"I wish I had known some of their language," Ayla said. "It was nice to visit, but we couldn't talk."
"Yes, I wish we could have, too," Jondalar said, sincerely wishing that he had found out whether Noria ever did have a baby, and if it had his blue eyes.
"In the Clan, different clans used some words in their everyday language that weren't always understood by everyone, but everyone knew the silent language of gestures. You could always communicate," Ayla said. "Too bad the Others don't have a language everyone can understand."
"It would be helpful, especially when you are on a Journey, but it's hard for me to imagine a language that everyone would understand. Do you really think that people of the Clan everywhere can understand the same sign language?" Jondalar asked.
"It's not like a language they have to learn. They are born with it, Jondalar. It is so ancient that it is in their memories, and their memories go back to the beginning. You can't imagine how far back that is," Ayla said.
She shivered with a chill of fear as she remembered the time that Creb, to save her life, had taken her back with them, against all tradition. By the unwritten law of the Clan, he should have let her die. But to the Clan, she was dead, now. It occurred to her how ironic that was. When Broud had cursed her with death, he shouldn't have. He didn't have a good reason. Creb did have a reason; she had broken the most powerful taboo of the Clan. Perhaps he should have made sure that she died, but he didn't.
They began striking camp and stowing their tent, sleeping rolls, cooking utensils, ropes, and other equipment in the pack-saddle baskets, with the efficiency of unspoken routine. Ayla was filling waterbags at the river when Jeren and his hunters returned. With smiles and many words of what were obviously profuse thanks, the men presented Ayla with a package wrapped in a piece of fresh aurochs hide. She opened it to find the tender rump, butchered from a recent kill.
"I am grateful, Jeren," Ayla said, and she gave him the beautiful smile that always made Jondalar melt with love. It seemed to have a similar affect on Jeren, and Jondalar smiled inwardly when he saw the dazed expression on the man's face. It took Jeren a moment to collect himself; then he turned to Jondalar and began talking, trying very hard to communicate something. He stopped when he saw he was not being understood, and he talked to the other men. Then he turned back to Jondalar.
"Tamen," he said, and began walking toward the south and motioning for them to follow. "Tamen," he repeated, beckoning and adding some other words.
"I think he wants you to go with him," Ayla said, "to see that man you know. The one who speaks Zelandonii."
"Tamen, Zel-an-don-yee. Hadumai," Jeren said, beckoning both of them.
"He must want us to visit. What do you think?" Jondalar said. "Yes, I think you're right," Ayla said. "Do you want to stop and visit?"
"It would mean going back," Jondalar said, "and I don't know how far. If we had met them farther south, I wouldn't have minded stopping for a little while on the way, but I hate to go back now that we've come this far."
Ayla nodded. "You'll have to tell him, somehow." Jondalar smiled at Jeren, then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, "but we need to go north. North," he repeated, pointing in that direction.
Jeren looked distressed, shook his head, then closed his eyes as if trying to think. He walked toward them and took a short staff out of his belt. Jondalar noticed the top of it was carved. He knew he had seen one like it before, and he tried to remember where. Jeren cleared a space on the ground, then drew a line with the staff, and another crossing it. Below the first line, he drew a figure that vaguely resembled a horse. At the end of the second line pointing toward the channel of the Great Mother River, he drew a circle with a few lines radiating from it. Ayla looked more closely.
"Jondalar," she said, with excitement in her voice, "when Mamut was showing me symbols and teaching me what they meant, that was a sign for 'sun.'"
"And that line points in the direction of the setting sun," Jondalar said, pointing west. "Where he drew the horse, that must be south." He indicated the direction when he said it.
Jeren was nodding vigorously. Then he pointed north and frowned. He walked to the north end of the line he had drawn and stood facing them. He lifted his arms and crossed them in front of him, in the same way that Ayla had done when she was trying to tell Jeren not to hunt Whinney and Racer. Then he shook his head no. Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other and back at Jeren.
"Do you think he's trying to tell us not to go north?" Ayla asked.
Jondalar felt a dawning recognition of what Jeren was trying to communicate. "Ayla, I don't think he just wants us to go south with him and visit. I think he's trying to tell us something more. I think he's trying to warn us not to go north."
"Warn us? What could be north that he would warn us against?" Ayla said.
"Could it be the great wall of ice?" Jondalar wondered.
"We know about the ice. We hunted mammoth near it with the Mamutoi. It's cold, but not really dangerous, is it?"
"It does move," Jondalar said, "over many years, and sometimes it even uproots trees with the changing seasons, but it doesn't move so fast that you can't get out of its way."
"I don't think it's the ice," Ayla said. "But he's telling us not to go north, and he seems very concerned."
"I think you're right, but I can't imagine what could be so dangerous," Jondalar said. "Sometimes people who don't travel much beyond their own range imagine that the world outside their territory is dangerous, because it's different."
"I don't think Jeren is a man who fears very much," Ayla said.
"I have to agree," Jondalar said, then faced the man. "Jeren, I wish I could understand you."
Jeren had been watching them. He guessed from their expressions that they had understood his warning, and he was waiting for their response.
"Do you think we should go with him and talk to Tamen?" Ayla asked.
"I hate to turn back and lose time now. We still have to reach that glacier before the end of winter. If we keep going, we should make it easily, with time to spare, but if anything happens to delay us, it could be spring and melting, and too dangerous to cross," Jondalar said.
"So we'll keep going north," Ayla said.
"I think we should, but we will be watchful. I just wish I knew what I should be watching for." He looked at the man again. "Jeren, my friend, I thank you for your warning," he said. "We will be careful, but I think we should keep on going." He pointed south, then shook his head and pointed north.
Jeren, trying to protest, shook his head again, but he finally gave up and nodded acceptance. He had done what he could. He went to talk to the other man in the horse-head cape, spoke for a moment, then returned and indicated they were going.
Ayla and Jondalar waved as Jeren and his hunters left. Then they finished up their packing and, with some reservations, started out toward the north.
As the Journeyers traveled across the northern end of the vast central grassland, they could see the terrain ahead was changing; the flat lowlands were giving way to rugged hills. The occasional highlands that had interrupted the central plain were connected, though partly submerged beneath the soil in the midland basin, to great broken blocks of faulted sedimentary rock running in an irregular backbone from northeast to southwest through the plain. Relatively recent volcanic eruptions had covered the highlands with fertile soils that nurtured forests of pine, spruce, and larch on the upper reaches, with birch and willows on the lower slopes, while brush and steppe grass grew on the dry lee sides.