Gordon wasn’t listening. His attention was filled with the sight of Pela in her white leathers sewn with turquoise, black, and golden beadwork up from her hem and cuffs. Her hair was done up in a gleaming auburn pile upon her head, the affair held in place by a half dozen long white bone combs, their ends capped with gold beads. At the sight of her, the women began singing.
The drums beat again and the men began singing.
Gordon’s eyes sought only Pela, and every time he looked at her, she was looking back at him, her face radiant, her eyes filled with love and wonder. In fact, he was so caught up in looking at her he realized that he had forgotten to reset the shockcomb. In a pause in the festivities, he picked up his bag, held it between his knees, reached in and triggered the reset. He glanced in and saw the readout. Thirty-one minutes to spare. It brought back to him the impending hammer of reality. He looked around at the gathering. One important face was missing. Gordon leaned toward Mahu and asked, “Clan Father, where is Tonton Annajaka?”
Mahu lowered his cup, licked his left thumb, and repeated Gordon’s visual search as though he expected to find the shaman of the Black Mountain Clan there. “She should be here.” The Clan Father frowned, looked again, then slowly shook his head. “When I saw her earlier she looked not right. Perhaps she is ill. Take no offense at Tonton’s absence, God’n.”
“Where was she going, Mahu?”
“Cross river.” He frowned at a memory. “She say she go to look at nightmare.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Mystical talk, the way natichas do.” Gordon nodded and looked down at his hands resting atop his leather knapsack. Mahu leaned over and whispered into his ear, “What you know about Tonton’s nightmare?” The Clan Father leaned back and pointed at his own ear.
Gordon whispered into Mahu’s ear, “I am the one who told her the nightmare. She wants to test it.” Gordon frowned as the words left his mouth.
“You have question,” stated the Clan Father.
Gordon nodded. “There are things about me no one here knows but me. For this reason no one can warn Pela of them in making her decision. Is it permitted for me to tell her these things now?”
“No.” Mahu thought for a moment. “But you may stand outside next to the large tree and take the air. It is smoky in here.” He leaned forward and said to Ghaf. “It is smoky in your tent.”
“Unhealthy and too warm,” said Ghaf. “I must see to making changes.”
Shantonna pushed her daughter toward Pela’s side of the ring. “See if the air is any better on that side of the tent, Anista,” said her mother.
Mahu nodded toward the tent’s entrance. “Perhaps you should get some air, God’n.”
“My thanks, Clan father. I will.” He stood, stepped through the guests, and went to the entrance of the tent. Once outside he walked to the large tree and stood there in the still air, the torch beside the entrance to Ghaf’s tent burning brightly. Automatically Gordon’s gaze searched the shadows. Yellow Eyes was there, monitoring how his plaything walked the trail he had chosen. In the shadows, as well, was someone else: Jatka.
He heard footsteps whispering in the snow behind him. “It is cooler out here,” said Pela. “I can breathe.”
Gordon turned and looked at her. Her back was toward him. He turned back and they stood with their backs to each other. “Omiva, goddess of the night sky,” Gordon said to the night, “there are things the one I am thinking for doesn’t know about me. No one here but me knows these things. I would have you tell Pela so then she can decide if she is still my gift.”
“I am listening, Omiva,” said Pela quietly. “What would you say to me?”
Gordon told the night sky of the thing that built Black Mountain and the coming thing that one day would take the mountain and the peoples near it. He told her of the coming flood that would bury the village, the valley, Shayvi’s Hill, and all she knew. Gordon told Omiva about the many men he had killed and about the capsule. He told her about moving through time, about why he and his two companions had come to her village, and how he knew what would come.
When he was finished, he folded his arms across his chest and bowed his head.
Pela said, “Great Listener, Mother of Stars, with all God’n knows, all he saw, all he did, and all he fears, is there room left in his heart for Pela?”
“Yes,” he said in answer to Night’s question. But Night had one more question.
“Omiva,” addressed Pela, “If people from beyond now come for God’n, will he go with them?”
“Only if Pela comes with me, goddess of night. Only then.”
“Then he is my gift, Omiva, and I am his.”
But there was still one shadow remaining. “Night Goddess,” said Gordon, “I would like to regard Jatka as our son and raise him to manhood.”
Pela laughed sweetly. “Some will say God’n has a woman’s heart, Omiva, to go with his boy’s face.”
Gordon laughed and shook his head. “If that is the worst ever said about Gordon Redcliff in this life, Goddess of the Night Sky, it will be a happy life.”
“If he agrees, then, Omiva, Jatka will be our son.” Pela turned until she stood beside Gordon, still not looking upon him.
“Jatka,” Gordon said to the shadows. “Come here.” There was nothing but silence. “I am brother to a great wolf, Jatka, and can see in the dark. I see you now.”
Jatka came from behind a large cedar on the far edge of the path. He walked until he was two paces from them and stopped. “I was only watching the people go in, listening to the songs and drums. I did nothing wrong.”
“You did nothing wrong, Jatka. Tomorrow morning at the clanhouse Pela and I will marry. We ask you now: will you stand with us and be our son?”
Stone-faced, Jatka stood there looking between Pela and Gordon. “What do you mean?”
“Will you stand with us?” asked Pela of the boy. “Will you become a part of our family? This is what we want. At the same time we will feast you to manhood.”
“What will I have to do?”
She pointed at Jatka’s ragged furs. “New coverings. You can’t stand with us looking like that.”
“Do you have something to present to the gifted upon the Men’s Ledge?” asked Gordon. “Can you slay your bear?”
Jatka nodded, his gaze downcast. He was silent for a moment, then elevated his gaze until he was looking into Gordon’s eyes. “Why?”
“I too grew up outside the embrace of my people,” said Gordon. “It gave me an angry heart and a lonely life. I see you where I was. I make you the offer I wanted then.”
“I killed my father,” he cried.
Gordon placed a hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “Jatka, I will never give you cause to kill me.”