People of the Silence(250)
“So will I.”
“Even though he murdered your mother?”
“I didn’t know her at all, Cornsilk.” Poor Singer took another bite of jerky. She clearly didn’t wish to speak about her father yet. He chewed slowly, giving her more time. The jerky had a tangy flavor he didn’t recognize, like cedar bark smoke mixed with phlox blossoms. “I’m still uncertain how to feel about Sternlight killing her to save me, but I know he did what he thought he had to. There is honor in that.” He glanced at her and found Cornsilk scooping the pine needles between her feet into a pile. “And the others?” he asked cautiously. “What has happened to them?”
“Your reaction to Sternlight’s murder seemed to temper Jay Bird’s anger. He freed Night Sun and Dune, though guards follow them wherever they go in the village.” She paused, her mouth open.
Fear charged his drained muscles. “And your father? Tell me about Ironwood.”
She sat quietly for several moments, watching the sky turn from pink to a rich shade of amber. Sunlight struck the highest peaks first, and the pockets of snow seemed to burn. Then, as Father Sun’s face peeked over the horizon, light flooded the lowlands, chasing away the last vestiges of night.
“Cornsilk.” His gut twisted. “Is your father still alive?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “When I left, he was still locked in the pen. But I’d heard rumors that Jay Bird was planning on sending guards to drag him out.” She knotted her fists. Cool fragrant breezes blew up from the meadow below them, tearing strands of black hair loose from her braid and fluttering them about her pretty face. “To begin torturing him.”
Poor Singer dragged her pack over, tucked the remaining food back inside, and tied the laces. Then he slipped his arm over Cornsilk’s shoulders. “Could you help me up? We need to leave now, and I’m not very strong.”
Cornsilk put an arm around his waist and hugged him tightly. “I’ll carry you all the way back, if necessary.”
Poor Singer rose on weak knees, and they began picking their way down the trail.
Fifty-One
Nauseated, trembling, Ironwood sagged in the arms of the guards who dragged him down the rocky trail. His knees raked the ground, leaving blood trails. They threw him into the plaza, facedown, and left him lying there. It took several moments before he could muster the strength to turn his head. Mogollon Fire Dogs crowded around him, forming an irregular circle. He couldn’t see them very well, except for their clothing. They had dressed in their finest for this grand event. The red, yellow, and blue fabrics tinkled with shell bells and glittered with polished stones. Ironwood blinked to clear his blurry vision. The crack on the skull he’d received just before Sternlight’s death had left him blind for … for how many days? Five? Six? His sight was returning slowly—not that it mattered. He would only need his physical eyes for a short time longer.
Rolling to his side, he tried to breathe. His entire body had become an open wound. They’d taken turns. Some of the villagers had stabbed him with sharp sticks; others had tied him down and used their stone knives to slowly slice open the muscles in his legs, arms, and on his face. Jay Bird never let them go too far. If the blood flowed profusely, he ordered it stanched with glowing stones. If Ironwood appeared thirsty, Jay Bird personally held a water jug to Ironwood’s lips. They’d kept him well-fed, to fortify his strength. They wanted him to live and suffer for as long as possible, believing that his pain would comfort all the friends, husbands, wives, and children whom Ironwood had killed.
He bowed his head and gazed at the tight leather thongs binding his bloody hands and feet. He did not fear death, not really. He had seen too much of it to be afraid. He knew its course, and its character. Indeed, at this point, he would see death as a friend.
He feared only the aftermath.
The Mogollon would make certain his soul did not reach the afterlife—just as they had with Sternlight’s. Jay Bird had forced Ironwood, Night Sun, and Dune to watch the burial. And though he hadn’t been able to see, Night Sun had told him what followed. The Fire Dogs had thrown Sternlight into a hole, covered him with a stone slab, and laughed. The news had withered Ironwood’s heart. All of his life, Sternlight had stood by him, helping him, covering for his errors. Sternlight had deserved better.
Neither of them would sit with their ancestors and discuss the old times, or hunt and fish to their hearts’ content. Jay Bird would assure that Ironwood’s soul remained locked in the earth for eternity, too, lost and wailing. He who had spent his life seeking the companionship of others, longing for it, would never enjoy it again.