Jondalar looked, but he was too overwhelmed to focus his vision on anything less than the full expanse. They were at timberline. Behind was the forest through which they had ascended. It had begun with oak at the lower elevations; then beech predominated. Farther up were the conifers that were more familiar to him, mountain pine, fir, and spruce. He had seen, from a distance, the hardened crust of the earth upthrust in far grander peaks, but, as they left the trees behind, his breath caught at the unexpected grandeur. As many times as he had seen the view, it still affected him the same way.

The closeness of the mounting height stunned him; the sense of immediacy, as though he could reach out and touch it. In silent awe it spoke of elemental upheavals, of gravid earth straining to birth naked rock. Unclothed by forest, the primordial bone of the Great Mother lay exposed in the tilted landscape. Beyond it the sky was unearthly blue-flat and deep-a featureless backdrop to the blinding reflections of sunlight fracturing off crystals of glacial ice that clung to spines and cracks above windswept alpine meadows.

"I see it!" Thonolan cried. "A little more to the right, Jondalar. See? On that outcrop."

The tall man shifted his gaze and saw the small, graceful chamois poised on the precipice. Its thick black winter coat still clung in patches on the flanks, but the beige-gray summer pelt blended into the rock. Two small horns rose straight up from the forehead of the goatlike antelope, curving back only at the tips.

"I see him now," Jondalar said.

"That may not be a 'him.' Females have horns, too," Dolando corrected.

"They do resemble ibex, don't they, Thonolan? They're smaller-horns, too. But from a distance..."

"How do the Zelandonii hunt ibex, Jondalar?" a young woman asked, her eyes glistening with curiosity, excitement, and love.

She was only a few years older than Darvo and had developed an adolescent infatuation with the tall blond man. She had been born Shamudoi, but had grown up on the river when her mother mated a second time to a Ramudoi, and had moved back up when the relationship came to a stormy end. She hadn't grown accustomed to the mountain crags as most Shamudoi youngsters did and hadn't shown an inclination to hunt chamois until recently, after she discovered Jondalar's strong feeling of approval for women who hunted. To her surprise, she found it exciting.

"I don't know much about it, Rakario," Jondalar replied, smiling gently. He had seen the signs in young women before, and though he couldn't help but respond to her attention, he didn't want to encourage her. "There were ibex in the mountains south of us, and more in the eastern ranges, but we didn't hunt the mountains. They were too far. Occasionally a group would get together at the Summer Meeting and arrange a hunting party. But I just went along for the fun, and I followed the directions of the hunters who knew how. I'm still learning, Rakario. Dolando is the expert hunter of mountain animals."

The chamois leaped from the precipice to a pinnacle, then calmly surveyed the view from its new vantage.

"How do you hunt an animal that can jump like that?" Rakario breathed with hushed wonder at the effortless grace of the sure-footed creature. "How can they hold on to such a small place?"

"When we get one, Rakario, take a look at the hooves," Dolando said. "Only the outer edge is hard. The inner part is flexible, like the palm of your hand. That's why they don't slide or lose their footing. The soft part grips, the outer edge holds. To hunt them, it's most important to remember that they always look down. They always watch where they're going, and they know what is below them. Their eyes are far back on the sides of their head, so they can see around to the side, but they can't see up behind them. That's your advantage. If you move up around them, you can get them from behind. You can get close enough to touch them, if you're careful and don't lose patience."

"What if they move before you get there?" she asked.

"Look up there. See the tinge of green on the pastures? That spring gra.s.s is a real treat after winter forage. The one up there is a lookout. The rest of them-males, females, and kids-are down among rocks and bushes staying out of sight. If the grazing is good, they won't move much, as long as they feel safe."

"Why are we standing around here talking? Let's go," Darvo said.

He was annoyed at Rakario for hanging around Jondalar all the time and impatient to begin the hunt. He'd accompanied the hunters before-Jondalar always took him along when he started hunting with the Shamudoi-though only to track, watch, and learn. This time he had been given permission to try for the kill. If he succeeded, it would be a first kill for him, and he would be the recipient of special attention. But no extraordinary pressures were imposed on him. He did not have to make the kill this time; there would be other times to try. Hunting such agile prey, in an environment to which they were uniquely adapted, was difficult at best. Whoever got close enough to try made the attempt, and that required stealth and care. No one could follow the chamois from crag to outcrop, across deep chasms, once they were frightened and started to run.

Dolando started up around a rock formation whose parallel lines of strata were skewed at an angle. Softer layers of the sedimentary deposits had worn away on the exposed face, leaving convenient steplike footholds. The steep hike to get up behind and around the herd of chamois would be arduous, but not perilous. No real mountain climbing would be required.

