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."

41

After 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 hoof-beats.

Ayla noticed a collection of mushrooms at the base of a tree, and she knelt to examine them. They were frozen solid, caught by a sudden frost of the previous autumn that had never let up. But no snow had filtered in to betray the season. It was as though the time of harvest had been captured and held in suspension, preserved in the still cold forest. Wolf appeared beside her and pushed his muzzle into her ungloved hand. She rubbed the top of his head, noticed his steamy breath and then her own, and had a fleeting impression that their small company of travelers were the only things alive.