Then, with a delicacy of gesture that Kit found endearing, the old chieftain placed a thick hand over his heart and said aloud, “En-Ul.”
There was no question but that this was the Ancient One’s name, and Kit repeated it at once, saying, “I am pleased to meet you, En-Ul.” He lowered his head in a little bow—an automatic response, but one Kit felt appropriate to the situation—and received a grunt of satisfaction in reply. The next question flowed into Kit’s mind already formed: Where is your home?
“My home is far from here,” was how Kit chose to answer. To say more would have been unnecessary, and probably impossible anyway.
The next two questions followed so quickly in succession they formed a single inquiry: Why are you alone? Are you cast out from your clan?
“No, no—I am not an outcast,” Kit hastened to assure him. “I am alone because I am . . . lost. I was travelling and became lost.” He did not know if the concept of travelling would translate. “My clan—my people do not know I am here.”
A feeling of sympathetic sorrow flowed in inundating waves to Kit—empathetic commiseration, mingled with a sense of the wrongness of such a state as Kit described: That is bad. You . . . possessive . . . fellow beings—your people, Kit decided . . . strong imperative . . . must . . . outpouring of grief and anxiety . . . mourn . . . an empty place . . . absence . . .
Your people must mourn your absence.
“Some of them do, I suppose,” admitted Kit lamely.
The Ancient One gave another grunt of satisfaction, and then, peering deep into Kit’s eyes, expressed a largess of generosity and inclusive fellowship Kit could only describe as a feeling of welcome to a long lost and much loved son; it felt as if he was being adopted into the clan. It felt as if he was coming home.
The intensity of the emotion so directly conveyed took his breath away. Kit could not speak for the sudden stirring of his own long-suppressed feelings. Tears welled in his eyes, and he began to weep. They were tears of grief for his own inadequacy, his frailty, his shrunken and limited intelligence, his woeful dependency.
He wept hot, miserable tears, and with the weeping came a kind of solace, a comfort like that of a friendly hand reached out to steady a tottering child. As if in response to his misery, he sensed an empathy and understanding. There was nothing superior in it, or condemning. Into his soul flowed, simply, acceptance.
When Kit found his voice again, all he could say was, “Thank you.”
CHAPTER 34
In Which the Future Is a Dream
River City Clan remained encamped on the stone ledge as winter deepened across the valley. A few days after the arrival of the new clan members, Kit noticed that at daybreak each morning all the younger males left the warmth and shelter of the rock ledge and disappeared into the wood. They returned an hour or so before sunset, but try as he might, he received no answer to his admittedly clumsy attempts to find out what they were doing.
Very obviously, they were not hunting—Dardok and two of the women continued their hunting and scavenging forays on suitable days, as they had since coming to the winter shelter. Whatever they were up to, it was not about providing food for the tribe. Finally, when Kit had become absolutely eaten up with curiosity, he went to En-Ul, who since his arrival had hived himself up in robes and furs at the far side of the ledge, where he spent his days overlooking the fog-bound river far below.
“I am sorry to bother you, En-Ul,” Kit said, announcing his presence with a polite cough. He was learning, when speaking to clansmen, to try to make simple declarations while holding the images or concepts at issue forcefully in his mind.
The old one stirred and turned a bright eye on Kit. Be welcome here, Ghidt, came into Kit’s consciousness.
The response surprised Kit; not because it was unusual in itself, but because he had not given his name to the Clan elder, or heard anyone else speak it aloud in his presence. He must have picked it up from one of the others by way of the mental radio they all shared.
“I have come with a question,” Kit said, settling in beside the old chieftain. “The young men,” he continued, picturing the ones