Plains of Passage (118 page)

“I’m surprised all he broke was one leg,” Jondalar said, looking up at the top of the wall.

“Clan bones are very heavy,” Ayla said, “and thick. They don’t break very easily.”

“Those men didn’t have to be so rough with me,” Yorga commented, with signs. “I would have assumed the position if they had given me the signal, and if I hadn’t heard his scream. I knew something was very wrong then.”

She continued with the story. Several men attacked Guban, while three tried to force Yorga. From his scream of pain, she knew something was wrong with Guban, so she tried to get away from the men. That’s when the other two held her down. Then suddenly Jondalar was there, hitting the men of the Others, and the wolf jumped at them and was biting them.

She looked at Ayla slyly. “Your man is very tall, and his nose is very small, but when I saw him there fighting the other men, this woman could think of him as a child.”

Ayla looked puzzled, and then she smiled.

“I didn’t quite understand what she said, or what she meant,” Jondalar said.

“She made a little joke.”

“A joke?” he said. He didn’t think they were capable of making jokes.

“What she said, more or less, is that even though you are an ugly man, when you came to her rescue, she could have kissed you,” Ayla said, then explained to Yorga.

The woman looked embarrassed, but glanced toward Jondalar, then looked again at Ayla. “I am grateful to your tall man. Perhaps, if the child I carry is a boy, and if Guban will allow me to suggest a name, I will say to him, Dyondar is not such a bad name.”

“That wasn’t a joke, was it, Ayla?” Jondalar said, surprised at the sudden rush of feeling.

“No, I don’t think that was a joke, but she can only suggest, and it could be a difficult name for a boy of the Clan to grow up with because it’s unusual. Guban might be willing, though. He’s exceptionally open to new ideas, for a man of the Clan. Yorga told me about their mating, and I think they fell in love, which is quite rare. Most matings are planned and arranged.”

“What makes you think they fell in love?” Jondalar asked. He was interested in hearing a Clan love story.

“Yorga is Guban’s second woman. Her clan lives quite far from here, but he went there to bring word of a large Clan Gathering, and plans to discuss us, the Others. Charoli bothering their women, for one thing—I told her about the Losadunai plans to put a stop to them—but if I understand it right, some group of Others have approached a couple of clans about some trading.”

“That’s a surprise!”

“Yes. Communication is the biggest problem, but men of the Clan, including Guban, don’t trust the Others. While Guban was visiting the distant clan, he saw Yorga, and she saw him. Guban wanted her, but the reason he gave was to establish closer ties with some of the distant clans, so they could share news, particularly about all these new ideas. He brought her back with him! Men of the Clan don’t do that. Most of them would have made an intention known to the leader, returned and discussed it with his own clan, and given his first woman a chance to get used to the idea of sharing her hearth with another woman,” Ayla said.

“The first woman at his hearth didn’t know? That’s a brave man,” Jondalar said.

“His first woman had two daughters; he wants a woman who will make a son. Men of the Clan put great store in the sons of their mates, and, of course, Yorga hopes the baby she is carrying will be the boy he wants. She has had some trouble getting used to the new clan—they’ve been slow to accept her—and if Guban’s leg doesn’t heal properly, and he loses status, she’s afraid they will blame her.”

“No wonder she seemed so upset.”

Ayla refrained from mentioning to Jondalar that she had told Yorga she was on her way to her man’s home, away from her people, too. She didn’t see any reason to add to his worries, but she was still concerned about how his people would accept her.

Ayla and Yorga both wished it was possible to visit with each other and share their experiences. They felt they were almost kin, since there was probably a kinship debt between Guban and Jondalar, and Yorga felt closer to Ayla, in the brief time they had known each other, than to any of the other women she had met. But Clan and Others didn’t visit.

Guban woke up in the middle of the night, but he was still groggy. By morning he was alert, but reaction to the stresses of the previous day left him exhausted. When Jondalar ducked his head in the tent in the afternoon, Guban was surprised at how glad he was to see the tall man, but he didn’t know what to make of the crutches he held.

