People of the Silence(91)
“I do understand! You and Sternlight—”
“No.” He held up his hand and slowly curled the fingers into a fist. “Please!” Anguish twisted his handsome face. “This is hard, Night Sun, after all these summers.”
“Yes, it is, Ironwood. For you … and me.” She sank back against the wall, lowered her head and tugged at her blankets.
Ironwood shifted to sit cross-legged before her, his knees less than a handsbreadth from her sandals. They had not been this close in many summers. “Night Sun, you were all I ever wanted—and were worth everything to me. But I knew you well, my friend. Long before you told me, I realized I had lost you. That little girl was the one thing I had left of ‘us.’ I couldn’t take the chance that Crow Beard might kill our daughter.”
He frowned at the moisture running down the wall to his left. His shoulder muscles contracted from the strain, swelling beneath the thin red fabric of his shirt.
Night Sun stared at him.
Their gazes held, his pleading, hers stunned.
Night Sun tried to swallow, and it hurt. “Ironwood, would you hand me the water jug?”
He drew it from his pack, removed the wooden stopper, and handed it to her. The black-and-white lightning spirals decorating the base blazed in the stargleam.
Night Sun took a long drink, and then another. The liquid tasted earthy and cold. She sank back against the wall and drank more. She’s alive. After all these summers of mourning.
“Does … does she know about me? I mean, that I’m her mother?”
“It was better that she knew nothing about either of us. As far as I know, she thinks the people she grew up with are her parents.”
“Will you…?” Night Sun set the water on the floor. “Ironwood, I have something I wish to ask of you.”
“What?”
“In my personal chamber there is a blue-and-white basket. It is filled with things that I cherish. Please, speak to Cloud Playing. Explain to her that I wish all of those things to be divided equally between her and…” She blinked. “What is our daughter’s name?”
“Cornsilk.”
“Cornsilk.” She tried it on her tongue. My daughter.… “Between her and Cornsilk. And of course the lands must be divided. I will leave the rest to Cloud Playing. She’s generous and kind. She will know what to do.”
Ironwood’s jaw hardened at her defeated tone. “Have you given up already? Without even a fight? I have a plan, Night Sun. We must think of how to—”
“Wait,” she interrupted. Reluctantly, he closed his mouth and sat back, listening. “You know as well as I that the child will be proof that I betrayed the Blessed Sun.”
“Yes, but—” Ironwood reached out to touch her shoulder.
“No, don’t touch me! Don’t make it harder for me than it already is! I—I don’t need … hope … from you. I need your promise!”
His hand hovered a moment, then drew back. “I will speak with Cloud Playing.”
Night Sun saw the hurt in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ironwood. I’m frightened and confused. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“I know.”
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with Cloud Playing. And now … you should go. You’ve been here far too long. Even your loyal Blue Corn may grow suspicious.”
Ironwood rose and looked down at her, arms hanging limply at his sides. Starlight flowed into the wrinkles of his face. “Before I leave, I have something to ask of you, Night Sun.”
She looked up. “What is it?”
His turquoise pendant flashed as he took a breath. “Promise me…” He paused as though uncertain how to say it. “Promise me that you won’t take her away from me. You have had so much, Night Sun, and I have had so little. I need my daughter.”
He stood poised between silver walls and shining stars, his graying hair glinting; it occurred to her how much he must have suffered for nearly sixteen summers, knowing he had a child, longing to hold her and never able to. That little girl must have grown up in his heart and imagination—while she’d been dead to Night Sun.
“I will do whatever you wish, Ironwood.”
“Thank you, Blessed Night Sun.”
Then he turned and climbed the ladder. When he replaced the roof cover, he left it slightly ajar. Night Sun stared at the starlight that arced across the far wall like a slash of blue-white paint.
He spoke quietly to Blue Corn, then his steps faded.
She leaned her head back against the wall and breathed.
* * *
Warm rain fell.
Ironwood pulled his red cotton cape closed and tipped his face to the drizzle. He crouched in his old familiar place outside the dead Chief’s chamber where, over the summers, he had worn a hollow in the sun-hardened clay plaster. His soul hurt from seeing Night Sun. He could not get her out of his thoughts. He had to do something, but had no idea of what. Though some warriors obeyed his commands, he had no real power here. Not anymore.