Kerrick shrugged. “That I do not know yet. It is familiar to me, living in a place like this, for I lived for many years in the city of the Yilanè. There is no hunger and the winters are warm.”

“Your son will dig in the ground like a woman instead of following the deer.”

“He doesn’t have to. The Sasku hunt deer, with their spear-throwers they do it very well.”

Herilak said nothing more about this, but his feelings were clear in the way he held his head when he looked about him. This was all very interesting, good enough for those born here, but in no way comparable to the life of a hunter. Kerrick did not want to argue with him. He looked from Herilak to the Sasku digging in the fields and could understand them both—even as he had understood the Yilanè. Not for the first time did he feel suspended in life, neither hunter nor tiller of fields, Ter or marag. They went inside then and his eyes went to Armun holding their son and knew that he had a base now, a sammad of his own no matter how small. Armun saw this look in his face and smiled at him and he smiled back. One of the women came from the cave mouth and whispered to him.

“A mandukto is here and would talk to you.”

The mandukto stood on the ledge, wide-eyed and trembling. “It has been as Sanone said. The mastodon is born—as is your son. Sanone asks to talk with you.”

“Go to him. Say that I come with Herilak.” He turned back to the big hunter. “We will see what Sanone wants. Then we will talk to the manduktos, find out if there really is a way across the desert to the west.”

Kerrick knew where to find Sanone at this time of day, for the afternoon sun was slanting across the valley, shining into the cavern at the base of the cliff to illuminate the paintings on the rock wall there. Like Fraken, Sanone knew many things and could recite them from the rise of the sun in the morning to the darkness at night. But Sanone shared his knowledge with the other manduktos, the young ones in particular. He would chant and they would repeat what he said and learn his words. Kerrick was permitted to listen, and recognized the honor in this for only other manduktos were normally permitted to hear what was being said.

When they came close Kerrick saw that Sanone was sitting cross-legged before the great mastodon painting, looking up at it, while three of the younger manduktos sat before him, listening intently.

“We will wait here until he is done,” Kerrick said. “He is telling the others about Kadair.”

“What is that?”