Thirty-Two

As Night Sun slipped the clean blue dress over her head, the copper bells on the hem and sleeves jingled pleasantly. She had washed and twisted her gray-streaked black hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and put on turquoise eardrops. She looked very thin and pale, but she felt ready. Two hands of time ago, a slave had brought her wash water, clothing, jewelry, and the cedar bark torch that flickered on the wall. She’d told Night Sun to prepare for the gathering of First People elders.

The moment had come: judgment. Fear and relief vied for control of her senses. At least the waiting would finally be over, and she would see Cloud Playing. Of all the cruelties she had endured, Snake Head’s order that she not be allowed to see her daughter’s body until tonight had hurt the most. And she hated him for it.

But she hated herself more for bringing them all to this terrible place. Had she kept a tight hold on herself seventeen summers ago, this would not be happening. She had yielded to the joy Ironwood brought her, and now they both stood on the brink of destruction.

By now everyone in Straight Path Canyon would know she had been accused of adultery, and half of them would be glorying in her downfall. In the outlying villages, clan Matrons would be whispering, taking a malicious glee in the troubles of the First People at Talon Town. No matter what happened to her tonight, the story would grow and grow. Nothing could stop it. Speculation about the father of her child would run rampant. It terrified her.

If Snake Head should decide to banish her, she would manage, somehow, to stand the slights, the curses, the loss of old friends, but if Ironwood’s identity were known he would certainly be killed. The First People could not let such a scandal go unpunished. A member of the Bear Clan bedding the Matron of Talon Town! Unforgivable. Better that Night Sun had lain with an enemy chief, like Jay Bird, than one of the Made People. And it had not even been a powerful clan elder, but just a young warrior!

Night Sun’s hands curled into fists. The torch spluttered and cast a fluttering orange glow over the white walls, highlighting the black-and-white water jug and her folded gray blanket. A grim smile came to her lips. In all likelihood, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of this, since she suspected her son planned to execute her.

Night Sun bent to pick up the shell bracelet the slave had brought, and as she slipped it on her wrist, the covering over the roof hole slid back slightly.

Ironwood called, “Night Sun? May I enter?”

“You may, War Chief.”

The ladder dropped. Ironwood climbed down. He wore a beautifully dyed tan shirt with blue and red porcupine quill chevrons sewn across the breast. Fringes adorned the arms and covered his knees. His graying hair hung in a single long braid. His oval face with its slanting brows and flat nose looked oddly serene. “I am no longer War Chief, Night Sun.”

“To me, you always will be. As Matron of Talon Town, I can call you whatever I wish.”

“Your son—”

“Can leap off a cliff, for all I care.” She took a breath. “Has everyone arrived?”

“Yes. They’re in the kiva, waiting.”

Night Sun dried her clammy palms on her dress. “Then let’s have this over with.”

As she walked past him, Ironwood took her arm to stop her. It was the grip of a careless stranger, strong, painful. But as he peered down into her eyes, fear strained his expression. “Don’t say anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. Do you understand me?”

“You mean don’t give them any information unless I have to.”

“Exactly. Let Sternlight say all of the hard things. He is prepared to defend you.”

Night Sun frowned at him. Had Ironwood and Sternlight planned something? A plot to save her? She clasped Ironwood’s hand. “I promise I won’t admit my guilt.”

“Good.” He stepped away from the ladder. “I am to be your guard tonight. Please stay close to me.”

“You’ll be there?” she asked hopefully. “At the gathering?”

“Snake Head resisted at first, then, to Sternlight’s surprise, he relented. Sternlight said Snake Head almost looked satisfied with himself and muttered something about ‘twisted justice.’ I will take up my position at the foot of the stairs.”

“Thank the Spirits.” Just knowing he would be present gave her strength.

Night Sun climbed the ladder and stepped onto the roof. A din of whispers erupted. The plaza stood empty, but people crowded the white roofs, wrapped in blankets, watching. Night Sun’s heart ached. She lifted a hand to them, and hands went up everywhere in response. They dared not speak to her, but she saw their concerned expressions and took some comfort.

