The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [190]
The mention of familiar names filled Jondalar with poignant memories. “Why don’t you take her something beautiful, Thonolan? Don’t you think Mother wants to see you again?”
“Mother knew I wasn’t coming back. She said ‘Good journey’ when we left, not ‘Until you return.’ It’s you who must have upset her, perhaps more than you upset Marona.”
“Why would she be more upset about me than you?”
“I’m the son of Willomar’s hearth. I think she knew I’d be a traveler. She might not have liked it, but she understood. She understands all her sons—that’s why she made Joharran leader after her. She knows Jondalar is a Zelandonii. If you made a Journey alone, she’d know you would return—but you left with me, and I wasn’t going back. I didn’t know it when I left, but I think she did. She would want you to return; you’re the son of Dalanar’s hearth.”
“What difference does that make? They severed the knot long ago. They’re friends when they see each other at Summer Meetings.”
“They may be just friends now, but people still talk about Marthona and Dalanar. Their love must have been very special to be so long remembered, and you are all she has to remind her, the son born to his hearth. His spirit, too. Everyone knows that; you look so much like him. You have to go back. You belong there. She knew it, and so do you. Promise you’ll go back someday, Brother.”
Jondalar was uneasy about such a promise. Whether he continued to travel with his brother or decided to return without him, he would be giving up more than he wanted to lose. As long as he made no commitment either way, he felt he could still have both. A promise to return implied that his brother would not be with him.
“Promise me, Jondalar.”
What reasonable objection could he make. “I promise,” he acquiesced. “I will go home—someday.”
“After all, Big Brother,” Thonolan said with a smile, “someone has to tell them we made it to the end of the Great Mother River. I won’t be there, so you’ll have to.”
“Why won’t you be there? You could come with me.”
“I think the Mother would have taken me at the river—if you hadn’t begged Her. I know I can’t make you understand, but I know She will come for me soon, and I want to go.”
“You are going to try to get yourself killed, aren’t you?”
“No, Big Brother.” Thonolan smiled. “I don’t have to try. I just know the Mother will come. I want you to know I’m ready.”
Jondalar felt a knot tightening inside him. Ever since the quicksand accident, Thonolan had had a fatalistic certainty he was going to die soon. He smiled, but it wasn’t his old grin. Jondalar preferred the anger to this calm acceptance. There was no fight in him, no will to live.
“Don’t you think we owe something to Brecie and the Willow Camp? They’ve given us food, clothing, weapons, everything. Are you willing to take it all and not offer anything in return?” Jondalar wanted to make his brother angry, to know there was something left. He felt he’d been tricked into a promise that relieved his brother of his final obligation. “You are so sure the Mother has some destiny for you that you have stopped thinking of anyone but yourself! Just Thonolan, right? No one else matters.”
Thonolan smiled. He understood Jondalar’s anger and could not blame him. How would he have felt if Jetamio had known she was going to die, and had told him?
“Jondalar, I want to tell you something. We were close …”
“Aren’t we still?”
“Of course,