarred face twisted. He gruffly motioned with his arm. “Come, woman. He’s ready to see you—but you alone. He has ordered that Cone and I, and all the other warriors, stand at a distance.”

“Does he speak—”

“He speaks your language better than you. Now, come, hurry.”

Thistle rose and squared her narrow shoulders. Without a word, she patted Leafhopper’s hair reassuringly, then walked past Howler and into the fire’s glow. The warriors murmured, and some grinned lecherously.

Cone followed, shoving by Howler so he could see, but hard hands stopped him. Leafhopper studied his red shirt, and such hope lined her young face that it made Cone long to go to her, to comfort her. She looked at him as though he represented salvation itself—but he could do nothing. Not yet.

Jay Bird stood, and his long black-and-white cape fell around him in sculpted folds. His gray hair hung even with his shoulders and glinted orange in the firelight. Cone couldn’t say precisely what made the man so formidable. Jay Bird wore no jewelry, dressed plainly, in common warrior’s garb, and didn’t even carry a knife at his belt. He stood there alone, pale, silent, dwarfed by the huge standing stones behind him. Yet Cone could not take his eyes from the man.

Thistle hurried forward, not like an enemy, but like a suppliant. She knelt before Jay Bird with her head bowed, lustrous black hair falling around her, and said, “Blessed Chief, I am honored to be able to speak with you. Who has not heard of the splendors of the Mogollon people and marveled at the stories of Chief Jay Bird’s greatness? All speak of your victories, and the many kindnesses you’ve shown to the weary and wounded, even if they were among those you counted as enemies.”

Cone lifted his brows in admiration. She had quickly moved to dangerous ground, acknowledging the hostilities between their peoples, then using Jay Bird’s reputation for compassion against him.

And Jay Bird knew it. He smiled faintly. “How would a Straight Path woman know of such things?”

He had a quiet voice, drowsy, but drowsy like a lion’s purr, promising quick death if displeased.

Thistle lifted her head and gazed up with wide beautiful eyes. “The Traders speak of these things, and more. Please, I know that much hatred lies between our peoples. But I have come here, at great risk to myself, to give you news that will surely bring joy and fear to your heart. For a short while, forgive me the crimes of my people. I promise I—”

Jay Bird stopped her with a soft, “Enough,” then stepped forward and held out his hand. His warriors went silent, mouths gaping. The tension crackled.

Cone glanced around at their awed faces. Even he knew that Jay Bird rarely extended the hand of friendship to a stranger, and least of all to a woman of the Straight Path nation.

Thistle placed her thin fingers in his, and Jay Bird drew her to her feet. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders. As she looked up at him, Jay Bird stood quietly, looking into her eyes. Then he led her away from the fire, to sit with him on a flat rock at the base of the largest standing stone. The massive stone stood sixty hands tall and had a split top with a stunted juniper growing in the crack.

They made a strange sight. The tall graying elder, slender and dignified, seated next to the delicate raven-haired beauty in the dirty yellow dress.

Out of hearing range, Cone could only fold his arms and wait to see if she lived or died.

*   *   *

The fires in the valley threw faint multiple shadows over the low hills. Here and there the light fluttered on boiling bags hanging from tripods, wind-blown grass, and warriors rolled in blankets. Snores laced the cool night air.

Jay Bird considered the woman beside him and the remarkable claim she’d made.
In this web of deceit, what does this mean? Has she come here to trick me, or is she really driven by the need for revenge?

He pulled his cloak tight, and turned to Thistle with hard unblinking eyes. She didn’t flinch, but sat calmly, waiting for him to speak first. Dirt and grass stains streaked her yellow dress, and cactus thorns clustered on her left sleeve. She really did look as if she’d slid down the hill on her belly to get to him.

“You must know,” he said, “that I believe none of this.” Pain tinged his voice. He’d give anything if this woman spoke the truth … but how could he believe? She had shown up at just the right moment to distract him from his mission, and with the sort of news certain to throw him off balance.

“I ask only that you listen, Great Chief,” Thistle said. “If, after I have finished, you still do not believe me, then I will submit myself to whatever punishment you choose, even if it means death, or worse, slavery and abuse by your warriors.”

Jay Bird leaned forward, gazing down at the hands he held clasped between his knees. “Very well. Tell me your story.”

“Let me start,” she said, “with the day, almost seventeen summers ago, that Young Fawn came to me and told me of her pregnancy. I—”

“Why would she come to you? One of her captors?”

Thistle looked him straight in the eye. “I was her friend, Great Chief, not her captor. Young Fawn and I grew up together in Talon Town. Though our stations in life gave us different duties, mine as a mason, and hers as a slave, we often spoke and laughed together. You must know that slavery is a matter of degree. Young Fawn was Mogollon, but I am one of the Made People; we both served the First People. Neither of us meant much in the eyes of the rulers of Talon Town, and such things create bonds.”

Jay Bird watched the firelight dance over her serious face. Search as he might, he could find no deception in her eyes. “Please, go on.”

Thistle smoothed her fingers over the cold bumps on her arms. “When Young Fawn told me of her pregnancy, I feared for her. She had not asked her master’s permission, and—”

“This was nine moons before the girl child was placed in your husband’s arms?”

“No, Great Chief. Your granddaughter was born early. When Beargrass first brought the baby home to me, I believed she was about eight moons old. The child was very small and frail. I made sure she got extra milk, to give her strength. When my milk began to run out, I gave my own son to another woman to feed, and kept Cornsilk at my breast.”

