"I hope it won't be as bad as that," Jondalar said. "We'd need one of your big boats to cross."
"If you want to go by boat, we would take you to the Sister," Carlono said.
"We need to get more bog myrtle, anyway," Carolio added, "and that's where we go for it."
"I would be happy to go up the river in your boat, but I don't think the horses can ride in one," Jondalar said.
"Didn't you say they can swim across rivers? Maybe they could swim behind the boat," Carlono suggested. "And the wolf could ride."
"Yes, horses can swim across a river, but it's a long way to the Sister, several days as I recall," Jondalar said, "and I don't think they could swim upriver for such a long distance."
"There is a way over the mountains," Dolando said. "You'll have to do a little backtracking, then go up and around one of the lower peaks, but the trail is marked and it will, eventually, take you close to where the Sister joins the Mother. There is a high ridge just to the south that makes it easy to see even from a distance, once you reach the lowland to the west."
"But would that be the best place to cross the Sister?" Jondalar asked, remembering the wide swirling waters from the last time.
"Perhaps not, but from there you can follow the Sister north until you find a better place, although she's not an easy river. Her feeders come down out of the mountains hard and fast, her current is much swifter than the Mother's, and she's more treacherous," Carlono said. "A few of us once went upstream on her for almost a moon. She stayed swift and difficult the whole time."
"It's the Mother I need to follow to get back, and that means crossing the Sister," Jondalar said.
"Then I'll wish you well."
"You'll need food," Roshario said, "and I have something I'd like to give you, Jondalar."
"We don't have much room to take anything extra," Jondalar said.
"It is for your mother," Roshario said, "Jetamio's favorite necklace. I saved it to give to Thonolan, if he came back. It won't take much room. After her mother died, Jetamio needed to know she belonged somewhere. I told her to remember she was always Sharamudoi. She made the necklace out of chamois teeth and the backbones of a small sturgeon, to represent the land and the river. I thought your mother might want something that belonged to her son's chosen woman."
"You're right. She would," Jondalar said. "Thank you. I know it will mean a great deal to Marthona."
"Where is Ayla? I have something to give her, too. I hope she will have room for it," Roshario said.
"She's in with Tholie, packing," Jondalar said. "She doesn't really want to leave, yet, not until your arm is healed. But we really can't wait any longer."
"I'm sure I'll be fine." Roshario fell into step beside him as they walked toward the dwellings. "Ayla took off the old birchbark and put on a fresh piece yesterday. Except that it's smaller from not using it, my arm seems healed, but she wants me to keep this on for a while longer. She says once I start using my arm again, it will fill out."
"I'm sure it will."
"I don't know what is taking the runner and the Shamud so long to get here, but Ayla has explained what to do, not only to me, but to Dolando, Tholie, Carolio, and several others. We'll manage without her, I'm sure – although we would rather you both stayed. It's not too late to change your mind…"
"It means more to me than I can tell you, Roshario, that you would welcome us so willingly… especially with Dolando, and Ayla's… upbringing…"
She stopped and looked at the tall man. "That's bothered you, hasn't it?"
Jondalar felt the red heat of embarrassment. "It did," he admitted. "It really doesn't any more, but knowing how Dolando felt about them, that you would still accept her, makes it… I can't explain it. It relieves me. I don't want her to be hurt. She's been through enough."
"She's stronger for it, though." Roshario studied him, noted the frown of concern, the troubled look in his stunning blue eyes. "You've been gone a long time, Jondalar. You've known many people, learned other customs, other ways, even other languages. Your own people may not know you any more – you are not even the same person you were when you left here – and they will not be quite the people you remember. You will think of each other as you were, not as you are now."
"I've worried so much about Ayla, I hadn't thought of that, but you are right. It has been a long time. She might fit in better than I. They will be strangers, and she will learn about them very quickly, the way she always does…"
"And you will have expectations," Roshario said, starting toward the wooden shelters again. Before they entered, the woman stopped again. "You will always be welcome here, Jondalar. Both of you."
"Thank you, but it's such a long way to travel. You have no idea how long, Roshario."
"You're right. I don't. But you do, and you are used to traveling. If you should ever decide that you want to come back, it won't seem so long."
"For someone who never dreamt of making a long Journey, I have already traveled more than I want," Jondalar said. "Once I get back, I think my Journeying days will be over. You were right when you said it was time to settle, but it might make getting used to home easier knowing that I have a choice."
When they pushed the entrance flap aside, they found only Markeno inside. "Where's Ayla?" Jondalar asked.
"She and Tholie went to get the plants she was drying. Didn't you see them, Roshario?"
"We came from the field. I thought she was here," Jondalar said.
"She was. Ayla's been telling Tholie about some of her medicines. After she looked at your arm yesterday, and started explaining what to do for you, they've been talking about nothing but plants, and what they are good for. That woman knows a lot, Jondalar."
"I know it! I don't know how she remembers it all."
"They went out this morning and came back with basketfuls. All kinds. Even tiny yellow threads of plants. Now she's explaining how to prepare them," Markeno said. "It's a shame you are leaving, Jondalar. Tholie is going to miss Ayla. We're all going to miss you both."
"It's not easy to go, but…"
"I know. Thonolan. That reminds me. I want to give you something," Markeno said, rummaging through a wooden box filled with various tools and implements made of wood, bone, and horn.
He pulled out an odd-looking object made of the primary branch of an antler, with the tines cut away and a hole just below the fork where they had joined. It was carved with decorations, but not the geometric and stylized forms of birds and fish typical of the Sharamudoi. Instead, very beautiful and lifelike animals, deer and ibex, were inscribed around the handle. Something about it gave Jondalar a chill. When he looked closer, it became a chill of recognition.
"This is Thonolan's spear-shaft straightener!" he said. How many times had he watched his brother use that tool, he thought. He even remembered when Thonolan got it.
"I thought you might want it, to remember him. And I thought, maybe it would be helpful when you search for his spirit. Besides, when you put him… his spirit… to rest, he might want to have it," Markeno said.
"Thank you, Markeno," Jondalar said, taking the sturdy tool and examining it with wonder and reverence. It had been so much a part of his brother, it brought back flashes of memory. "This means a lot to me." He hefted it, shifted it for balance, feeling in its weight the presence of Thonolan. "I think you might be right. There is so much of him in this, I can almost feel him."