“I use same thing after lion attack me,” Jondalar explained. “Help me walk.”

Guban was suddenly interested and wanted to try them, but Ayla would not allow it. It was too soon. Guban finally acquiesced, but only after announcing that he would try them the next day. In the evening, Yorga let Ayla know that Guban wanted to talk to Jondalar about some very important matters and was requesting her help with translation. She knew it was serious, guessed what it was about, and talked to Jondalar in advance so she could help him to understand what the difficulties might be.

Guban was still concerned about owing a kinship debt to Ayla, beyond the acceptable medicine woman spirit exchange, since she helped save his life using a weapon.

“We need to convince him that the debt is owed to you, Jondalar. If you tell him that you are my mate, you could tell him that since you have responsibility for me, any debts owed to me are actually owed to you.”

Jondalar agreed, and after some preliminaries to establish procedures, they began the more serious discussion. “Ayla is my mate, she belongs to me,” he said, while Ayla translated with the full range of subtleties. “I am responsible for her, debts owed to her are owed to me.” Then, to her surprise, Jondalar added, “I, too, have an obligation that weighs on my spirit. I owe a kinship debt to the Clan.”

Guban was curious.

“The debt has weighed heavily on my spirit because I haven’t known how to repay it.”

“Tell me about it,” Guban signed. “Perhaps I can help.”

“I was attacked by a cave lion, as Ayla mentioned. Marked, chosen by the Cave Lion, which is now my totem. It was Ayla who found me. I
was near death, and my brother, who was with me, already walked the spirit world.”

“I am sorry to hear that. It is hard to lose a brother.”

Jondalar only nodded. “If Ayla had not found me, I, too, would be dead, but when Ayla was a child, and near death, the Clan took her in and raised her. If the Clan had not taken Ayla in when she was a child, she would not have lived. If Ayla had not lived and been taught to heal by a Clan medicine woman, I would not be alive. I would be walking in the next world now. I owe my life to the Clan, but I don’t know how to pay that debt, or to whom.”

Guban nodded with great sympathy. It was a serious problem and a large debt.

“I would make a request of Guban,” Jondalar continued. “Since Guban owes a kinship debt to me, I ask him to accept my kinship debt to the Clan in exchange.”

The man of the Clan considered the request gravely, but he was grateful to learn of the problem. Exchanging a kinship debt was far more acceptable than simply owing his life to a man of the Others, and giving him a piece of his spirit. Finally he nodded. “Guban will accept the exchange,” he said, feeling great relief.

Guban took his amulet from around his neck and opened it. He shook the contents into his hand and picked out one of the objects, a tooth, one of his own first molars. Though he had no cavities, his teeth were worn down in a peculiar way, mainly because he used them as a tool. The tooth in his hand was worn, but not nearly so badly as his permanent teeth.

“Please accept this as a token of kinship,” Guban said.

Jondalar was embarrassed. He hadn’t realized there would be an exchange of some personal token to mark the exchange of debts, and he didn’t know what to give to the man of the Clan that would be as meaningful. They were traveling very light, and he had very little to give. Suddenly it came to him.

He took a pouch from a loop of his belt and poured its contents into his hand. Guban looked surprised. In Jondalar’s hand were several claws and two canine teeth of a cave bear, the cave bear he had killed the previous summer shortly after they had started on their long Journey. He held out one of the teeth. “Please accept this as a token of kinship.”

Guban restrained his eagerness. A cave bear tooth was a powerful token, it bestowed high status, and the giving of one showed great honor. It pleased him to think that this man of the Others had acknowledged his position, and the debt he owed the entire Clan so appropriately. It would make the proper impression when he told the rest about this
exchange. He accepted the token of kinship, closed it inside his fist, and gripped it firmly.

“Good!” Guban said with finality, as though completing a trade. Then he made a request. “Since we are now kin, perhaps we should know the location of each other’s clan, and the territory they use.”

Jondalar described the general location of his homeland. Most of the territory across the glacier was Zelandonii or related, and then he described specifically the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. Guban described his homeland, and Ayla got the impression they were not as far from each other as she had supposed.

