"You could pity them? They stole my daughter! You've seen how they desecrate those they capture! They're beasts!" "Not beasts," Ice Fire corrected. "They've grown desperate. And that's a message in its own right. This broad valley is the last of their hunting grounds. They fight, but in the end they'll lose."

"Perhaps. It's the way, I guess. Like our cousins to the west." Red Flint pursed his lips, moving his fingers nervously. "You think we're going to be caught like that someday? Like these Enemy?" Ice Fire spread his wide hands. "Once, I would have said we couldn't be crushed by anything. Now? I don't know."

Red Flint rubbed his hands together uneasily. "Have you sought visions of our fate? Do the Glacier People--"

"I've had visions. It's not the Glacier People. They, too, are running.

Fleeing the disease that comes from the west. They're moving southwest along the southern salt water. They'll end up leaving in their floating trees. Finding a land that rises from the salt water." "But what of us?"

Ice Fire shrugged. "Too many things can happen. The disease rises in the west. If we turn back? Well ... I don't see it all. The Watcher--"

"The old woman? The one who watched when you raped that woman." He glanced away at the look in Ice Fire's eyes.

"I met the Watcher."

"You .. ."

Ice Fire brushed his hair over his shoulder, staring into the smoky air.

"She told me the world's changing, but we can save ourselves."

"How, Elder?"

"My sons are part of it."

"Sons? But you have no--"

"Two. Twins. Like the Enemy's story of the Monster Children --locked in constant battle. But someday soon, one will triumph."

"Which one? What does it mean for us?"

He waved it away. "I don't know. It's worse in my head than the way I tell it."

"Tell me what you've seen. Maybe I can help interpret the images." Red Flint edged closer, listening intently.

Hesitantly, Ice Fire explained, "There's a young man, tall, straight, bitter with anger. He leads our clan across the back of the world.

Through rock and snow and ice into a different place. Leads us to agreat Dreamer and healer, who is me. I see myself, the angry young man, and ... a child ... all bound by red lines--like a web. And .. . and above, in the sky, a spider of stars holds the tendrils of web. We're drawn south by the sky spider. Unable to escape the web."

He shook his head. "I can't make it out. Sounds crazy. One vision shifting to another. Changing shape, changing existences in my head."

Red Flint ripped up some of the tussock gra.s.s. "Do our people follow the Enemy to this different place?"

"I haven't seen."

"It's a frightening thought."

"Visions are always frightening," Ice Fire agreed solemnly. There were so many things he could never tell anyone. Even his closest friends would think him mad. "I wish I'd never made that wretched trip twenty years ago. It seemed like I tore the world loose, sent it spinning like children fling dried buffalo-dung patties."

"Look." Red Flint pointed to a figure who raced across the camp. "It's Sheep's Tail."

Ice Fire stood, shuffling his leg to get the circulation back in it as he squinted into the bright light. Sheep's Tail's face twisted anxiously.

"So, young man, the Enemy have raided your village again and stolen another of your women?"

Sheep's Tail lowered his flashing eyes, jaw muscles jumping in embarra.s.sment. "What's happened?"

He looked up, a curious fire in his eyes as he addressed his words to Red Flint, the Singer. "Moon Water's back. Your daughter's safe. She just came in with Walrus's people. She escaped from the Enemy. She tells a strange story you should hear. The Enemy have a great new Dreamer.

He's taken them underneath the world through a ghost hole to a land of riches beyond belief!"

Red Flint broke out of the group, running for where his daughter stood in the distance. She was being carried into his tent by a cheering crowd. Ice Fire stiffened, bits of vision floating up from the depths of his mind so recently stirred by Red Flint. "From under the world .. he mused. "I'd better hear this tale of Moon Water's."

He battled the flies that sought his warm blood on the way across the camp, seeing people huddled beneath the tents, swatting at the beasts with tail quirts, waving wormwood and sedge over their heads.

Moon Water looked young, gaunt, and flushed with pride as he ducked under the flap into the muggy interior of Red Flint's family tent. She glanced up, recognized him, and dropped her eyes before turning to embrace her father.

He strolled closer, and when Red Flint released his daughter, Ice Fire clapped the girl on the shoulder. "First, let me welcome you back to the people. You have shown courage and bravery worthy of our songs." Then he raised a silver shot eyebrow. "But I also hear you know of a ... a ghosthole?"

She flashed dark eyes at him and straightened, aware all eyes were upon her. "I not only have seen it," she began uncertainly. "I've been through it, Most Respected Elder."

