“As you please.”
“Gracious of you, Matron.” He tipped the teapot up, and poured the last drop into his cup. “Well, this is a long story. A very long—”
“Then get started, Cornhusk.”
He looked askance at her. “Yes, well. You have heard, I’m sure, that Jumping Badger attacked Paint Rock Village?”
“Yes.”
A sad look creased his face. “I’m sorry to tell you that he killed your friend Briar-of-the-Lake.”
Her chest tightened. She had loved Briar, more than she would admit to anyone, even herself. Though Paint Rock and Earth Thunderer villages moved several times a season, they had always been relatively close together. As a child, Briar had taken advantage of that, running the distance like a fleet-footed deer, to curl up in Dust’s lap and confide her childish secrets. Then, after Rumbler’s birth, Briar had come to live with Dust and Sparrow. The girl had needed a refuge from her frightened clan, and Dust had given her one. Those two winters had been happy ones in Dust’s life. They had spent a great deal of time together, laughing and talking—and watching Rumbler. In many ways, she thought of him as her own son. His smile lived in her heart, alongside those of her other children.
They hadn’t known until Rumbler started walking that something was different about him. His arms and legs didn’t seem to be growing. Dust had tried feeding him every Power herb she knew, but it hadn’t helped. When they’d finally realized he’d been touched by Falling Woman’s hand, they’d both worked even harder, guiding and protecting him. Before he’d seen two winters, his Power had started to blossom. Everyone could feel it. When Rumbler tottled by, his round face alight, the hair on the backs of people’s arms stood on end.
After Flintboy died, Dust’s friendship with Briar fell apart. She had done so much for Briar, risked so much for her, and the one time Dust had truly required Briar’s help, she had refused to come. Then, when Dust moved Sparrow’s belongings out of her lodge, Briar came to see her to plead Sparrow’s case, begging Dust to take him back. He loves you so much, Briar had said.
Dust frowned down into her teacup. The pale green liquid looked golden against the wood. The night that Flintboy died, Dust had needed Sparrow desperately. But Sparrow had risen from their robes, left their lodge, and disappeared into the darkness. He’d stayed gone for eighty-three days. She had grieved alone, her despair made worse by her worry over Sparrow. The night he returned, he’d danced about the village, spouting incomprehensible things about a Spirit Helper from the Up-Above-World, a god disguised as a little boy. The people in Earth Thunderer Village had watched his antics fearfully. Dust had not known what to think. Had Sparrow taken Flintboy’s death harder than she’d thought? Some women who lost sons went mad. Perhaps that had happened to Sparrow? She’d coddled him. She’d listened to him. She’d pleaded, and shouted, and begged Sparrow to come to his senses, to take their lives and clan business seriously, again. But he’d patiently explained that he couldn’t. His Spirit Helper had shown him another path. From now on, Dust, Power will often need me more than you do.
Dust sipped her tea. For two winters those words had been eating her from the inside out.
Briar had maintained that if Dust would just get to know Sparrow’s Spirit Helper, she might like him. She remembered her own response: “Have you been bitten by a foaming-mouth dog?”
“How did Briar die?” Dust asked.
“You don’t want to hear. Trust me. You know Jumping Badger. He’s a monster.”
“I do want to hear, or I would not have asked.”
“Very well, but remember that you can’t always believe things Jumping Badger says. The man is a notorious liar. Be that as it may, he claims that while his warriors raced through Paint Rock Village, killing and setting fires, he took two men to Briar’s house. He found her inside, clutching the dwarf boy to her breast. She begged him not to hurt the False Face Child. Offered him anything if he would just let the boy live. But Jumping Badger tore the boy from her arms, threw the child like a sack of nuts to his warriors, and ordered them out of the house.” Cornhusk smiled grimly. “Then Jumping Badger forced Briar down. He raped her while the whole of Paint Rock Village was burning around them! Can you believe that? Jumping Badger astounds even me!” Cornhusk’s eyes had dilated, as if the story excited him. “Then,” he said, and casually waved a hand, “he clubbed her to death.”
Dust clutched her cup more tightly. “How do you know that last part? If there were no warriors to witness the act—”