When they drew closer, Alex could see it was Lanta-eh and three holy men from Matori-ah. They sat cross-legged in the soft grass, facing each other. When Lanta-eh saw them, she jumped to her feet like the young girl she still was, and ran to them. “One of the holy men says he knows you!” Only then did she notice Alex’s many scars. “Are you all right?”
“Never better,” Alex said, and slid to the ground. Alex immediately recognized Trema-ak, the young monk who had taken him snowshoeing the winter they had spent with the monks. Alex hurried to greet him and the other monks. They were all familiar, but Alex remembered Trema-ak best.
“I am almost afraid to ask, but how is Tokin-ak?” The ancient monk had indicated that he was near the end of his life when they had last seen each other.
“The same as always,” Trema-ak said. “Telling everyone who will listen that he is dying while he continues to live another day.”
Alex had assumed the ancient monk was dead, so it heartened him to hear he was still on this side of life’s curtain.
“In fact, when he knew we were coming here to see both you and The Chosen One, he wanted to come. Our master told him he was needed at the monastery, though.”
Alex turned to Lanta-eh. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m sure you’re having an important conversation.”
“You can never interrupt. We are speaking of important things, but you are welcome to join us.”
“I don’t think I would have anything to add, and we are tired after so many days on the trail.”
“I will come find you after you have rested,” she said, kissing Alex on the cheek. It was an unusual gesture in Kragdon-ah, but one she had adopted with Alex.
Alex and Senta-eh separated—Alex to find Sekun-ak and Senta-eh to seek out her family.
Alex climbed through the cave system until he found Sekun-ak sitting in one of the low chairs, speaking to several members of the council.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Never,” Sekun-ak answered. “If I had known how much talking and how little actual work went into being chief, I never would have agreed to serve.” He glanced at the other council members, who stood and walked past Alex, each laying a hand on his shoulder in greeting.
“We have brought back several saddlebags full of danta. I will meet with Jimta-ak and show him how to use it to preserve meat.”
“This will be helpful to us in many ways,” Sekun-ak said, “but it looks like you paid a heavy price for a few bags of danta.”
Alex’s fingers unconsciously touched the white scars the wasta-ta had left him with. “It’s more than just a few bags. Harta-ak and Versa-eh are setting up a new village at the danta deposit, working with the young chief from Rinta-ah. They have given us permission to gather as much salt as we want or need forever.”
“Or at least as long as those people are alive,” Sekun-ak observed.
“Being chief has made you cynical.”
“Being chief makes me miserable. Do you want the job?”
Alex held up his hands and backed away so fast he almost tripped over one of the chairs.
Sekun-ak laughed and for a moment it was just two old friends together.
“I don’t like giving advice, but if it was me,” Alex said, “I would be training someone to be my successor.”
“We are on the same trail. I have begun asking my daughter to sit in on the council meetings. She is smarter and more capable than I am. I hope she will be willing to assume the role before too many solstices pass.”
Sekun-ak looked deep into Alex’s eyes. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“I told Senta-eh how I feel about her.”
Sekun-ak lifted his hands toward the ceiling. “Slow as pitch on the winter solstice, but eventually you get there. When is the binding ceremony?”
“I don’t know. I was honest with her.”
“I can’t imagine you being any other way.”
“I told her that I couldn’t complete my commitment to her until I knew for sure there is no way for me to get home to my daughter.”
“I thought you already knew that.”
Alex touched his throat lightly. “There is still another door.”
“Would that door take you where you want to go?”
“I don’t know, but if the door Doug-ak came through still stands, I am going to find out. I owe my daughter that much and more.”
Sekun-ak absorbed that, then said, “So you are going to where Denta-ah once stood?”
“Yes. If I can see that the door Doug-ak used is also gone, I will know there is no way home. This will be my home, and we will have the binding ceremony.”
“She is a patient woman.”
That gave Alex pause. He and Senta-eh had been friends and companions for three years. She had stood beside him in the face of every danger. More than a few times, she had saved his life and accomplished what he could not. Now that he knew she was willing to be with him, he realized how patient she had been with him. Courtships among the Winten-ah were typically measured in weeks and months, not years. He remembered back to when she had become agitated at being thought of as old and things came into focus.
“I do not think I deserve her.”
Sekun-ak laughed. “Probably not. Do any of us deserve the women that bind themselves to us? Some of us are lucky. When do you leave for Denta-ah? Going to rest for a few days first?”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead. We will before first light tomorrow.”
KARGA-AK, WHO HANDLED the animals for the Winten-ah insisted on giving Alex two new horses for the journey to Denta-ah.
“I don’t know what you did to the two I gave you, but they are worn down. They will stay and rest and I will