He blinked, the import of her words sinking in. "Through it?" Slowly he settled himself to a rolled caribou hide, heedless of the flies that swarmed about. "Explain."

She nodded seriously, a shiver taking her at the memory. "It's a terrible place, Most Respected Elder. Things .. . ghosts, howl in the ice. The journey is long, days and days, and cold, and horrors hang in the dark waiting to grab the unwary."

"Yet you pa.s.sed unharmed?"

"I ... maybe I showed courage to the ghosts. And pride and honor. Ghosts value such things."

He smiled warmly at her. "I'm sure they do. I didn't mean to mock your courage, Moon Water. You are very brave, worthy of every honor our people can bestow upon you. But tell me, what's on the other side of this ghost-filled place?"

Her face lit. "A valley like you cannot imagine! The game stands still while the hunter walks up to dart it. Buffalo, caribou, mammoth, musk ox."

"Stands still?" Red Flint cried, disbelief glinting in his sharp eyes.

She nodded. "The Enemy Dreamer said no man had ever been there." "No man?" Red Flint shook his head. "The Enemy is tricky. Maybe they wanted you to--"

"No." Ice Fire held up his hand, bits of vision flashing in his mind.

In the silence, he turned, studying her where she looked triumphantly at Red Flint. A strong woman, this. Where was her like twenty years ago after his beloved .. . ? No, leave it. The dead are dead.

Moon Water edged forward slowly, then dropped to her knees before Ice Fire. "Most Respected Elder. Please, we must take the people through the hole before--"

"Yes, we must."

She smiled in sudden surprise. "We'll need to clear the Enemy out of the way first. Then we can--"

"Describe the Enemy Dreamer?" "He is very young. Maybe nineteen Long Darks, with long black hair and an oval face. His eyes are large and filled with . with a strange light." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "Like yours, Elder."

Ice Fire filled his lungs, nodding. Even as the girl gave the description, the boy's face appeared in his mind, rainbow in hand, and a tremor shook him. To no one in particular, he murmured, "Come to me. Let us decide the futures of our people. Come to me, Dreamer .. . son."

Chapter 51.

Wolf Dreamer leaned back against the crusty rocks of the hot springs.

He'd sought out a higher pool, hidden in the rocks above the falls.

Small, it hid in dark shadows. Only a piece of Blue Sky Man shone over his head.

"Heron," he murmured painfully, "lead me. I must know what to do."

Fragments of his conversation with Raven Hunter echoed through his mind.

He could see his brother's face--see the controlled anger, the darkness of his soul. Blood whimpered in Raven Hunter's tracks. Souls cried in the vastness--their way to the Blessed Star People unsung. Pain--pain followed Raven Hunter. It twisted in Wolf Dreamer's thoughts.

Everything had come unraveled. His mind, so carefully ordered, had lost the silence--the peace. The One eluded him in the roiling of emotions, remembered words, which--like Raven Hunter's face--he couldn't vanquish.

Confusion roiled in his stomach, stirring his mind and soul with the blackness of defeat. He felt so tired and so desperately, barrenly alone.

Why did he have to mention Dancing Fox? "Sure you don't want me to send her to you ? She "II willingly fall into your arms, you know. I can tell you honestly, she's most ardent on a man's staff. Most worth your ..."

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, he clamped his cupped hands over his ears, teeth gritted. Nothing stilled the voice repeating in his mind. A vicious thought speared him--a question of what it would feel like to love Dancing Fox. Flesh teased by the thoughts, he began responding, and cried out in horror.

I've seen the end of the People "Heron? Help me!"

She appeared in his reeling thoughts, her face stiff, cold, blue in the light of the torch. Once again, he stared into her dying eyes, seeing the light of the soul fleeing the body.

"Bear Hunter?" her rasping voice called.

"Death," Wolf Dreamer whispered, Dancing Fox's image fading as Heron's haunting eyes became the total of his consciousness. "To love and Dream is to die." The beat of his heart pulsed through his body, as if pumping away the confusion.

"That's it, isn't it. Death is the end ... no matter what."

An ominous feeling of wrongness swelled around him. He fought it, centering his soul on the concept of death, remembering every line in Heron's still face--in the glazing of her terrified eyes. Opening his mouth, he began chanting the nonsense song she'd taught him. He forced himself to concentrate on the sounds, clarifying his thoughts, forgetting the bustling world of people chattering in the main pool far below. They depended on him--those that believed. Yet he'd lost faith in himself. Would the rest of the clans ever follow? Or would he have to leave them to the death predicted in his Dreams? Sharp laughter drifted up to him, breaking his concentration. Then someone roughly scolded achild.