The rest of the hunting party fell in behind the leader. Jondalar was waiting to bring up the rear. Nearly everyone had started up the stepped rock when he heard Serenio call out to him. He turned around in surprise. Serenio was not a woman who cared for hunting, and she seldom went much beyond the vicinity of the shelters. He couldn't imagine what she was doing so far away, but the look on her face when she caught up to him sent a chill of fear down his back. She had been hurrying and had to catch her breath before she could talk. "Glad...reached you. Need Thonolan...Jetamio...labor..." she managed to get out after a moment.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: "Thonolan! Thonolan!"

One of the figures moving on ahead turned around, and Jondalar waved him back.

The silence as they waited was uncomfortable. He wanted to ask if Jetamio was all right, but something held him back.

"When did labor start?" he finally asked.

"She was having back pains last night but didn't say anything to Thonolan. He'd been looking forward to the chamois hunt, and she was afraid he wouldn't go if she told him. She said she wasn't sure it was labor, and I think she had some idea of surprising him with a baby when he got back," Serenio said. "She didn't want him to worry, or be nervous waiting, while she labored."

That was like Jetamio, he thought. She would want to spare him. Thonolan doted on her so much. Suddenly Jondalar had an ominous thought. If it was Jetamio's wish to surprise Thonolan, why had Serenio rushed up the mountain to get him?

"There's a problem, isn't there?"

Serenio looked at the ground, closed her eyes, and breathed deep before she answered. "The baby is breech; she's too narrow and won't give. Shamud thinks it's the fault of the paralysis she had, and told me to get Thonolan....You, too...for his sake."

"Oh, no! Good Doni, oh, no!"

"No! No! No! She can't be! Why? Why would the Mother bless her with a child, and then take them both?"

Thonolan was pacing furiously within the confines of the dwelling he had shared with Jetamio, pounding one fist into the other hand. Jondalar stood by helplessly, unable to offer more than the comfort of his presence. Most could not offer that much. Thonolan, wild with grief, had screamed at everyone to get away.

"Jondalar, why her? Why would the Mother take her? She had so little, she suffered through so much. Was it so much to ask? A child? Someone of her own flesh and blood?"

"I don't know, Thonolan. Not even a zelandoni could answer you."

"Why like that? With such pain?" Thonolan stopped in front of his brother, appealing to him. "She hardly knew me when I came. Jondalar, she was hurting. I could see it in her eyes. Why did she have to die?"

"No one knows why the Mother gives life, and then takes it back."

"The Mother! The Mother! She doesn't care. Jetamio honored Her, I honored Her. What did it matter? She took Jetamio anyway. I hate the Mother!" He started pacing again.

"Jondalar..." Roshario called from the entrance, hesitating to come in.

Jondalar stepped out. "What is it?"

"Shamud cut in to take the baby, after she..." Roshario blinked back a tear. "He thought he might be able to save the baby-sometimes that will work. It was too late, but it was a boy. I don't know if you want to tell him or not."

"Thank you, Roshario."

He could see she had been grieving. Jetamio had been a daughter. Roshario had raised her, cared for her through a paralyzing illness and a long recovery, and had been with her from the beginning to the agonizing end of her ill-fated labor. Suddenly Thonolan pushed past them, struggling into his old traveling backframe and heading toward the pathway around the wall.

"I don't think now is the time. I'll tell him later," Jondalar said, running after his brother.

"Where are you going?" he asked, catching up to him.

"I'm leaving. I never should have stopped. I haven't reached the end of my Journey."

"You can't leave now," Jondalar said, putting a restraining hand on his arm. Thonolan shrugged it off violently.

"Why not? What's to keep me here?" Thonolan sobbed.

Jondalar stopped him again, spun him around, and looked into a face so lacerated with grief that he hardly recognized him. The pain was so deep, it burned his own soul. There had been times when he had envied Thonolan's joy in his love for Jetamio, wondering at the defect in his character that prevented him from knowing such love. Was it worth it? Was the love worth this anguish? This bitter desolation?

"Can you leave Jetamio and her son to be buried without you?"

"Her son? How do you know it was a son?"

"Shamud took it. He thought he might save at least the baby. It was too late."

"I don't want to see the son that killed her."

"Thonolan. Thonolan. She asked to be blessed. She wanted to be pregnant, and she was so happy about it. Would you have taken that happiness from her? Would you rather she had lived a long life of sorrow? Childless, and despairing of ever having one? She had love and happiness, first mated to you, then blessed by the Mother. It was only a short time, but she told me she was happier than she ever dreamed possible. She said nothing gave her more joy than you, and knowing she was carrying a child. Your child, she called it, Thonolan. The child of your spirit. Maybe the Mother knew it had to be one or the other, and chose to give her the joy."

"Jondalar, she didn't even know me...." Thonolan's voice cracked.

"Shamud gave her something at the end, Thonolan. There was no hope that she would give birth, but she didn't suffer so much. She knew you were there."

