Beargrass didn’t say anything for a while, but placed his hands on Thistle’s shoulders and peered deeply into her eyes. “If I agree to this, will you agree to let me send a runner to Talon Town to see what’s happening there? To keep us informed about the Chief’s health?”
Cornsilk waited breathlessly for her answer. Her brother’s arm trembled where it lay over her shoulders.
“Yes,” her mother said, “all right.”
Beargrass heaved a breath. “Thank you, my wife. Now, let us prepare. We must hire someone to go to Talon Town. Someone we can trust to rush back with the news if Crow Beard dies.”
Fledgling lowered his head. “I think it’s me,” he said. “I’m not your brother.”
“You will always be my brother,” she began, but her mother’s strained voice made Cornsilk hush.
“Who can we trust, Beargrass?”
Her father smoothed a hand over his chin. “Young Stone Forehead, maybe. At seventeen summers, he is already a respected warrior. Let me speak with him. The Blessed thlatsinas know we have enough rare trade goods to pay him well for his loyalty.”
Her parents moved out of sight of the window, and Cornsilk turned to Fledgling. His face had gone dark.
“Why didn’t they ever tell me?” he whispered. “I am almost a man, Cornsilk. They should have told me! I—I would like to know my real parents! Who is my mother? And where is she? If I knew, I would go to her now, this instant!”
Cornsilk’s thoughts darted about like bees, landing here and there. Four turkeys waddled across the plaza behind a child dragging a yucca cord. They kept pecking at the cord and each other, and squawking in dismay. “Fledgling, do you recall three nights ago, when the runners arrived?”
“Yes. Father said they brought news of raiding.”
“I know, but I was sick and not sleeping very well, and I heard him say something different.”
He stared wide-eyed at her. “What? Something about us?”
“I think so. At the time, I paid it no attention, because it didn’t make any sense, but now … Fledgling, I woke when Father said that the runners had come to warn him and Mother that if the Chief died, the payments would stop coming.”
“Payments? What payments?”
“Well, consider the beautiful things in our house. We have many more blankets, rare pots, and magnificent jewelry than anyone in the village. Where did they come from?”
Fledgling’s black brows pulled together. Behind him, a roadrunner darted through the sage, its neck stretched out, trying to grab a bug. “I thought they were payment for Mother’s work as a mason and tribute to Father as the War Chief of the village.”
“I did, too. But, after that, Mother said she didn’t care if the payments stopped coming, that the secret would die with them, and our family would be safe forever.”
“Safe from what?”
She pinned Fledgling with her gaze. “Someone they think wants to kill either you or me.”
“But if one of us is Ironwood’s child…” Fear twisted his expression. “Cornsilk, why would Chief Crow Beard pay for our parents to take care of Ironwood’s child?”
She gripped his wrist hard. “Perhaps that’s it.”
His face slackened. “You mean … I am not Ironwood’s son, but Crow Beard’s? And one of the Chief’s enemies fears that I might become the next Blessed Sun?”
Cornsilk made a disgusted sound. “Only if you came from Night Sun’s belly. She has a son much older than you. Snake Head must have seen twenty-three or twenty-four summers.”
The Straight Path clans traced lineage through the female, so when a man or woman died, all of his or her belongings were equally divided among the living daughters. The daughters then administered the lands, houses, and slaves, and gave a share of the remaining belongings—pots, shields, weapons, clothing—to the sons. The Matron of the First People, as a result, owned nearly everything and made all decisions except those regarding warfare. Men generally possessed little, but a Chief from the First People …
“Unless his mother marries again. Then she may declare her new husband the Chief. Though Snake Head would rule until Night Sun selected another.”
Cornsilk released his wrist and fiddled with a twig, shoving it across the sand with her finger. “What if … maybe I am the Chief’s daughter and will inherit part of the wealth of his kingdom, and someone wants to stop that from happening.”
“You wouldn’t inherit much,” Fledgling pointed out. “Night Sun owns everything. Chief Crow Beard has almost nothing without her, a few weapons, some trinkets. If you are Crow Beard’s daughter by another woman, you have no claims at all. Oh, they might feel sorry for you and grant you a pittance, but—”