People of the Silence(77)

Creeper gave Webworm a pleading look. For many summers, Creeper had been like a father to Webworm, teaching him the things a boy should know, telling him the ritual stories. Creeper was the only other person in the world who understood and loved Featherstone. And Featherstone loved Night Sun. Webworm knew this was a terrible trial for Creeper—deciding the fate of Featherstone’s aunt.

Creeper flapped his arms helplessly. “We must know. If there is a child, then we—”

“We must force her to tell us!” Badgerbow shouted. He clenched his teeth and glowered at Night Sun. She met his gaze squarely, her eyes blazing. Badgerbow said, “The order to find the child may have been Crow Beard’s last. We are obligated to carry it out!”

Webworm said, “When the people discover this, they will go wild. No woman of the First People has ever been caught in such a crime. Oh, some will demand her execution, but most—”

“Most will defend her,” Sternlight said as he walked in front of Night Sun, standing between her and her accusers. Shining waist-length hair draped the front of his ritual shirt.

Night Sun placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t,” she whispered to him. Sternlight turned halfway round to look into her eyes. As though exchanging some silent secret knowledge, they stared at each other for a long moment, then Night Sun hoarsely murmured, “Don’t endanger yourself. I never meant for this to happen. Not to you. Not after all you have—”

“Hush!” Sternlight ordered. “Do not speak another word!”

Creeper and Badgerbow edged forward, breathlessly awaiting the outcome of this private conversation. Snake Head, too, seemed rapt. He stood like a stone statue, his large dark eyes wide. One of the copper bells on his right sleeve caught the sunlight and projected a tiny gleaming star on the wall.

Night Sun returned to Crow Beard’s side and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest.

Timidly, Creeper asked, “Sternlight? We are waiting. What should we do? You are Sunwatcher. It is your duty to advise us on moral matters. If Night Sun is guilty, she must be punished. Banished, or—”

“Or killed,” Snake Head said. “And if there is a child, it, too, must be killed, as my father ordered.”

“Perhaps—” Sternlight’s voice came low, insistent. He seemed to be searching desperately. “Perhaps, Night Sun might be spared, if you knew the location and identity of the child.”

Night Sun jerked around. “What are you talking about?”

Snake Head shot her a glance, then tipped his chin toward Sternlight. “Possibly, but I doubt she will confess—”

“I will tell you.” Sternlight swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“You?” Webworm asked. “How would you know?”

No one seemed to be breathing. Creeper and Badgerbow both peered unblinking at Sternlight.

Only Night Sun moved. She rose on trembling legs and said, “Sternlight? What are you saying?”

“Please,” Sternlight hissed, “trust me.”

“But what are you saying? You told me—”

“Yes, I know I did, but—”

“She’s guilty!” Snake Head pointed a condemning finger. “I knew it! My mother betrayed my father! She deserves to die for this! This will shame all First People! Hallowed gods, the taint will last for generations. Even my children will bear the blame! Oh, Mother, how could you do this to me?”

Sternlight’s face mottled with rage. He stalked to stand face-to-face with Snake Head. Snake Head leaned backward slightly, obviously frightened.

Webworm’s spine tingled. Not once in forty-one summers had he seen his cousin angry. No, Sternlight moved through life like dandelion seed held aloft on a breeze, looking down at people and events, never becoming involved. What had happened those many summers ago that would evoke such behavior today?

In a hoarse whisper, Sternlight said, “I will tell you only once, Snake Head. The boy lives at Lanceleaf Village. He is the son of—”

“A boy?” Snake Head shouted. “He will demand a share of my wealth! In Lanceleaf Village? Isn’t that where—”

“Yes,” Sternlight answered, “where Beargrass, son of Black Rock Woman, took his wife and children almost sixteen summers ago.”

Night Sun shook her head, apparently just as stunned by the words as everyone else in the room. “No,” she said. “No, Sternlight. You—you’re lying! Why are you saying this?”

Webworm glanced back and forth between them. Stern-light’s expression silently begged Night Sun to say no more, and Webworm’s hand crept to the deerbone stiletto on his belt. He had not seen Beargrass in summers, but he still considered him a friend. They had fought many battles together. “Blessed gods,” he whispered.