People of the Silence(76)
“A boy?” the Chief rasped. “Or a … a girl?”
Sternlight stepped forward with the silent grace of a deer. He dropped to Night Sun’s side. “My chief,” he said softly as he gently tried to pry Crow Beard’s fingers from Night Sun’s hand. The Chief fought him, tightening his hold. “Night Sun is tired. She has not left your side—”
“I must know!” Crow Beard demanded. “Tell me, Night Sun, or gods help you … I—I will never leave this place. I will walk at your side every day for the rest of your life. I will kill you … over and over … in your dreams. You’ll never sleep without me beside you, never look upon the world without seeing me. I promise you, I will never give you peace—”
“Crow Beard!” Night Sun sobbed. “I beg you—”
“You must answer me, my wife. The child … may have a claim. If so, I have last duties … to perform.”
Snake Head suddenly lurched to his feet. The macaw feathers on his purple shirt shimmered in a rainbow of red, blue, and yellow. “A claim? On my pitiful share of the wealth! Father, are you saying my mother betrayed you? I mean, we’ve all heard the rumors, but I never believed them!”
Sternlight lifted his head and in a silken voice said, “Didn’t you?”
Snake Head’s eyes slitted. “What are you saying?”
Webworm stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Adultery was punishable by banishment—even death. The clans would go mad. A woman of the First People had never been found guilty of such a crime!
As though his strength had failed, Crow Beard’s hand fell back to his blankets with a soft thud. Night Sun quickly got to her feet and backed away, breathing hard, rubbing her wrist.
“Mother?” Snake Head demanded.
She shook her head. “He’s ill, my son. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Then you deny having a child by another man?”
“Yes, of course, I do!”
Crow Beard’s hands knotted in his blankets. “Ironwood? Must tell … Jay Bird’s brood. Where is Ironwood? I want my War Chief! Ironwood? Ironwood?”
As though terrified, Night Sun placed a hand over her mouth.
Snake Head chuckled darkly, and Night Sun jerked around to stare at him.
Webworm gave her a questioning look as he walked by, but she would not meet his eyes. He bent over the Chief’s bed. Crow Beard’s nostrils had pinched, as though he could not get enough air. “Ironwood is bringing Dune, my chief,” Webworm said. “I am Webworm, his deputy.”
“Closer…” Crow Beard’s eyes wandered, as if seeking him through some growing mist. “Closer.”
Webworm knelt. “What do you wish, my chief?”
An eerie gleam entered Crow Beard’s eyes. “My sister-in-law’s grandson … yes, I remember. You have always served me … loyally. Do you … do you realize that if … if a savior rises now … you have Fire Dog blood. Do you understand?”
Webworm frowned. “No, my chief. Try to tell me what you require of me. I will do anything you ask.”
Crow Beard reached out feebly and touched Webworm’s moccasin in trust. “I wish you to … to find the child,” he said. “Do you hear me? Find the child?”
“Yes, find the child. And after that?”
“K-Kill it.”
Night Sun blurted, “Crow Beard, for the sake of the gods! There is no child!”
Crow Beard fumbled at the leather fringes on Webworm’s moccasin. “Find the child,” he repeated. “You—you must … kill the child.”
Webworm lifted his head and fixed Night Sun with a hard look. “Where is the child?”
Night Sun folded her arms and hugged herself. “I have told you the truth, grand nephew. No child exists.”
Snake Head grabbed his mother’s sleeve and spun her around. His purple shirt contrasted with the deep red tones of her dress. “My father says you bore a child while he was away Trading. Where is it? Answer me!”
Night Sun’s expression changed from desperate worry to rage in less than a heartbeat. She slapped her son with all the strength in her slender body. “Do not ever speak to me that way again, my son.”
Snake Head’s mouth puckered into an enraged pout, but he backed away.
Webworm propped his hands on his hips. “What do you wish, Snake Head? If there is a child, we must learn where it is, or we cannot carry out the Blessed Sun’s order.”
Snake Head seemed to be weighing possibilities. “Creeper?” He turned to the fat little man with the jet black hair. “You are Elder of the Buffalo Clan. What are the wishes of your people? Whom do you believe?”