People of the Sea(9)
Each elder bowed his or her head as Kestrel went by. Did none of them doubt her guilt? Had she already been judged and sentenced without so much as a chance to defend herself? She’d grown up in their midst, loved them, relied on them
*
for guidance. Would they stand by and quietly watch her murdered?
As Kestrel neared the fire, she saw her grandmother, Willowstem, and then her mother, Owlwoman, standing half-hidden on the outskirts of the crowd. Though neither of them looked Kestrel’s way, she could see that tears traced lines down her mother’s lowered face.
“Mother?” Kestrel called as Tannin forced her along. “Mother … please?”
Owlwoman pressed a hand to her lips to keep them from trembling, but she said nothing.
“Bring her here!” Lambkill commanded. He paced near the flames, his arms crossed over his bony chest. Short gray braids hung to either side of his head, framing his flat nose and heavy jowls. He had passed forty-five summers. The orange light that danced across his lined face accentuated his age and flickered unnaturally in the quartz-crystal necklace that hung over his heart. He’d woven the crystal’s chain from strips of mammoth tendon—it was strong enough to pull a buffalo, he claimed. His triumphant black eyes sparkled darkly as Kestrel came forward.
Her heart pounded so hard that she thought it would burst the cage of her ribs. When she was twenty hands from Lambkill, a cruel smile bent his lips. He extended an arm northward. “Look! I’ve ended it!”
Kestrel turned, then stumbled when she saw Iceplant kneeling by the fire. He rocked back and forth, his handsome face in his hands. A long black braid hung over his right shoulder. She thought she could hear him Singing his Deathsong. The notes lilted like a horrifying lullaby.
No. Oh, no…
“Face your husband!” Tannin took Kestrel’s arm in a hurtful grip and forced her to look at Lambkill, who had dressed in his finest ceremonial shirt, made of smoked elk hide and tanned to a deep golden color. Red and yellow porcupine quills decorated the breast and sleeves, while rain-soaked feathers drooped mournfully around his ears.
“So, you thought you could escape me,” Lambkill whispered savagely as he moved to only a handbreadth from Kestrel. His skin had bronzed so deeply from long days on the trading trails that it resembled desiccated leather. Thick wrinkles hung in folds down his neck and made bulges beneath his eyes.
Kestrel glared at him and braced her shaking knees.
People closed the circle around them, their eyes alert, listening, anxious for the final judgment to be rendered. A few of the young women whispered behind their hands and pointed to Kestrel’s belly. She heard someone say, “.. . at least eight moons along.”
The words enraged Lambkill. He let out a shrill cry and moved so fast that Kestrel didn’t have time to dodge. His blow struck her in the temple and knocked her, staggering, to one side. When she didn’t fall, he ruthlessly kicked her legs out from under her. She landed hard on the wet ground.
Iceplant shot to his feet, shouting, “No!” Tall and slender, he had soft brown eyes. His medicine pouch hung from a thong around his neck. Covered with Kestrel’s own red, black and white designs, it splashed the center of his wolf hide shirt with color. The long fringes on his pants swayed as he tentatively stepped forward. “Lambkill, you… you said you wouldn’t hurt her. You told me you’d just banish her!”
Horror pierced Kestrel’s heart. She stared dumbly at him, like an animal bashed in the head by a hunter’s club. Iceplant’s eyes tightened when he met Kestrel’s gaze, and blood began to surge sickeningly in her ears.
Feebly, she called, “Iceplant?”
“Kestrel, I—I didn’t know he’d do this to you. When he caught me, I swear, he told me—”
Lambkill swung around to Iceplant. “Stay out of this vqu coward. You’re as much to blame as she is.”
Iceplant stepped back. Kestrel stared blindly at him, an3 a dark abyss opened in her soul. No. Her lips formed the wml soundlessly. It can’t be. He would never betray me .
“Lambkill,” Iceplant called in a trembling voice. “Sunchaser says we shouldn’t beat our wives. He says that Wolfdreamer watches and listens. We must all—”
“Sunchaser!” Lambkill yelled. His wrinkled cheeks flushed with rage. “That young fool from the seacoast! He’s deranged! You haven’t started believing his delusions, have you?”-He glared out at the crowd, taking note of each expression, identifying the believers and the doubters. “What’s happened since I’ve been gone? Have you all been sucked into this madness about your ancestors coming back from the Land of the Dead? I just returned from the great northern lakes. The people there have heard of Sunchaser, but they don’t believe in his New Way! How can you? Do you really think that all the mammoths will return if you Sing the idiotic songs Sunchaser teaches? The Mammoth Spirit Dance is nonsense!”