People of the River(92)

"That looks pretty scary, Wanderer."

"Does it? I hadn't noticed," he responded cheerfully.

"What are you doing out there?"

He extended a hand to her as he slid over a few feet. "Come down and I'll tell you." while she scrambled over the gritty edge of the bluff to sit beside him. She scooted as far back as she could, making certain she had solid rock behind her before she relaxed. The three ravens glided down to float on the ocean of air before them.

"This is a Power place," Wanderer explained. "I come here a lot to think about Earthmaker, the Spiral, and the One." He grinned and untucked his blanket to wrap it around her shoulders. She snuggled against him, glad for his warmth. He'd worn his tattered wolf-hide robe, painted with the red tortoise and the green spirals. It smelled of wood smoke and odd spices.

"What are those things? I mean, I know who Earthmaker is. I've heard stories about him all my life. About how he made the world covered with water and told Tortoise to dive down and pull up dirt"—she illustrated Tortoise's journey with a plunging hand—"so that he could mold land and people. But what are the Spiral and the One?"

Wanderer's wrinkles rearranged into sober lines. "What are they? Why, they're everything."

"The Spiral is everything?"

"Yes." He waved a hand at the blue-shadowed valley below. "The Spiral is all that is."

"And what's the One?"

"All that is . . . and is not."

Lichen tucked the edge of the blanket around her chilly toes. "That doesn't make any sense, Wanderer. All that is not isn't anything at all."

"Good thinking! Tell me, what else comes to your mind?" He shifted to peer at her.

"Well, if the One isn't anything, what is it?"

"Nothing."

Lichen grimaced, and Wanderer's face lit as though he anticipated great thoughts from her. "Nothing can't exist. Wanderer. I mean . . . it's nothing."

"Exactly! That's why the One is the heartbeat of the Spiral. If it was something, it couldn't be the basis for everything. It can be the basis for everything only if it isn't anything at all."

Lichen opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. "Wanderer, that's silly."

A lopsided grin split his face. For several moments he squinted out at the strengthening glow of Father Sun. He chuckled softly, then smiled, then chuckled again while he watched the veil of translucent amber creep higher and higher into the lavender belly of the sky. Rays from the unborn sun tinted the basin, painting the silhouettes of rocks and bushes with an opalescent fringe of fire.

"You know, Lichen," Wanderer said at last, "there are Dreamers who believe that all of the Spiral is illusion."

"You mean they think the world is illusion?" She snorted her disgust. "Do you believe that?"

Wanderer leaned close and whispered, "Lichen, do you really want to get to the Cave of First Woman?"

"Yes," she answered fervently. "I have to."

Wanderer's eyes twinkled. "What if I told you that no matter what I teach you, no matter how hard you try, all the knowledge and skill in the world won't be enough to take you there?"

Lichen frowned. "I don't understand. Wanderer. Isn't that why you're teaching me? So I'll learn how to Dream better? Isn't that what trapping Father Sun and hunting First Woman's tree was all about?"

"No, Lichen. I was trying to teach you that you have to let go of the idea of you."

"If I let go of me, how can / become a Dreamer?"

Leaning back against the limestone. Wanderer laced his fingers around one knee and watched the splinter of sun peek over the horizon. A glorious flood of yellow drenched the land. Plants cast off their shadows and stood naked in the splendor, their arms lifted high to receive Father Sun's morning blessing. The ravens soared and dove in delight.

"Poor Lichen," he said as though speaking to someone who wasn't there. "She thinks she can Dream her way to the Cave." He grinned wryly at her. "Don't you?"

"Sure. I thought that's why I was here."

"No. You will never find it. There are no tricks or methods for getting there. When you learn that everything you want, everything you crave and believe, is just sparkflies flitting through the darkness—then you'll find First Woman's Cave."

"Sparkflies?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "Knowledge and skill are nothing more than sparkflies darting through the evening sky with Bat in hot pursuit. They lead Bat a merry chase, don't they?"

Lichen nodded. "So what?"

"When Bat catches them, what happens?"

"He gets to eat, which keeps him from dying."