“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Father Sun…” His voice broke. He kept silent for a moment, then finished, “He’s too weak to go on. He rose in the same place today. I—I feared as much.”
“Because it means you will have to run the east road, to give Father Sun the strength he needs to travel northward again?”
Sternlight bowed his head. Black hair tumbled over his shoulders, dancing in the wind. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.
“Elder?” she pressed.
He put a hand over his eyes.
Young Fawn took a step toward him. “Sternlight?”
“Blessed gods,” he choked out. “I can’t do it!”
Young Fawn walked in front of him and gazed up into his handsome face, now stricken with horror. “You are the greatest Sunwatcher ever to live. There is nothing you cannot do.”
“You do not understand! I…” He looked sharply to his right and seemed to be listening. His cries became pathetic. Sobbing, he answered, “Yes … I know. For the sake of all, it … must be done.”
Young Fawn glanced at the spot he’d spoken to. Nothing. Not even a ripple of light. Unnerved, she said, “I understand one thing, Elder: You are very weary. It will not hurt to rest for a time. Come. Lie down in the shelter of the rock. After you have slept you may attempt to run the road.” She extended a hand to him. “Let me help you.”
Sternlight squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. “I—I’m afraid.”
“But, Elder, you have run the east road many times. I’m sure Father Sun—”
He opened his eyes suddenly. “Do you really believe I’m evil? Isn’t that what you were thinking earlier?”
A well of cold grew in her stomach. She swallowed hard. It was said that sleep-makers read thoughts like tracks in snow. That nothing could be hidden from them. “No. No, of course not,” she said. “I was just—”
“But you do hate me.” He tilted his head and peered at her unblinking.
Young Fawn’s heart pounded. She deliberately misunderstood. “You mean because you weep out of fear? No, Elder. Anyone with sense would be frightened. Please. You will tire yourself even more, and Father Sun needs you to be strong.”
Hesitantly, Sternlight reached out and slipped a hand beneath her turkey-feather cape to touch her pregnant belly. Young Fawn froze, uncertain how to respond. The heat of his fingers penetrated her dress, warming her skin. The open cape flapped around her.
“Precious,” Sternlight said as he stroked the child. “So precious.”
“Elder, I do not—”
As though on the verge of vomiting, he grabbed his stomach and bent double, gasping, “Oh, blessed gods, give this task to another!”
“Let me help you! That’s why I’m here. Please, tell me what I may do to make the task easier.”
A curious expression entered his eyes. Not fear, not apology, but a man bracing himself for a burden he could barely conceive. He took several deep breaths, then slowly straightened.
Wind Baby shrieked through the canyon, and Young Fawn thought she could almost make out frantic words. As though enraged that she did not understand, Wind Baby shoved her hard. Young Fawn staggered forward.
Sternlight rose and blocked her path with his tall body. He extended his arms and let them hover for a moment, then he embraced her and boldly drew her against him. “Let me hold you for just a moment. I want to feel you close to me.”
Fear pumped in her veins. A curious smell clung to his white ritual shirt, musty, bitter, like the scent of a long-abandoned cave. “Sternlight, I do not think—”
He tightened his powerful arms, crushing her against his chest. “Stand still. Just don’t move.”
“But, Elder, you are hurting me. Please!”
He began sobbing again, terrible wrenching sobs that shook his whole body. He buried his face in her hair and his tears soaked her temple.
“I beg you,” he said. “Don’t fight me. I must do this thing quickly!”
He dropped his right hand to his belt. Against the gold of dawn, she glimpsed a deerbone dagger. “I need your baby, Young Fawn.”
“What are you talking about? Let me go!” She twisted madly, watching him raise the dagger over his head.
Ducking and kicking violently, she broke free and dashed across the ledge, hair flying, racing for the stairs. The morning’s gleam covered the dimpled sandstone like molten coral, shadowing every hollow and crack. She leaped over a hole and her foot slipped on ice, breaking her stride.
Sternlight’s body struck her, slamming her to the ground. She cried out as pain lanced through her pregnant belly. The Sunwatcher flipped her onto her back and stretched out on top of her.