"Dance," he commanded himself. "Seek . seek beyond your self. Lose your mind. Become all--ana none."

He shook his head hard, clearing the mental fog of self pity, and continued chanting, chanting, chanting.. ..

Time stretched, the chant seeped into every corner of his mind until he no longer heard the lilting sounds of his own voice. Chant whirled into Dream. The One beckoned. Absorbed in the flow of his mental dance movements, he found he didn't need the song, that he couldn't stop the motions now; they possessed him, the fluid swaying like a balm on his wounded soul. Only the motions existed, blending with the caress of water around him, until finally he felt himself being lifted high into the air.

He Danced weightlessly in a sea of light. Time vanished, slipping into an eternal now where there never had been a Wolf Dream or a Dancing Fox--only a single moment of present awareness existed.

The Dance stopped.

He melted into the effulgence like a drop of water in the ocean. Nothing but light existed. Then in a ma.s.sive and silent explosion, the light burst forth, washing through the universe in a gigantic tidal wave, spreading .. . spreading .. . conquering the darkness. And he knew at that moment, knew at last what Heron's cryptic words had meant, "You've got to stop Dancing so you can get a good look at the Dancer."

Beneath the motions of the Dance was the Dancer. And beneath the Dancer was the essence of all that existed, the thing that tied the animals and plants to human beings: the One Voice, the One.

There was no Dancer. There never had been.

After an eternity, his body returned to him. He opened his eyes. The glare of the sun made him squint against the pain. Sound reached him as he floated. One by one, his senses tingled to life. With them, depression set in. He'd made another step, but why couldn't he stay in touch with the light? Until he could hold the connection, he'd never be able to perceive the world around him as mirage. Fire handling and poison would be impossible. Across the pool, from inside Heron's shelter, a babble of haunting voices called his name.

Cold fear touched his stomach. He turned to look toward them, seeing their black shriveled faces in his memory. An eerie wail rose, the mushroom's impa.s.sioned pleas pounding against him like fists.

He sank deeper into the pool, hiding .. . hiding.

Chapter 52.

His mouth had gone so dry. Fear did that, fear that he wasn't strong enough. Fear that he'd break down in the Dream. Fear that his denied love for Dancing Fox would rise to cleave him from the One, to leave him as horribly dead as Heron in her love for Bear Hunter.

"Go now, leave me!

He looked back and forth, seeing the nervous trepidation in One Who Cries and Singing Wolf's eyes. They sat silently, awkwardly, unwilling to abandon him in this most critical moment. His heart warmed to their loyalty and concern.

"The time has come for me to Dream for all the People. Don't you see?"

Singing Wolf frowned, stubby teeth sunk in his lower lip. "It killed Heron And she was practiced."

He silenced him with an uplifted hand, smiling wistfully. "It's my time, Singing Wolf." Filling his lungs, he stilled his anxious heart "Please, go now. I must prepare. See that no one disturbs me No one! Not for any reason."

He closed his eyes, seeking to clear his mind, to prepare for what he had to do. Vaguely, he heard the rustle of their clothing as they left the feeling of their unease heavy in the air Beyond Heron's rock shelter, he could feel the lifeblood of the People coursing through their bodies, their emotions roiling in the air around him. Their voices carried on the wind, calling out to Father Sun, to the spirits of the animals that had given them life this year.

With deliberate fingers, he plucked up the willow stems, dipping them in the water, sprinkling them over the fire. Leaning forward, he bathed his head and shoulders in the cleansing steam.

Beyond the flap, beyond the rock shelter, he could feel the beginnings of the Renewal Dance. The lilting melody of the old songs caressed the depths of his mind.

From beside him, he unwrapped the fox-hide bundle, letting his fingers play over the hard thin slices of the mushroom. Fear began to extend icy fingers into his thoughts; they curled and crept through his soul.

Brutally, he forced them away, banishing the lingering remnants of the memory of Heron's eyes--horror-locked in death.

Four times, as Heron had taught him, he pa.s.sed the willow through the fire, sprinkling the stems onto the glowing coals. Leaning forward, he bathed himself in the smoke, cleansing himself. Then, one by one, he lifted the thin slices of mushroom, pa.s.sing them through the cleansing smoke before placing them on his tongue. And the bitterness possessed him.

Dancing Fox struggled down the rocky path. Below her, the Renewal spread, the final dance lined out. Crow Callerit had to be him--cavorted in the center near a smoking fire as the People watched, clapping their hands, bodies swaying to the familiar chants that called the souls of the animals.

"Just a little farther," Dancing Fox panted, feeling her breath burningin her lungs.