"The Mother took everything when She took Jetamio. I was so full of love, and now I am empty, Jondalar. I have nothing left. How can she be gone?" Thonolan swayed. Jondalar reached for him, supported him as he crumpled, and held him against his shoulder while he sobbed his despair.

"Why not back home, Thonolan? If we leave now, we can make it to the glacier by winter and be home next spring. Why do you want to go east?" Jondalar's voice held longing.

"You go home, Jondalar. You should have gone long ago. I always said you're a Zelandonii and will always be one. I'm going east."

"You said you were going to make a Journey to the end of the Great Mother River. Once you reach Beran Sea, what will you do?"

"Who knows? Maybe I'll go around the sea. Maybe I'll go north and hunt mammoth with Tholie's people. The Mamutoi say there is another mountain range far to the east. Home has nothing for me, Jondalar. I'd rather look for something new. It's time for us to go different ways, Brother. You go west, I'll go east."

"If you don't want to go back, why not stay here?"

"Yes, why not stay here, Thonolan?" Dolando said, joining them. "And you too, Jondalar. Shamudoi or Ramudoi, it doesn't matter. You belong. You have family here, and friends. We would be sorry to see either of you leave."

"Dolando, you know I was ready to live here for the rest of my life. I can't now. Everything is too full of her. I keep expecting to see her. Every day I'm here I have to remember all over again that I will never see her again. I'm sorry. I will miss many people, but I must go."

Dolando nodded. He didn't push them to stay, but he had wanted to let them know they were family. "When will you leave?"

"Soon. A few days at most," Thonolan replied. "I'd like to arrange a trade, Dolando. I'll be leaving everything behind, except traveling packs and clothes. I'd like a small boat, though."

"I'm sure it can be arranged. You'll be going downstream, then. East? Not back to the Zelandonii?"

"I'm going east," Thonolan said.

"And you, Jondalar?"

"I don't know. There's Serenio and Darvo..."

Dolando nodded. Jondalar may not have made the tie formal, but he knew the decision would not be any easier for it. The tall Zelandonii had reasons to go west, to stay, or to go east, and which way he would choose was anyone's guess.

"Roshario's been cooking all day. I think she's doing it to keep herself busy, so she won't have time to think," Dolando said. "It would please her if you'd join us for a meal Jondalar, she'd like Serenio and Darvo, too. It would please her even more if you would just eat something, Thonolan. She worries about you."

It must be hard on Dolando, too, Jondalar realized. He had been so worried about Thonolan that he hadn't thought of the grief of the Cave. This had been Jetamio's home. Dolando must have cared for her as he would any child of his hearth. She had been close to many. Tholie and Markeno were her family, and he knew Serenio had been crying. Darvo was upset, not wanting to talk to him.

"I'll ask Serenio," Jondalar said. "I'm sure Darvo would like to go. Maybe you should just count on him. I'd like to have a talk with Serenio."

"Send him over," Dolando said, reminding himself to keep the lad overnight to give his mother and Jondalar some time to reach a decision.

The three men walked together back to the sandstone overhang, then stood near the fire in the central hearth for a few moments. They said little but enjoyed each other's company -bittersweet-knowing changes had occurred that would soon make it impossible for them to stand with each other again.

Shadows of the terrace walls had already brought an evening chill, though from the front end sunlight could be seen streaming down the river gorge. Standing by the fire together, they could almost feel that nothing had changed, could almost forget the devastating tragedy. They stayed long into twilight, wanting to hold the moment, each thinking private thoughts that, had they shared them, they would have found remarkably similar. Each was thinking of the events that had brought the Zelandonii men to the Cave of the Sharamudoi, and each was wondering if he would ever see either of the other two again.

"Aren't you ever coming in?" Roshario asked, finally unable to wait longer. She had sensed their need for this last silent communion and hadn't wanted to disturb them. Then Shamud and Serenio came out of a shelter, Darvo detached himself from a group of youngsters, other people came to the central fire, and the mood was irrevocably lost. Roshario herded everyone toward her dwelling, including Jondalar and Serenio, but they left soon after.

They walked in silence to the edge, then around the wall to a fallen log. It made a comfortable seat from which to watch the sunset upriver. Nature conspired to keep them silent by the sheer beauty of the setting sun; a panorama presented in metallic hues. With the molten orb's descent, lead-gray clouds were highlighted in silver, then spread out in gleaming gold that shattered on the river. Fiery red transformed the gold to shining copper, which flattened to bronze, then faded to silver again.

As the silver leadened, then tarnished to darker shades, Jondalar came to a decision. He turned to face Serenio. She was certainly beautiful, he thought. She wasn't hard to live with; she made his life comfortable. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Let's go back, Jondalar," she said, first, "Serenio...I...we have lived..." he started. She held a finger to his mouth to silence him.

"Don't talk now. Let's go back."