Charoli’s name came up before they were through. Jondalar talked about the problems the young man had been creating for everyone, and he explained in some detail what they planned to do to stop him. Guban thought the information was important enough to tell other clans, and he wondered to himself if his broken leg might not turn out to be a great asset.

Guban would have much to tell to his clan. Not only that the Others themselves had problems with the man, and planned to do something about it, but that some of the Others were willing to fight their own kind to help people of the Clan. There were also some who could speak properly! A woman who could communicate very well, and a man with limited but useful ability, which in some ways could be more valuable because he was a male, and he was now kin. Such contact with Others, and the insights and knowledge about them, could bring him even more status, especially if he had full use of his leg again.

Ayla applied the birchbark cast in the evening. Guban went to bed feeling very good. And his leg hardly pained him at all.

Ayla woke up in the morning feeling very uneasy. She had a strange dream again, very vivid, with caves and Creb in it. She mentioned it to Jondalar; then they talked about how they were going to get Guban back to his people. Jondalar suggested the horses, but he was very worried about delaying any longer. Ayla felt that Guban would never consent. The tame horses upset him.

When they got up, they helped Guban out of the tent, and while Ayla and Yorga prepared a morning meal, Jondalar demonstrated the crutches. Guban insisted on trying, over Ayla’s objections, and after a little practicing, was surprised at how effective they were. He could actually walk without putting any weight on his leg.

“Yorga,” Guban called to his woman, after he put the crutches down, “make ready to leave. After the morning meal, we will go. It is time to return to the clan.”

“It’s too soon,” Ayla said, using the Clan gestures at the same time. “You need to rest your leg, or it will not heal properly.”

“My leg will rest while I walk with these.” He motioned toward the crutches.

“If you must go now, you can ride one of the horses,” Jondalar said.

Guban looked startled. “No! Guban walks on own legs. With the help of these walking sticks. We will share one more meal with new kin, and then we go.”

A
fter sharing their morning meal, both couples prepared to go their separate ways. When Guban and Yorga were ready, they simply looked at Jondalar and Ayla for a moment, avoiding the wolf and two horses packed with gear. Then, leaning on his crutches, Guban began hobbling away. Yorga fell in behind him.

There were no goodbyes, no thank-yous; such concepts were foreign to the people of the Clan. It wasn’t customary to comment on one’s departure, it was obvious, and acts of assistance or kindness, especially from kin, were expected. Understood obligations required no thanks, only reciprocity, should it ever be necessary. Ayla knew how difficult it could be if Guban ever had to reciprocate. In his mind, he owed them more than he might ever be able to repay. He had been given more than his life; he had been given a chance to retain his position, his status, which meant more to him than simply being alive—especially if that meant living as a cripple.

“I hope they don’t have far to go. Traveling any distance on those walking sticks is not easy,” Jondalar said. “I hope he makes it.”

“He’ll make it,” Ayla said, “no matter how far it is. Even without the walking sticks, he would get back, if he had to crawl the whole way. Don’t worry, Jondalar. Guban is a man of the Clan. He will make it … or die in the trying.”

Jondalar’s brow wrinkled into a thoughtful frown. He watched Ayla take Whinney’s lead rope; then he shook his head and found Racer’s. In spite of the difficulty for Guban, he had to admit he was glad they had refused his offer of riding back to their clan on the horses. There had been too many delays already.

   From their campsite, they continued riding through open woods until they reached a high point; then they stopped and looked out over the way they had come. Tall pines, standing straight as sentinels, guarded the banks of the Mother River for a long distance back; a winding column of trees leading away from the legion of conifers they could see below, spreading out over the flanks of the mountains that crowded close from the south.

Ahead their uphill climb temporarily leveled off, and an extension of the pine forest, starting at the river, marched across a small valley. They dismounted to lead the horses into the dense woodland and entered a twilight space of profound and eerie silence. Straight dark boles supported a low canopy of spreading long-needled boughs that blocked sunlight and inhibited undergrowth. A layer of brown needles, accumulating for centuries, muffled both footsteps and hoofbeats.