search is going. You haven’t found this wayward wife of yours yet?”
Lambkill waved a hand carelessly. “It’s only a matter of time. We know she’s headed for the coast. She–”
“How do you know that?” Staghorn demanded. His ancient eyes narrowed to slits.
Completely taken aback, Tannin leaned forward to make a hot reply, but Lambkill put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back. In a soft voice, Lambkill responded, “Forgive me, elder. I meant to say that we ‘believe’ she is headed for the coast. That’s where her lover’s family came from. We think she mistakenly believes that his mother’s clan will shelter her from us.”
Tannin peered at Nighthawk. The young Trader had clamped his jaw so tightly that it looked malformed. His gaze kept darting from one person to the next, as if waiting to see which way the wind would blow before he revealed his own thoughts. Tannin decided that there were a lot of people he’d rather be stranded in the desert with than Nighthawk.
Lambkill spread his arms wide in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t understand, Staghorn. Why are you being so unfriendly? What have I done to you?”
Staghorn brought up one knee and propped a reed like arm atop it. “Tell me about your wife, Lambkill. What has she done to you?” Lambkill bowed his head and hesitated for a moment. His voice came out pained. “She committed incest, elder. With her cousin. While I was gone trading, she bedded him in my own lodge.”
Staghorn lifted his chin haughtily. “And if I say I don’t believe you?” “I speak the truth, elder. Why wouldn’t you believe me?”
“Lambkill.” Nighthawk bent forward and licked his lips. “We have had news.”
“What news? You have seen her?”
“Well, perhaps. We’re not sure. Our people did not ask for her name, but yesterday…” He paused to glance at
Staghorn, and the old man nodded. Nighthawk continued. “Yesterday four people from this village returned home talking about having seen a woman and a tiny baby. A newborn.”
Lambkill shrugged nonchalantly. “So? How many women with newborn babies are there on the coast? Eh? It could have been anyone.”
“I don’t think so,” Nighthawk said and sat back. He tugged at a ragged fringe on his pant leg. “It wasn’t the woman who mattered as much as who she was traveling with.”
Lambkill sat completely still, and Tannin almost burst before Lambkill asked, “Who was she with?”
Nighthawk went silent, yielding to Staghorn. The old man fixed Lambkill with a glassy stare. He said in a prayerful way: “Sunchaser.”
Lambkill’s nostrils flared. “And you think it was my wife?”
“No one had ever seen her before,” Staghorn said. “My people know everyone within a ten-day walk of here.”
Lambkill nodded. “Did they give you a description of her?”
“Yes,” Nighthawk answered. “They said she was very beautiful, although very slender, a small woman. She had waist-length black hair, an oval face, big eyes and full lips. A healing scar crosses her forehead. Like so. She carried her baby in a rabbit-fur sack on her back.”
Tannin felt Lambkill go rigid, but his brother showed no signs of tension. Lambkill tilted his head obligingly. “This woman does sound like Kestrel. Why was she with Sunchaser?”
“No one knows. That’s the problem. He’s a Dreamer. He’s not supposed to spend time with women!” Nighthawk shouted the last and quickly looked around, as though he’d surprised himself. “It has me very upset,” he said. “Who could even think of trying to capture her when she’s with a man like Sunchaser? Only a fool would challenge him.”
Lambkill’s eyes gleamed. “Which way were they going?”
“They—”
Staghorn broke in, “Our people couldn’t say.”
Lambkill eyed Staghorn unpleasantly. “It doesn’t matter. We will look up and down the coast until we’ve found her.”
“Then you have a long way to go and had best be on your way.” Staghorn rose on rickety legs. “You are not welcome in our village, Trader Lambkill. I ask that you and your brother respect our wishes and leave as soon as possible.” Staghorn hobbled back to his lodge and ducked beneath the door flap.
People throughout the village murmured and returned to their duties, ignoring Lambkill and Tannin as though they didn’t exist. Women gathered silently around the cook fires, children raced out to chase the dogs, and men returned to their places in front of the lodges, where they smoked pipes or threw out dice crafted from the wrist-joint bones of deer. Conversations and laughter slowly rose again, but at least one person in every group kept watch on Lambkill and Tannin.