He heard the urgency in her voice this time, saw the desire in her eyes. He reached for her hand, held it, fingers to his lips, then turned her hand around, opened it, and kissed her palm. His warm seeking mouth found her wrist, then followed her arm to the inside of her elbow, pushing back her sleeve to reach it.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back, inviting him. He held the back of her neck to support her head, and kissed the pulse in her throat, found her ear and searched out her mouth. She was waiting, hungry. He kissed her then, slowly, lovingly, tasting the softness under her tongue, touching the ridges of her palate, and drew her tongue into his mouth. When they pulled apart, she was breathing heavily. Her hand found his warm and throbbing response.

"Let's go back," she said again, her voice husky.

"Why go back? Why not here?" he said.

"If we stay here it will be over too soon. I want the warmth of fire and furs so we won't need to rush."

Their lovemaking had become, not stale, but a little perfunctory recently. They knew what satisfied each other, and they tended to fall into a pattern, exploring and experimenting only rarely. This night, he knew, she wanted more than routine, and he was eager to comply. He took her head in both his hands, kissed her eyes and the end of her nose, the softness of her cheek, and breathed into her ear. He nibbled at an earlobe, then sought her throat again. When he found her mouth once more, he took it fiercely and held her to him.

"I think we should go back, Serenio," he breathed into her ear.

"That's what I've been saying."

Side by side, his arm over her shoulder and hers around his waist, they walked back around the jutting wall For once, he didn't step back to allow pa.s.sage around the outside edge in single file. He did not even notice the precipitous fall-off.

It was dark, the deep black of both night and shadow, in the open field. The moon's light was stopped by the high side walls; only a few scattered stars could be seen between clouds above. It was later than they realized when they reached the overhang. No one was out around the fire of the central hearth, though logs still burned with licking flames. They saw Roshario, Dolando, and several others inside their shelter, and as they pa.s.sed the entrance, they saw Darvo throwing carved pieces of bone with Thonolan. Jondalar smiled. It was a game he and his brother had often played on long winter nights, one that could take half a night to resolve, and it held the attention-making forgetting easier.

The dwelling Jondalar shared with Serenio was dark when they entered. He piled wood in the stone-lined fireplace, then got a piece of burning wood from the main hearth to light it. He leaned two planks across each other at the entrance, then stretched the leather drape across, making a warm private world.

He shrugged out of his outer garment, and, while Serenio brought out drinking cups, Jondalar got the skin of fermented bilberry juice and poured for both. The immediacy of his ardor had pa.s.sed, and the walk back had given him time to think. She's as lovely and pa.s.sionate a woman as any I've ever known, he thought, sipping the warming liquid. I should have formalized our union long ago. Perhaps she'd be willing to come back with me, and Darvo, too. But whether we stay here, or go back, I want her for my mate.

There was relief in the decision, and one less undecided factor to cope with, and it pleased him that he felt so good about it. It was proper, right. Why had he held back so long?

"Serenio, I've made a decision. I don't know if I've ever told you how much you mean to me..."

"Not now," she said, putting her cup down. She reached her arms around his neck, brought his lips to hers, and pressed close. It was a long, slow, lingering kiss that reminded him quickly of his pa.s.sion. She's right, he thought, we can talk later.

As the intensity of his heat rea.s.serted itself, he led her to the fur-covered sleeping platform. The forgotten fire burned low while he explored and rediscovered her body. Serenio had never been unresponsive, but she opened herself to him as she never had before. She couldn't get enough of him, though she was satisfied and satisfied again. Surge after surge filled them, and when he thought he had reached his limit, she experimented with his techniques and slowly encouraged him again. With a last ecstatic effort, they reached a joyous release and lay together exhausted, finally sated.

They slept for a while, as they were, naked on top of the furs. When the fire died, the chill of predawn woke them. She started a fresh fire from the last embers, while he put on a tunic and slipped out to fill the waterbag. The warmth inside the dwelling was welcome when he returned; he had taken a quick dip in the cold pool as well. He felt invigorated, refreshed, and so thoroughly satisfied that he was ready for anything. After Serenio started stones heating, she slipped out to relieve herself and came back as wet as he.

"You're shivering," Jondalar said, wrapping her in a fur.

"You seemed to enjoy your dunking so much, I thought I'd try it. It was cold!" She laughed.

"The tea is almost ready. I'll bring you a cup. You sit here," he said, urging her back to the sleeping platform and piling more furs around her, until only her face could be seen. Spending my life with a woman like Serenio would not be at all bad, he thought. I wonder if I could persuade her to come home with me? An unhappy thought intruded itself. If only I could persuade Thonolan to come home with me. I can't understand why he wants to go east. He took Serenio a cup of hot betony tea, and one for himself, and settled on the edge of the platform.

"Serenio, have you ever thought of making a Journey?"