Jay Bird nodded, and she continued telling the story, but he barely heard her words. Memories coiled up from the locked chambers of his soul, and he saw again the beautiful little girl he’d loved more than life itself … and the attack where his wife, Moondance, had been shot through the belly, and his daughter stolen.

The attack had come as a complete surprise, superbly orchestrated by Crow Beard. Shrill war cries had torn that bright summer morning, making the very heavens throb. Flashing arrows had pocked the walls at Gila Monster Village. Jay Bird and most of his warriors had been cut off, separated from the village stronghold and unable to use its defensive location.

He and his warriors had fought desperately to advance along the canyon slope. Crow Beard’s warriors, half of them commanded by a brilliant young warrior named Ironwood, had fought off Jay Bird’s counterattack, while Crow Beard and the others plundered the village, murdered the elders, and took captives. Blessed gods, the Straight Path warriors had been brutal. When they’d finished and retreated down the wash, blood puddled on the rocks. As Jay Bird walked among the dead, crimson soaked the hem of his shirt. Once every twenty paces, he had to stop and wring it out before he could continue.

“We were paid extremely well to care for her—”

“By whom?” Jay Bird asked. “Who would have cared about a slave girl’s baby?”

Thistle shivered in the cold wind. “The father, Great Chief.”

“The father?”

“Yes. I believe the man that your daughter loved was War Chief Ironwood. He—”

“Ironwood?”
He felt himself pale.

“Yes.”

“How can you say she loved him?” Anger built under his heart, violent, edging toward a murderous rage. “More likely he took his pleasures from Young Fawn and she hated him!”

“No, not this time—though that is usually the way of things when slaves couple with their masters. Young Fawn told me she loved him, Great Chief, but even if she hadn’t I would have known. A light shone in her eyes when she spoke of her lover.”

Jay Bird remembered that light, and the way she had smiled her love at people. His mouth tightened as his heart throbbed.…

After the battle, he’d taken a straggling band of warriors and tried to rescue Young Fawn. Crow Beard had expected as much; he’d set up an ambush along the roads and butchered Jay Bird’s war party. The few that escaped, Jay Bird among them, had limped back to the winding valleys and towering pines of Gila Monster Cliffs seeking solace for their wounds, both of body and soul.

But the realization that he had failed, that his daughter lived, and he could not save her from the torment of slavery, had almost killed Jay Bird. He’d holed up in his house built high on the cliff face. He’d petted his dog and told her to light the fire and get a pot of tea going. Asked the dog to put out the fire … and that’s when he realized he’d gone mad.

“But tell me,” he interrupted, pulling himself back to the present. “What makes you think that the child given to you by the priest Sternlight was Young Fawn’s child? I know that Sternlight said the mother was a slave, but might it not have been another slave?”

“There were no other pregnant slaves due at the time. At least not that I knew of…” She hesitated, gazing at him with trepidation and sadness. “Do you know your daughter’s fate? What really happened to her?”

Jay Bird lifted his laced hands and propped his chin upon them. “I heard stories from Traders who attended that Solstice Celebration. They told me she had been murdered, her body found in a trash mound, but I know few of the details.”

Thistle brushed long wavy hair over her shoulder, and folded her arms. “Great Chief, shall I speak plainly? I know this will not be easy for you, even after all these summers.”

“I appreciate plain speaking, and I must hear it. Go on.”

Thistle nodded. “Young Fawn had been stabbed in the heart, and the child cut from her body.”

A hollow sensation swelled his chest. Voice tight, he said, “Cut from her body? What sort of madman would do something like that?”

“I can’t say. The murderer was never found.”

“Nor hunted for, I suspect.”

“I heard that Ironwood did search for the murderer, but you know how solstice celebrations are; there were so many people at Talon Town, the task was just impossible.”

Jay Bird’s gesturing hand cast inky shadows over the ground. “So, you suspect Ironwood was the father of my granddaughter, and that Young Fawn loved him. You also think he is the one who sent payment to rear Cornsilk.”

“I do.”

“Well, I suppose it’s possible. Men are curious creatures,” he said with narrowed eyes. “If it is a child a man wants, he can get one from almost any woman, of high status or low. But no man would pay for rearing a slave’s child unless he had loved the slave and felt a sense of duty to the little girl. That,” he whispered, “says a great deal for the man.”

“When you see Cornsilk, Great Chief, you will know the truth of my words. She has Young Fawn’s beautiful eyes, and Ironwood’s golden skin and slanting brows.”

Ironwood! Of all men, why did it have to be him?
The man had an uncanny, almost supernatural ability when it came to warfare. Over the years, Jay Bird had led his Mogollon in raid after raid, first in the attempt to rescue his daughter, and later, out of an unending desire for vengeance. While he might be able to inflict damage to the outlying villages, Ironwood had stymied his ability to strike at the First Peoples’ rich towns in Straight Path Canyon.

He clenched his hands and tucked them inside his cape so that she could not see how much he wanted to believe her. After his wife’s death, Moondance’s twin sister had graciously taken Jay Bird for her husband. It was her right as the next clan matron, but not her responsibility. Downy Girl could have chosen any man she wished to rule at her side. By choosing Jay Bird, Downy Girl had placed the needs of their people above her own needs. She had brought him back from madness, given him a purpose. Jay Bird had tried very hard to love Downy Girl, but their togetherness had produced only sons. Without a daughter or granddaughter to take over as clan Matron, the succession would fall to Moondance’s niece, Green Needle. She was a frivolous, selfish woman. Both Jay Bird and Downy Girl feared she would be the ruin of the Mogollon.