A dust-scented breeze rustled her blue hem and whipped up plumes of tan dirt in the plaza. The familiar half-moon shape of Talon Town spread around her, beautifully white. Father Sun had just sunk below the horizon and flames burned through the drifting clouds, but dusk had already settled over the canyon. Hundreds of fires sprinkled the bottomlands. She could hear faint flute music drifting from Streambed Town.

Ironwood climbed up, glanced at the people, and said, “They started gathering four hands of time ago. The elders from all of the Made People clans are out there.”

“And the slaves?”

“Snake Head wouldn’t permit it. He said they would cause mayhem. Many of them tried to sneak out anyway, to show their support for you, but Webworm and his warriors discovered them and drove them back to their chambers.”

“I wish I had strangled Snake Head at birth,” she said bitterly.

“Please, walk ahead of me, Night Sun. I will follow.”

She strode for the ladder that led down to the plaza, taking the rungs two at a time, rushing to the confrontation.

Ironwood walked behind her across the plaza, as a good guard should.

Propped Pillar shone purple in the twilight gleam, leaning over the eastern half of Talon Town where Night Sun’s chambers stood. Oh, how she longed to be sound asleep, curled in her blankets on a pile of soft sleeping mats. But that might never happen again.

When Night Sun reached the altar room connected to the kiva, she ducked low to enter through the T-shaped doorway, then bowed reverently to the thlatsinas painted on the walls. They looked fierce, their fangs bared, the bows and arrows in their hands poised to kill. Their gaudy inhuman masks shone dimly in the firelight streaming from the kiva.

She turned to the staircase that led down and fought the desire to pant. She forced herself to take deep even breaths.

Ironwood came up behind her shoulder and whispered, “Face them as an innocent woman. You can do it. You must. Go on, Night Sun.”

She descended the stairs with her chin up, her expression inscrutable. Voices murmured below. Night Sun stepped into the firelit warmth of the ceremonial chamber and turned to the elders sitting in a line on the lowest bench, the yellow one. Only the leaders had come: hunch-backed Moon Bright from Kettle Town, old man Whistling Bird from Streambed Town, diminutive Weedblossom from Center Place. A tiny, white-braided woman, Weedblossom suffered from the knotted-joint disease, and her hands looked like gnarled claws. She sat between Moon Bright and Whistling Bird.

Moon Bright’s silver hair hung loose over her yellow dress. Beautiful red-and-black geometric designs covered the bodice and sleeves. Despite her deep wrinkles, her sharp eyes missed nothing. She tenderly patted Weedblossom’s leg and said something softly.

Whistling Bird frowned at them. His bald head shone orange in the firelight. Polished circlets of clamshell shimmered over his blue shirt. He didn’t hear very well and wore a perpetual frown as a result of concentrating so hard on people’s voices.

Night Sun heard Sternlight’s distinctive steps on the stairs, followed by several other people.

He entered wearing a fresh white robe and a turquoise pendant. He had pulled his hair away from his face into a bun at the back of his head. He glanced briefly at Ironwood, who stood to the right of the stairs, then bowed to the esteemed elders and strode to the pillar, which stood twenty hands in front of Ironwood, where he turned and clasped his hands.

Snake Head came down the stairs next, thumping a stick on each step. He emerged with a gloating smile on his handsome face. A boy’s severed head had been impaled upon the shaft. The sight sickened Night Sun. The boy’s eyes had desiccated and sunken into the pits; his mouth hung open, the jaw set askew. But his face and long black hair had been freshly washed and glistened in the firelight.

Snake Head paraded back and forth in front of the elders, before going to stand by the northwestern pillar, the one nearest Ironwood. The copper bells on his black shirt tinkled as he spread his legs. His black braid draped his left shoulder.

Dune plodded down the stairs, grunting each time his feet landed. When he stepped to the hard-packed dirt floor, he took Ironwood’s arm to steady himself and looked around. His bushy white brows plunged down over his round nose.

