Thirty-Seven

Night Sun stepped out onto the roof before sunrise. Her breath puffed white in the still, cold air. To the east, a turquoise band of light swelled over the dark canyon rim, but the arching dome of Brother Sky blazed with thousands of Evening People. The blocky silhouette of Kettle Town to the east was cast in deep blue, like a slumbering beast, where it crouched under the canyon wall.

A silver blanket of frost crystals covered Talon Town. Second moon weather could be very capricious, hot one day, freezing the next. Darkness usually brought deep cold.

Night Sun tugged her turkey-feather cape closed. The morning smelled of cedar fires. Slaves huddled around a bowl of glowing coals in the plaza, their hands extended for warmth. On the roof above the entry, Webworm stood guard, his black shape ghostly against the brightening sky.

Night Sun walked around the curving wall to the ladder that led up to the fifth story and Crow Beard’s chamber. As she climbed, her long braid flapped against her back. Pale blue light sheathed her triangular face and flashed from the coral-and-jet bracelet she wore on her right wrist.

When she stepped off onto the roof, and stood before the low T-shaped doorway that led into Crow Beard’s chamber, she took a deep breath. She hadn’t entered his chamber since his death.

A leather curtain draped the doorway, but around the edges, red light shone. Snake Head, she knew, had ordered the chamber sealed from all but Sternlight, who tended the ritual warming bowl that kept the chamber lit for her husband’s wandering ghost.

Night Sun ducked beneath the curtain and entered the chamber.

It seemed … benign.

For many summers she had entered that door with dread in her heart. How curious to feel no fear.

The thlatsinas Dancing around the walls filled her with awe, as they always had. The warming bowl sat in the middle of the floor and cast a crimson tint over fanged muzzles, huge open beaks, and bulging inhuman eyes. The gods watched her. Night Sun shivered. Was it her heart, or could she hear the eternal rhythmic thumping of their moccasined feet, as steady and faithful as the rising of Father Sun each morning?

She folded her arms beneath her cape and slowly walked about the room. Crow Beard’s sleeping mats lay in the same place, the gold-and-red blankets neatly spread, as though he might return at any moment to rest in them. On the wall over his mats, the Wolf Thlatsina stood, bent over, one foot lifted, long gray ears pricked, as if eager for the next beat of the pot drum and another step. The multitude of turquoise wolf figurines that surrounded the thlatsina glowed with a faint lavender sheen. As First Wolf had done, these figurines guided people through the underworlds to the blessings of the afterlife. Each was priceless. Some, among the Made People, would kill to own one.

Night Sun stood at the foot of Crow Beard’s mats and wondered what she should do with them. Though her son ruled Talon Town, she had the duty of distributing her dead husband’s belongings. Perhaps she would distribute the figurines between the matrons of the other towns in the canyon. Or, better yet, give them to the leaders of the Made People clans.

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.