The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [419]
Charoli’s name came up before they were through. Jondalar talked about the problems the young man had been creating for everyone, and he explained in some detail what they planned to do to stop him. Guban thought the information was important enough to tell other clans, and he wondered to himself if his broken leg might not turn out to be a great asset.
Guban would have much to tell to his clan. Not only that the Others themselves had problems with the man, and planned to do something about it, but that some of the Others were willing to fight their own kind to help people of the Clan. There were also some who could speak properly! A woman who could communicate very well, and a man with limited but useful ability, which in some ways could be more valuable because he was a male, and he was now kin. Such contact with Others, and the insights and knowledge about them, could bring him even more status, especially if he had full use of his leg again.
Ayla applied the birchbark cast in the evening. Guban went to bed feeling very good. And his leg hardly pained him at all.
Ayla woke up in the morning feeling very uneasy. She had a strange dream again, very vivid, with caves and Creb in it. She mentioned it to Jondalar; then they talked about how they were going to get Guban back to his people. Jondalar suggested the horses, but he was very worried about delaying any longer. Ayla felt that Guban would never consent. The tame horses upset him.
When they got up, they helped Guban out of the tent, and while Ayla and Yorga prepared a morning meal, Jondalar demonstrated the crutches. Guban insisted on trying, over Ayla’s objections, and after a little practicing, was surprised at how effective they were. He could actually walk without putting any weight on his leg.
“Yorga,” Guban called to his woman, after he put the crutches down, “make ready to leave. After the morning meal, we will go. It is time to return to the clan.”
“It’s too soon,” Ayla said, using the Clan gestures at the same time. “You need to rest your leg, or it will not heal properly.”
“My leg will rest while I walk with these.” He motioned toward the crutches.
“If you must go now, you can ride one of the horses,” Jondalar said.
Guban looked startled. “No! Guban walks on own legs. With the help of these walking sticks. We will share one more meal with new kin, and then we go.”
41
After sharing their morning meal, both couples prepared to go their separate ways. When Guban and Yorga were ready, they simply looked at Jondalar and Ayla for a moment, avoiding the wolf and two horses packed with gear. Then, leaning on his crutches, Guban began hobbling away. Yorga fell in behind him.
There were no goodbyes, no thank-yous; such concepts were foreign to the people of the Clan. It wasn’t customary to comment on one’s departure, it was obvious, and acts of assistance or kindness, especially from kin, were expected. Understood obligations required no thanks, only reciprocity, should it ever be necessary. Ayla knew how difficult it could be if Guban ever had to reciprocate. In his mind, he owed them more than he might ever be able to repay. He had been given more than his life; he had been given a chance to retain his position, his status, which meant more to him than simply being alive—especially if that meant living as a cripple.
“I hope they don’t have far to go. Traveling any distance on those walking sticks is not easy,” Jondalar said. “I hope he makes it.”
“He’ll make it,” Ayla said, “no matter how far it is. Even without the walking sticks, he would get back, if he had to crawl the whole way. Don’t worry, Jondalar. Guban is a man of the Clan. He will make it … or die in the trying.”
Jondalar’s brow wrinkled into a thoughtful frown. He watched Ayla take Whinney’s lead rope; then he shook his head and found Racer