Night Sun smiled. All of the other holy people had dressed in their finest jewelry and garments, but Dune wore the same tattered brown shirt he’d worn for many summers. How like the old hermit to comment on these shabby proceedings without saying a word.

Dune’s sparse white hair gleamed as he glanced at Night Sun, then hobbled over to sit beside Whistling Bird. Whistling Bird leaned over and said something, and when Dune answered, Whistling Bird’s lips moved in time, trying to keep up with the words.

Night Sun did not wait to be instructed. She crossed the chamber to the body lying beneath the turquoise-studded blanket on the eastern foot drum.

“Mother!” Snake Head exploded. “I did not give you permission to look upon my dead sister!”

“I didn’t ask your permission.”

Night Sun gently turned down the blanket to look at Cloud Playing. Her pale face had been rubbed with oil and shone in the firelight. Someone, probably Sternlight, had carefully braided and coiled her hair on top of her head. Tears constricted Night Sun’s throat. She lifted a trembling hand to touch her daughter’s cold cheek. “Oh, my baby,” she whispered. “I miss you so much.”

“Mother—!” Snake Head began.

“Wait,” Sternlight broke in. “Give her a few more moments.” His turquoise wolf pendant gleamed against his white shirt.

The elders whispered.

Night Sun kissed Cloud Playing’s forehead and tenderly pulled the blanket back up.

You mustn’t let them see your grief or fear.

Turning, Night Sun strode across the chamber and reached out to greet each elder, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “Hello, Moon Bright. It’s so good to see you.”

“I feared you might have withered in that Cage,” Moon Bright said sympathetically. “I am heartened to see you so well.”

Night Sun reached for the great holy woman of Center Place. “Weedblossom, you look very lovely tonight.”

The little old woman took Night Sun’s hand in a gentle grip and said, “I’m here for you, girl. I want to hear your side.”

Night Sun bent and lightly kissed Weedblossom’s wrinkled cheek, murmuring, “Thank you.”

When she reached for Whistling Bird’s hand, he patted her fingers affectionately. “Are you well, cousin?”

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.”

He gestured to the stairs, and followed her as she headed for the ladder that led to her fourth-story chamber.

*   *   *

Two hands of time later, they lay twined in each other’s arms atop her sleeping mats. The night’s chill slowly drained the heat from Ironwood’s body, and he tightened his hold on Night Sun.

What have I done? Ironwood thought. How did I let this happen?

Night Sun had her head tucked beneath his chin. He stroked her bare back slowly, letting the softness of her skin ease his inner ache. Starlight fell in a cool veil over their naked bodies.

Tell her. Do it now. If the world is coming unraveled as fast as you fear it is, you might never have another chance.

“Night Sun?”

“Hmm?” she answered sleepily.

“I never stopped loving you.”

She lifted her head and her long graying black hair tumbled around him. She’d never heard him say it before. Pain shimmered in her eyes; the intensity of it frightened him—as it had those long summers ago just before she’d told him she could never see him again. “Ironwood, I…”

When her voice faltered, he said, “You don’t have to tell me you love me, Night Sun. I didn’t expect that. I only wanted to tell you. I’ve said it so often in my dreams, I had to hear it aloud. Just once.”

She brushed hair behind her ears and let out a breath. “The day that I say it, Ironwood, is the day we will have to leave Talon Town and give up the entire Straight Path nation. You realize that, don’t you? We could never openly be together. Not here. Not anywhere among our people.”

“Yes, I realize that.”

“Are you willing to give up everything?”

He smiled. “I have nothing without you, Night Sun.”

Slowly, she lay her head down again, and ran slender fingers over his arm, tracing the swells of muscles. In a bare whisper, she said, “Forgive me, Ironwood.”

He stared at the starlight reflecting from the black creosote that coated the ceiling poles. It formed a weave of tiny shimmering diamonds.

He nodded against her hair. “I always have.”