Drums of Autumn - Diana Gabaldon [500]
All of the spectators who lined the bank found it hilarious—save the three whites.
Once the white blood had been thus ceremonially scrubbed from Ian’s body, more women dried him, dressed him in fresh clothing, and took him to the Council longhouse for the naming ceremony.
Everyone crowded inside; all of the village was there. Jamie, Roger, and I stood silently in a corner, watching as the sachem sang and spoke over him, as the drums beat, as the pipe was lit and passed from hand to hand. The girl he called Emily stood near him, eyes shining as she looked at him. I saw him look back at her, and the light that sprang up in his own eyes did a little to ease the soreness of my heart.
They called him Wolf’s Brother. His brother wolf sat panting at Jamie’s feet, viewing the proceedings with interest.
At the end of the ceremony a small hush fell on the crowd, and at that moment Jamie stepped out of the corner. All heads turned as he crossed to Ian, and I saw more than one warrior tense in disapproval.
He unpinned the brooch from his plaid, unbelted it, and laid the length of bloodstained crimson tartan across his nephew’s shoulder.
“Cuimhnich,” he said softly, and stepped back. Remember.
All of us were quiet as we made our way down the narrow trail that led away from the village next morning. Ian had taken a formal, white-faced farewell of us as he stood with his new family. I hadn’t been so stalwart, though, and seeing my tears made Ian bite his lip to hold back his own emotion. Jamie had embraced him, kissed his mouth and left him, without speaking a word.
Jamie went about the business of setting camp that night with his usual efficiency, but I could tell that his mind was somewhere else. And no wonder if it was; my own was divided in worry between Ian behind us and Brianna ahead of us, with very little attention to spare for present circumstances.
Roger dumped an armload of wood beside the fire and sat down next to me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly. “About Brianna.”
“Have you? So have I.” I was so tired, I thought I might tumble headfirst into the flames before I got the water boiling.
“You said there was another circle—opening, whatever it is—in the Indies?”
“Yes.” I thought briefly of telling him all about Geilie Duncan and the cave at Abandawe, and dismissed it. I hadn’t the energy. Another time. Then I jerked out of my mental fog, catching what he was saying.
“Another one? Here?” I looked wildly around, as though expecting to see a menhir standing menacingly at my back.
“Not here,” he said. “Somewhere between here and Fraser’s Ridge, though.”
“Oh.” I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. “Yes, I know there is, but—” Then it penetrated, and I grabbed his arm. “You mean you know where it is?”
“You knew about it?” He stared at me in astonishment.
“Yes, I—here, look …” I scrabbled in my pouch and came up with the opal. He grabbed it from me before I could explain.
“Look! It’s the same; this same symbol—it’s carved on the rock in the circle. Where the hell did you get this?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you later. But for now—do you know where this circle is? You’ve actually seen it?”
Jamie, attracted by our excitement, had come to see what was going on.
“A circle?”
“A time-circle, an opening, a—a—”
“I’ve been there,” Roger said, interrupting my stuttering explanations. “I found it by accident while I was trying to escape.”
“Could you find it again? How far is it from River Run?” My mind was making frantic calculations. A little more than seven months. If it took six weeks to return, Brianna would be eight and a half months gone. Could we possibly take her into the mountains in time? And if we could—what would be the greater risk, to travel through a time-passage on the verge of delivery, or to stay