“But I don’t understand why you would wish the boy dead. How could he possibly be a threat to you?”
Snake Head swirled the tea in his black-and-white cup. “My ‘wishes’ were not considered, Ironwood. It was my father’s last order.”
“And what of your mother? How long do you plan on keeping her imprisoned?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“I live here, Snake Head. Of course it is my concern. Don’t you realize that—”
“I realize everything that I need to, Ironwood!” Snake Head spun and crouched, suddenly looking like his namesake. “Now, leave!”
Ironwood impassively crossed his arms again. “Every moment that she’s locked up, the people grow more restless. I don’t believe you’re prepared to put down a revolt, Snake Head—not with your War Chief and thirty of your best warriors away on a raid.”
Snake Head glared.
“Please,” Ironwood pleaded, “listen to me. The people have stopped protesting in the plaza, but all that means is that they are at home, whispering over supper, telling each other everything they know and wondering what the truth is. If you don’t end this soon, the people will fill the gaps with speculation and create a whole new story. One that could tear this place apart.”
Snake Head brusquely sat down on the mat before his supper platter. He picked up a horn spoon and half a melon, and began eating. Their people buried melons, eggs, and certain types of gourds in deep piles of sand to preserve them through the cold winter. The melons grew sweeter, and the flesh of the gourds didn’t dry out as fast. Eggs would last seven or eight moons kept that way.
Ironwood shrugged. “If it comes to that, they’ll tear you down along with Talon Town. Is that what you want?”
Snake Head spooned more of the melon into his mouth and chewed, making no attempt to answer.
Ironwood sighed and gazed out the doorway.
As darkness settled over the desert, the jagged edges of the cliffs smoothed, and the color drained from the world. Evening People crowded the clear sky. Ironwood studied them and inhaled a breath of the cool breeze that roamed the canyon. It smelled of dry grass and dust. Once, it would have been tinged with the perfume of sage. The far-off whimpers of coyotes drifted in with the wind. No wonder the land was tired and refused to produce anymore.
“Did you know that my mother was a whore?” Snake Head asked.
For a long moment, Ironwood refused to take his gaze from the Evening People, then he looked back at Snake Head. The youth had finished his melon and picked up his teacup again. He had an odd expression on his face, curious, or testing.
“I pay no attention to gossip, Snake Head. I never have.”
“Well, it’s just that I know how often you talk with the slaves of Talon Town, and such vile people chatter. I thought perhaps you had overhead one of them—”
“No.”
Snake Head rose and walked toward Ironwood. A silver sheen of torchlight flowed into the folds of his buckskin shirt. The shells on his sandals clicked. He stopped one body-length away and cocked his head. “So you really have no idea who the father of my misbegotten half-brother is?”
“No idea.”
A secret smile, taunting and promising, curled Snake Head’s lips. “That is all I have to say to you, Ironwood. For now.” He walked back to his supper platter and picked up a cold corn-cake. “You may go.”
“Your new War Chief will see that the child is killed. You will have fulfilled your duty to your father. What use is it to keep your mother imprisoned? It only stokes the anger—”
“And what do you suggest I do, former War Chief? Let her go? She betrayed my father!”
Ironwood clenched his fists and stepped toward Snake Head. A crawling sensation had invaded his gut. Fear flashed in Snake Head’s eyes before he regained control of himself, and the new Chief haughtily lifted his chin.
“If that’s true, Snake Head, then your duty now is to decide her fate quickly. For the sake of your people. Either banish her, or kill her. But be done with it.”
An odd gleam lit Snake Head’s dark eyes. He bit into his corncake and chewed while he searched Ironwood’s face. Looking for … what?
“I think I shall kill her,” Snake Head announced emotionlessly, crumbs sticking to his lips. “Yes, that will resolve the problem.”
“Then do it.”
Snake Head held Ironwood’s fiery gaze for several instants. “I’ve never trusted you or your judgment, Ironwood.”
“That’s unfortunate. Your father did.”
“Yes. I know.” He laughed softly. “But then he never knew about my mother’s fondness for you.”